I think when looking at solutions for the end of Suo arc we need to be careful of not implying that the answer is just to remove all of these kids from their town in which they are able to be around others of their cultural background and speak their native language and live in a diverse community
Like no the answer isn’t take all of these kids from their home and place them in a (from what we’ve seen) homogeneous Japanese small town
Two things can be true at once
Suo deserves to have the freedom to be a kid and go to school and not have all of this weight on his back while also protecting HIS town and home
AND
These kids deserve to build relationships and stay in their own community
Just because Suo wants to go out and be a part of other communities does not mean we should just strip these people and especially these children of their own
Also moving the kids or anyone from one space to another does nothing to actually take care of the systemic issues they’re facing like the answer is something needs to change for Suo to come back, he needs to be able to be comfortable knowing his community is safe without him there
This is in reference to a great post that talked about Vaggie's PTSD flashbacks as well as the other Exorcist she was embracing in one frame. And this comment is right: how are evil people that have been explicitly evil since the first time we've seen them, being "done wrong" by showing that they...are evil? And I also agree with this person questioning why it took them hurting someone that wasn't Vaggie for these people to finally realize that their favorite characters are not not bad people? You all hate Vaggie that much? Yeesh.
The tantrums that I've seen thrown on Twitter over these flashback scenes have been very concerning. They're extremely livid that more examples are being shown of their poor, wittle, psychotic favs acting like the terrible people that they are. I've also seen so many of them justifying the abuse Vaggie went through, whether it be while Vaggie was in the Exorcist army or that fateful Extermination Day where she was disfigured, and I'm really wondering how and why they think something like that is excusable. Again, your deep hatred for Vaggie is really clouding your judgement and critical thinking skills. Someone even made the disgustingly disturbing hashtag of #lutewasrighttomutilateher, and again...how are you all excusing something like this?
There were also people highly enraged by how the two were being shown, and responded by trying to do an entire whataboutism with Vaggie killing the Exorcists in defense of herself and the hotel crew. There's a tweet that said "lute may have slapped a few people around, but Vaggie has a few bodies herself." Yes, lute abusing the soldiers goes directly hand-in-hand with Vaggie killing angels in self-defense. Yep, totally makes sense. (This is entirely sarcasm). Did these viewers just expect Vaggie to go around and ask each Exorcist to not kill her and her friends? Vaggie and crew were completely in the right to prepare a way to defend themselves and act on it, especially since Adam let them know prior that he was heading down to destroy the hotel first.
Vaggie does not—in any way, shape, or form—owe lute a damned thing. She doesn't owe Adam a damned thing. She doesn't owe the Exorcists who were—in addition to coming down to attack Sinners and the hotel, anyway—instructed to try and bring her head back to Adam, a damned thing. She was well within her rights to defend herself, so she did.
To echo the last line of that comment, don't ever invalidate Vaggie's trauma. No matter who you do or don't like, do not invalidate trauma. Yes, this is a fictional character, but she's dealing with a very real thing/very real things that people can connect and relate to from their own experiences and realities. Invalidating this character's trauma shows that not only are you a jerk (and I'm being very nice with the word choice here), but it also shows a major lack of critical thinking skills and emotional intelligence regarding differences of perspectives.
It is completely fine to like villains—I'm not saying you can't, but recognize that villains are villains, and if they're shown doing something evil and/or wrong, then it isn't necessarily because the writer wants you to stop liking them or because they want the character(s) to "look bad;" it's because villains do bad things. Simple as that.
Would you be down to do a continuation of the Impactor X Reader piece you did a while back? Maybe in some timeskip where Impactor sees the con again but they had defected, and man he wants to get his rocks off 🥴And so does reader but they play a little bit of "will they won't they" or dance around to avoid Impactor out of embarrassment and humiliation :^D
Thank you! And hope you've been doing well ✨️
[IDW] ♡ "WRECK 'N RULE" Impactor 02 NSFW
I AM DOING GREAT!!! that one was hardcore fic! blushed at my own writing... very self indulgent fic you all seem to LOVE. also 'rocks off'... that's a new phrase for me XD the english language is funny... not sure if i got that 'will they, won't they' part right though. this one is a bit more story oriented. smut is still there tho ofc
scenario: you meet him... again and complicated emotions arise.
setting: last stand, aftermath of overlord. canon divergent, impactor doesn't immediately leave after G-9
prev: part 1
WARNINGS: this is impactor, non-con touching, semi-public(?), oral, mech handling, canon-typical violence
MDNI 18+ ‼️NSFW under the cut‼️
You shuffle your pedes as you walk around the ship, it felt.. odd to be here. On an Autobot ship. A Wrecker ship, no less. You can feel optics on you, some of them aren't happy to have you here and to be honest? You don't want to be here either but unfortunately, you... really don't have anywhere else to go. Working on their repairs for a free ride was a sweet deal anyway.
After your first encounter with the Wreckers, they had you imprisoned. Yes, Impactor said he'd let you go and he actually did let you but your luck... Primus, your luck... You got reassigned to another crew after a Decepticon ship finally got the distress signal from your old one. You served on that ship for a while, much better crewmates but it seems you just have a penchant for running into the opposing faction's authority figures because Ultra Magnus was up there in your 'Bots to Avoid' list, sending you straight to the nearest prison in the star system...
Which just so happened to be Garrus-9. Regardless, G-9 is still better than say, Grindcore... Its where you would've been if your Decepticons ever found out how you... interacted with a Wrecker. A memory that's etched into your processor at this point. They'd have probably sentenced you to be a K-Class if they'd known. Or maybe hunted by the DJD. But thankfully, Garrus-9 is well fortified. Its the largest Autobot prison and it houses bots with a threat level of 9, probably the safest place to be if you wanted to be away from any form of Decepticon 'disciplining'. Or the DJD.
But then came Overlord.
It all went downhill so quick.
You weren't strong enough to be taken for Overlord's 'entertainment ring' and neither were you weak enough to be turned into someone's fuel. Thankfully, you went unnoticed, invisible. You've never felt so glad for being irrelevant in your entire life. But... They were running out of bots to feed on and soon, they'd come for you. It was inevitable— The depravity of this prison planet was inescapable and grotesque, all sentiments seems to have died in here. There is no hope in this hellscape...
But you've heard that there was an inmate in here, mostly as whispers amongst inmates and even the guards, an Autobot. "The Autobot who went too far", they'd say. Not really sure who it is given the prison doesn't exactly let you catch up with what's going on outside but whoever that was, might be your only hope here. You may have been a Decepticon but this...? Whatever Overlord was doing? It wasn't what you signed up for at all. In fact, you might as well throw away that badge at this point because nothing you seemed to believe in remains within this now blood lusted and savage movement.
So you went a few floors deep, its where all the dangerous ones are kept. All the way down at the lower levels; real threats like Grimlock and even Arcee at some point, its no place for mechanics and engineers like yourself, that was made abundantly clear with how it took forever to navigate this place. Its a whole planet with just prisoners after all. Locating this mech's cell itself must've taken you forever, you remember the joy you felt when you finally found this bot... But as you approached the cell of this mysterious Autobot, your spark sank.
Not him.
There he was, Impactor. In the metal. Caged behind a dark cell. Even from this distance, he was as intimidating as ever. The darkness making him all the more terrifying, maybe even scarier than when you ran right into him during that botched escape attempt-
But, of course it was Impactor. Which other Autobot would possibly fit the criteria? Ruthless, merciless and domineering— Qualities you would prefer in a wildly different context but you regret coming here almost instantly as images of your previous encounter with him flashes in your processor, immediately trying to shake those thoughts away. He's sitting, you could see the golden-yellow gleam of his optics through the cell. He seemed to have noticed you with how he rises, alert but trying to get a closer look at you. The lights were out in this sector of the prison, not surprising considering the structural damage and lack of maintenance after Overlord took control.
You struggle to think of what to say, a part of you want to just leave and forget it but-
"I know you." He mumbles out, and a part of you sincerely wished he hadn't recognized you at all. You frown as he approaches near the edge of his cell, you take a deep vent and take a step further as he watches you like a hawk, mustering up the courage to spit out what's on your processor— A bit hard given the imagery popping up when you look into his optics, looking at anywhere else.
"I'm going to get you out of here. Not because I want to free you but because I want Overlord gone," You start talking, trying not to stutter over any of your words. You'd practiced this so many times- You know that the Autobots in these cells are probably as psychotic as most of the Decepticons out of their cells but right now, you don't have much of a choice. Best thing you can do is somehow make yourself look friendly.
Impactor raises an optical ridge, slightly amused as you continue speaking. Listening with keen interest. He can see how you're trying so hard not to look into his optics, focusing on his nasal ridge instead.
"The Decepticon Movement I decided to volunteer for is dead." You admit, it.. it wasn't easy but long years in prison (out of which five were under the rule of Overlord) changes a bot. The words surprise him in a way, he can tell you're being sincere but he's never had a Decepticon admit that without a blaster pointed at their helm.
"I am not affiliated with them." You tried to put emphasis onto your words. Remaining as stern as ever and not allowing this bot to intimidate you.
"Which means that I'm not here to fight you, here to help, so..." You know your next words will sound pathetic but you move to the keypad that's holding him in, your skills as an engineer came in handy for once.
"Don't kill me." You mumble out, there's fear in your tone and an alarm blares as you override the security protocols, the energy barrier dissipating and bars lowering. He just huffs, taking a step outside and stretching, the mechanisms of his heavy-weight frame creaking. His hydraulics hiss as his servos stretch up. Those alarms had alerted the spineless cowards who bent over for Overlord's whims and they'll definitely storm in here. You can tell he's getting prepared to wreck.
"I can't promise you anything, sweetspark." He says gruffly as he gets his balled up fists to a fighting stance, you ignore the name he called you. Purging those butterflies as soon as they they came. You'd brought a blaster gun but he didn't seem to interested in. He was really going to use his bare servos...
And the rest was history.
That's how you now you're on the ship, under Springer's supervision. Considering you'd assisted the Wreckers and even thrown away your purple badge, you had become one of them... in a way. If it weren't for you, they wouldn't have managed to alter the security overrides. You certainly don't want to join the Autobots and you made that very clear to Springer whenever he tried to bring up the offer, you'd help repair whatever damages the events of G-9 had brought upon their ship if they'd drop you off to some remote backwater planet in the furthest corner of the galaxy. After toiling away most of your life for the miserable Decepticon cause, you really needed a break.
"Report?" Springer approaches you, trying to be somewhat friendly, you look back at him without a smile or anything.
"Most of the repair work is done. Thrusters should be able to operate in maximum velocity again." You reply, your face blank as you try to ignore Impactor's heavy stare on you. Ever since you got on board really. There is a frown on your face and Springer can sense your discomfort even if you tried to hide it.
"He's just... Been through a lot." He mutters out as he eyes Impactor, who just sneers and walks away. Impactor remains to be a touchy topic for the green mech, he'd understand why anyone would be weary around him... or them, in general. "They all have." The green bot speaks for the rest of the Wreckers, some of them definitely wanting you gone for good for your previous association with the Decepticons and a part of you doesn't really blame them. But at the same time... Why did they have to be so intimidating?
"I know, its why you don't see me whine about it." You mumble out with a sigh as you walk away, Springer frowns a bit. You can tell he wanted you to join— Not necessarily the Wreckers but the Autobots. He seems to see some sort of goodness within you or something, least of your concerns. But to be honest, you're done with associating yourself with any cause and slaving away for it. Even if Springer is surprisingly nice...
The war is over.
You're going to live by your own terms now. Frag anyone's cause. its none of your business. You don't really give a damn if the Wreckers need a mechanic. Springer doesn't know a thing about how his team basically killed your co-workers before, only Impactor saw you that day. It makes sense why he doesn't recognize you at all, which is good. Hard to pretend like you didn't see him slash right through your Commanding Officer though. That fool of a CO should've just surrendered like Impactor asked...
Springer watches you walk away with a sigh, he can't really blame you for shooting down the offer considering they weren't exactly the friendliest bunch but they really, really need a mechanic around. He knows its not really sustainable to keep moving from ship to ship even if his team typically do not stay on the same ship for too long. This one handles like a charm though... You're competent, quick, above all, resourceful. But most importantly, you're not very keen on keeping old grudges. Very co-operative if anything, which was good. Most ex-Cons do not mix well with the Wreckers, they keep their old resentments— Something Springer has learnt from experience. But you seemed to be taking it better.
Though, something does surprise him about you— The fact that you freed Impactor, stuck next to the guy as he drilled himself through Overlord's hordes, almost have an encounter with Overlord yourself and still came out alive. He was sure Impactor would've done something to you, maybe not directly but maybe use you as a shield or a launchpad, especially considering your affiliation. You were a staunch Decepticon, firm on the ideals the movement used to embodies. It took Overlord himself for you to see what you believed in truly was because you stayed in prison true to your old badge.
"You know, I could convince 'em." Impactor suddenly approached Springer, who was deep in thought, snapping him out of it. Springer was... still not on good good terms yet. The young commander looks at Impactor's scarred face with heavy doubt. Impactor's method of convincing was something he's seen before and is certain would only drive you further away.
"I want to believe it, I do but I highly doubt your methods." Springer replies, studying Impactor carefully. Hard to read through that poker face though. Why would he want to convince you? Impactor isn't exactly the type to really talk it out; negotiation was not his strong point. Impactor lets out a sharp ex-vent, like he's almost offended at that.
"Trust me, I know how to make a mech reconsider without a blaster."
"Just stay away from 'em." Springer sighs, he's got a meet with Prowl and the team after a while, he won't be around to supervise Impactor which.. is a slight worry of his but what could possibly happen within that time? Its not like Impactor would actually try talking it out with you?... Right?
As you continue to walk down the hallway, you see Impactor walking towards you. You panic a little, the two of you didn't really get a lot of time to talk during the whole jailbreak and taking Overlord down. More focused on blasting through the Phase Sixer's cronies and trying to run for your life while Impactor pulled of stunts you wouldn't dare to perform even if even Primus himself was there to take the wheel. He was... something. That much you'll say.
And there is always a chance he's just heading for the same direction as you? Right?
While you're sure that moment, that day probably meant nothing to him, it... left an impression on you, unfortunately. Along with a lot of new discoveries about yourself. It was humiliating, embarrassing and, probably the lowest thing you've ever done to save yourself; it was also the most vulnerable you've ever been before any bot. You've never been so exposed— Your fake confidence broken down, pride thrown away— That exterior you flaunt off eroded entirely in that moment. Having someone tell you what to do and how to do it, it felt... you can't put it to words. But treated like that, wrecked and then spoiled, you can never compare it to any of your other experiences.
You try to walk faster, to get to the end of this corridor, you'll see Springer or someone there but unfortunately for you, Impactor's longer stride made it easy to catch up to you if he sped up.
He huffs as he stands right next to you. There's a small gap between your frames as you two walk together side-by-side. You sincerely hope he cannot see your nervousness as you try not to look at him, pretend to be unaffected and keep yourself composed. Looking right ahead.
"We need to talk." He leans down, you freeze for a moment. Stopping in your tracks as you decide to try and make a stand for yourself.
"No, we don't." You reply quickly, too quickly, looking right into his optics. Trying to stand firm. His face is as hardened as ever, you can't tell what he's thinking at all and it.. worries you. Its not easy to meet his gaze, or keep it.
"How cute." He snickers, tilting his helm to the side. Mocking you? Teasing you? You're not so sure. He can see the confusion and it only seems to make him more into... whatever he's trying to.
"You've got spine now." He leans in, making you step back right against the wall. Those words sting but you try not to let it get to you. He looks victorious, almost. He enjoys watching the realization that you're compromised with your back against the wall and Impactor in front of you. His servos immediately caging you in as they slam against the wall near your shoulder plating, you can't escape from the side either. His bigger frame does you no favours. You frown deeply as you look into his optics, trying to strike down those images from your intense experience with him, those images only serve to make you feel somewhat vulnerable and he can see that.
"What do you want from me?" You reply, the war is over. He's got no reason at all to be bothering you like this. Impactor just snickers.
"More like what we want." He mumbles out, the tone of voice is enough to make you somewhat flustered. Your frame starting to get warmer, you shake away any thoughts you have.
His optics are sharp, boring into yours almost and you can't look away even if you tried. You just hope no one comes through this hallway right now. You know what he's talking about, he can tell.
"I did it cause I didn't want to be captured." You defend yourself, memories of that night on the ship with him crashing into your processor. You look uneasy, reluctant. A part of you really, really wants to give in. There were days where you were so needy and you just hoped he'd show up again, lonely nights in prison... You can't even self-service in there with how many cameras and bots there are. You are pent up. Not like you'd... ever say that to his face. That admission goes down with you to your grave.
"Really?" Impactor murmurs, his tone making you question your resolve as he leans in closer to your audials.
"If all that sweet, sweet noises weren't real then you're one hell of an actor, doll." He growls out. He'd gotten a bit attached to you that night. Impactor remembers how he kept debating with himself right after he had you into a hot, panting mess beneath him— Keep you for himself or keep up his promise as you heaved with your helm on his lap, his servo caressing the top of your helm as you looked up to him with that... that tired, needy look. That sense of Autobot pride was still in him and thank Primus for that because he kept his end. But there were days he needed to hear all of that all over again, have you beneath him like that once more and he couldn't help but regret letting you go. And once he got to Garrus-9? Prison gave him all the similar struggles you had.
You can't help but feel a bit flustered at what he insinuates but he is right. That moment was very real, there is no denying that but the way he's acting like it.. it actually means something to him is-
"It was a one time thing." You mumble out, voice going quiet as you refuse to back down. Impactor doesn't really feel frustrated like he would've felt because he can see that mask slipping off your pretty face, its a process he wants to savour rather than rush.
"A 'thing' we enjoyed." He murmurs out, there's a snarky look to him as he kisses your audial fin and it had your frame beginning to charge up from that alone. He's caged you in and you can feel the hot vents of his frame hit you, his pedes right between your stabilizing servos slowing getting closer inch-by-inch to wedge them away from what he yearns for.
Your processor is going a mile a minute, your systems heating up just a notching and here, he can see the bot he had beneath him once more. You can barely look at him in the optics anymore, so utterly flustered. How you chose to be a Decepticon is beyond him but at least you don't have that purple stain on your chassis anymore.
"I know you think about it.." He can see the way you look at him when you think he isn't looking,
"So? I doubt you do." You blurt out without thinking. That... was an honest response. Too honest and you almost regret saying that but before you can say another word-
"And who the frag told you that?"
You should've seen the look on your face. Priceless. Your optics all wide, his face is basically inches away and he can feel the heat from your systems. You shouldn't be surprised, he's been staring at you since the mission ended; all sorts of explicit thoughts running through his mind.
You haven't really seem him smile a lot but right now, he has a wide, scrap-eating grin and you can practically see the lust in his golden optics, his EM field easily enveloping you and you can feel it. You can feel his need, his desire and its filthy. A small gasp leaves your vocalizer from the sheer intensity of what he feels. You can almost imagine the thing he wants to do, thankfully he doesn't have a way of putting that in your helm but it leaves you with anticipation, a knot in your tanks at the possibilities running through your processor. He needed you badly and it was getting to you, your array coming to life beneath your panels and your stabilizers feel weak.
"You feel that, sweetspark?" He hums, his helm kissing the connection between your jaw and neck, you're not sure if you should feel worried or turned on from the sheer intensity of his need.
Thankfully, Impactor knows it better to show than tell.
"That's vorns worth of want right there." His gruff voice going lower as he takes his servo off the wall and he almost, almost reverently places it on your chassis, right above where your old Decepticon insignia would've been. He seems content with your lack of a brand, digits circling around there as you remain silent. Unsure on what to say or what you should even say to something like this. To Impactor, right now, you look like a snack waiting to be devoured with how you're looking up to meet his gaze all embarrassed. Your own, poorly hidden EM field radiating a similar kind of need, it serves to make him want this even more.
The servo on your chassis begins to trail down you sides, giving your hip struts a light squeeze, a digits caressing the metal plating. It slides further down to your crotch, massaging the panel there.
"Missed me, didn't ya?" He murmurs into your audials as you moan, his servos roughly sliding up and down your modesty panel, his harpoon-servo holding you tight against him, your back pressed against his front as his helm leans behind yours.
"...don't let it get to your head" You mumble out a weak admission but it was the truth. You don't bother trying to fight back because you're practically melting into his touch. Impactor chuckles, nipping a wire by your neck supports.
"I'll shut you up soon enough." He mutters out into your audios and you can feel the charge surging down, beneath your crotch panels. His pede slides completely between your stabilizers. He's bigger than you though, even with most of his weapons systems and some of his bulkier armour was taken away before he was taken to custody but that doesn't make him any less intimidating.
"Wait... in-in the hallway?" Your voice goes all high-pitch and he finds it absolutely adorable how flustered you look, your optics going all wide again. The subtle heat from your faceplates, the way your dermas falter. You haven't changed much but he has, for the worse perhaps but he's going to be more selfish.
"If you think I can wait any longer, you're insane." He says with a rough tone, his strong frame lifting both your stabilizers and hooking them over his shoulder plating, his helm pressed right against your modesty and your fans come to life. You struggle to balance yourself, your servos immediately moving to grip his helm. His face nuzzling into your modesty, his nasal ridge pressing against it, stimulating your mesh beneath which sparks a soft moan from your end. His optics gleam at the sound, its like music to his audios... You sound just like you used to.
"Y-You're crazy!" You protest from above, looking down at him with the most concerned expression on his face. Again, you did... yearn for a mech like him so maybe you're the crazy one but—
"What if someone walks in here!?" You say quickly in a hushed tone, biting down on your bottom derma to block that whine from escaping your vocalizer as he kisses against the panel. He looks like he's soaking in the warmth... Speaking of warm, your face might be heated enough to use as a stove with how flustered you are. The mere thought of being seen like this by anyone has your spark hammering against its casing. Your modesty panel heats up even more.
"How the hell did you become a Decepticon...?" He mumbles against your panel, dismissing your protests as chatter. You look appalled for a second, he catches that and smirks. Proud that he's managed to invoke such a reaction from you.
"I have no idea what you think Decepticons do but from my very personal experience, I can tell you that they do not inter-"
You slap your servo around your intake as he bites down on the seam of your inner thigh, suppress the moan at nearly left you. Other servo holding onto his helm for life. Throwing your helm back as the tip of his glossa pokes a sensor by the seam of your panel. Its been far too long since you've been touched by another, you haven't been able to touch yourself either... Not wanting to give the surveillance bots a show back at Garrus-9.
"Must've been a while..." He taunts, knowing damn well what your frustrated state must've been like. Impactor can guess.
"...you have no idea." You groan as his glossa presses against the warm panel, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses. Your frame gives in soon enough and your panels hiss open. His optics are glued upward, watching your face. You're so worried about getting caught, its almost amusing— Optics darting from one side to another. A part of him wants to tell you that Springer is busy with some official matters alongside the other Wreckers but you're too cute like this.
His golden optics dart down to your push valve in front of him, its just like he remembers. Though, the lighting here is much better than that ship he had you in. Your mesh glistens with lubricant and charge, your biolights pulsing softly and Impactor thinks its almost hypnotic. He meant it when he said you had a pretty array. All worked up because of him. Its making him want, no, need this even more...
"Pretty.." He coos as he kisses your valve lips, making out with it as if it were your own lips. He hums as the taste of you as he continues to slowly torture you, sucking on those mesh folds whenever he pulls his helm back a bit and oh, Primus... Your face... You think the others are around, servo slapped across your intake trying to muffle those sweet whines. Your stabilizers have his helm on a death hold at this point with how they're clamped around his helm, your servo gripping onto him as if you're afraid you'd fall on to the floor.
"...be nicer this time." You manage to choke out as he kisses your valve.
"You know I don't make promises..." He pants out, going rougher at your array. His intake moving away from your greedy valve and onto your sensitive node, sucking onto the nub and making your valve cycle down on nothing. A loud whine leaves you and you bite down on your dermas.
Its like a game to him now, trying to see just how much you can hold back your noises— Even if it technically doesn't matter. Its fun to torment you like this, to make you fall apart into nothing...
His face presses in further against your array, your vents heating up even more, your fans pick up a notch to compensate.
"S-Someone's.. Someone's gonna see us!" You whine out, stifling the cry that almost broke through as his thick digits moves to your valve entrance, roughly breaching through. You can't even thrash around with how risky this position is.
"Imagine that," Impactor swirls his glossa around your node, "Someone just walking to see how much you're enjoying this..." Your vents sputter, his digits roughly coaxing callipers open with every attempt to go deeper, curling them and making your fans go even higher, plush mesh pull him in further with how your valve cycles around his digits.
"...you're j-just a pervert-" A loud moan leaves your vocalizer as his digits start pumping in your valve without any warning, drawing them in and out in a rough pace as he sucks on your node harder, using more force. That pervert comment didn't seem to resonate well with Impactor, even if it is a fantasy of his.
"You need to talk nicer to the mech with his intake on yer array, sweetspark..." He huffs out gruffly. Wanting more to taste and seeing that you've been reprimanded, his digits move out of your valve and leave you empty, making you whimper. Your digits digging into his helm, Impactor could care less about a couple of dents.
He leans in fully against your array, going against your valve like a starved mech running on exhaust fumes for vorns. You cry out, unable to hold back your noises as both your servos hold onto Impactor's helm. His oral lubricant smothering you mesh as he leaves sloppy kisses all over with ravenous intent. His nasal ridge stimulates your node, his rough movements making it rub against it in a needy manner. Lubricant was beginning to drip from your array down, onto his chassis.
His glossa thrusts into your valve and you moan out, back straightening against the wall, his digits prepared you well— Impactor groans as he gets a taste of you, thrusting his glossa in and out in a more frantic pace. You valve being generous enough to give him more charge, it cackles in the back of his intake as he greedily pleasures you. Your noises, sweet noises, almost as desperate as the ones from the night he used to reminiscence: whines, moans, whimpers, groans— The whole deal. Not to mention the metallic tang of your lubricant, he never had the chance to gorge upon you that time... Something on his bucket list he won't leave unchecked and its something he now regrets not doing because you're stunning like this.
Optics all hazy and half-lidded, looking down at him with a desperation that only he can absolve you of, the heat of your frame, pants and vents— He can see the steam puff out. The coolant swelling in your optics, its cute how terrified you are of being seen like this, you look like you might actually cry.
Oh, he... he needs to know what your transfluid tastes like.
Impactor goes even rougher, his glossa going deep— You knew he was a bigger size bracket but this was ridiculous! His glossa grazes against sensors and nodes as he collects more charge and lubricant into his intake. Your noises get louder, more desperate and he finds a part of him wishing the others were actually around to hear you. Your cries are beautiful, they probably sound that desperate with how you think the other's are still on board. Not like it would ever make him regret choosing not to correct you when you assumed the others were still on board. You're cute like this, he'd keep you like this forever if he could.
He brings his digits to your node, you're so close... He can tell with the rapid flutters and the increasing high pitch whines, Impactor can make you fall over the edge so easily— You're lucky he's been craving for a taste of you. His digits attack your node and your back struts arch against the wall he's planted you against from below, you haven't overloaded in so long, you swear you see white as a loud moan leaves your vocalizer. Valve overloading hard against his glossa, velvety walls clamping down on those taste receptors, the taste of your transfluids overflowing through his systems. It makes him groan, his spike straining hopelessly against his own panels.
You pant hard from above, needed a moment to recover and Impactor brings you down, in his servos bridal-style.
You were right about one thing... There was no way he could comfortably spike you down like you need to be in this hallway... Not to mention the small puddle of transfluids beneath. Hopefully, someone cleans that up because Impactor's spike demands your attention.
Good thing he has his own ship. Impactor carries you in his servos down the hall as you lay there, dazed, coming down from a strong high.
Impactor holds onto you tightly. You're not slipping away from him again. Not this time. This time, he's keeping you.
BONUS: (stupid idea i had that doesn't tie into this at all)
"Now what's all the-" Your spark sinks as you freeze in Impactor's grasp. Kup opens the door in on you two and you look like a deer in the headlights.
Kup looks... surprised? Shocked? Disgusted? His cygar nearly fell out of his intake as he registers what's happening and Impactor himself is frozen, his helm snapping to the door the moment it creaked open.
"Look at ya two," He mumbles with disgust, his optics narrowing on Impactor specifically, severely disappointed. How much more humiliation must you face in your life? Your embarrassment heightens and your basically covering your faceplates behind your servos. "Candoodling like.. like academy cadets!"
"Get out." Impactor practically growls at Kup, he... actually looks somewhat embarrassed himself but he can keep his cool unlike you. In fact his servo remains firmly by your crotch, no intention to pull away.
"Should've picked another room then if you had'ta spike down the ex-Con. Supply closets' always the worst choice." The old mech mumbles as he enters to get whatever it was that he came for and your embarrassment only gets worse, Impactor can feel it through your EM field. Your face plates heated up as you're basically melting into a puddle of shame.
He huffs, its cute, almost. Makes him less mad at Kup who walks out after grabbing whatever it was he needed, slamming the door shut behind him.
"And at least have the decency to lock a sparkdamn door!" Kup barks out as he walks away, loud enough for the two of you to hear. "Fought in a war for four million years and for what? Can't even lock a damn door..." Kup mumbles out as he storms away, wanting to delete the sight from his memory banks.
"...he's gone." Impactor mutters, moving his servo away from your modest panel to pull your servos away from your face. You look upset, Impactor can guess why but he's not sorry and never will be.
"...he has a point about the door, you know?" You mutter as you look at the door and then back to him. He doesn't look happy at all, with a heavy huff he marches towards the door and locks it.
"That fragging old mech..."
you guys are so real for putting me back on my impactor train because whoooo boy is he hot.. i need to re-read the wreckers saga because mgkmkhgmmhgmhmymk he's such a sexy ass mech omg megatron proving himself to be fumbletron again because THIS HUNK OF A MECH would NOT be just 'my best friend'...
IN WHICH…MATILDAKISSESXO WRITES MORE HEADCANONS ABOUT HER FAVORITE BOY.
WARNINGS: FLUFF, BREIF MENTION OF SELF DEPRECIATION
A/N: some of these probably repeat from the last one i did but oh well
taglist: @v413ntin4-3spinoz4
bf!jess who is super soft spoken, talking quietly and never raising his voice unless needed or it’s loud in the diner. especially with you, he makes sure his voice is always quiet and soft.
bf!jess who cuddles more often than not. he’d never admit it, but he loves being held and babied. sometimes he lets you be the big spoon, but he refuses to acknowledge it.
bf!jess who wears glasses. secretly. he hates wearing them, always wearing his contacts. but you get to see him in his glasses when he stays over, and it’s a very welcomed sight.
bf!jess who snores. not loudly, but he does most nights.
bf!jess who is such a pretty crier. his eyes turn faint red and his cheeks flush, making his eyes glassy and his lips pouty. he doesn’t cry often, and it takes him a while to be comfortable crying in front of you. he doesn’t like crying either, he thinks it’s embarrassing, even when you reassure him it’s not.
bf!jess who is pretty good at comforting you, though. he wraps his arm around your shoulders and kissing your forehead, letting you talk about what’s bothering you or just staying with you if you don’t wanna talk. sometimes he’ll read to you, or let you pick the movie to watch while he feeds you snacks.
bf!jess who always gives you free stuff at the diner, he never lets you pay. after a few months of you two dating, luke stops charging you either. mostly because he’s glad jess isn’t as misbehaved anymore, and you actually make him more tolerable.
bf!jess who doesn’t want to meet your parents ever. if he eventually does, he keeps his mouth shut 90% of the time and nods along quietly. he’s nervous about screwing things up, because he really likes you and he doesn’t want your parents opinion on him to change anything.
bf!jess who doesn’t make things a big deal. when he asks you out officially, it’s not something big. it happened casually, a soft kiss and a mumbled question asking if that made him yours now. he’ll casually call you his girlfriend when talking about you, or quietly mention things without thinking. that’s how luke finds out you hate insync and that jess keeps ordering the cherries every week because you love shirley temples.
bf!jess who keeps your stuff in his spaces. at first, luke’s confused why jess suddenly has vanilla lip balm with his hair stuff, or the pair of fuzzy socks he finds in the hamper. it isn’t until he finds out about you two that the little things make sense— the pink glitter pen left on the coffee table, the stuffed animal hidden behind his pillow, the tampon shoved under the bathroom cabinet.
bf!jess who lets you paint his nails once or twice. only dark colors, and he whines about it, but he didn’t fight it once when you grabbed his hands and applied the wet polish.
bf!jess who doesn’t particularly like your friends, but is always polite or at least passive, because he never wants to be rude to you.
bf!jess who learns how to do your hair, for when you wake up early and are too tired to do it yourself. he’s not great with a curling iron, but he can braid (sorta) and brush it out nicely. he likes playing with your hair, so he does it when you too cuddle.
bf!jess who drives you everywhere. why ride the bus when he can drive you? he’ll go on walks with you, if you want to. but he’d much rather drive you where you want to go, and he always lets you pick the music.
bf!jess who doesn’t talk much about his childhood. you’d only heard a few things, sometimes when he’s drunk or tired, mostly. the few things you had heard were pretty sad, things about his mom and her past boyfriends. you’d heard about his friends back home too, they sounded nice. and jess told you he’d take you back to new york one day, to see where you could see where he spent his years from ages 13-17, and meet his friends.
bf!jess who acts like he doesn’t, but craves validation deeply. from many people, like luke and lorelai, but especially you. he hates upsetting you, and he quietly freaks whenever he thinks he did something wrong.
bf!jess who likes nighttime. it’s quiet. he shows you the bridge he goes to, and it becomes your hang out spot. especially at night. he brings you there, to talk or just sit. sometimes to drink or makeout. anything, really. as long as he’s with you.
bf!jess who never understood sleepovers until you. why sleep at someone else’s house when you could sleep in your own bed, right? well, now he understands. suddenly, he hates sleeping alone. why sleep alone when he can lay in his girlfriends bed (with an absurd amount of pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals by the way) and be infinitely more comfortable and happy?
bf!jess who doesn’t understand insecurities about looks. he doesn’t understand when you say things like “i can’t eat more chocolate” or “this skirt makes me look 2 sizes bigger”, he’ll just stare at you with confusion and keep eating chocolate. because he’s a teenage boy and not a very superficial person in general, especially not when he thinks you look perfect anyways.
bf!jess who constantly gives you gifts, sometimes instead of communicating. books, CDs, your favorite candy, his hoodies, whatever.
bf!jess who gets bitchy whenever luke asks questions or makes comments about his relationship. he doesn’t commentary, he wants you to himself.
bf!jess who totally bailed when luke first tried to talk to him about his relationship with you. luke tries, really. he tries to keep jess on the right path, and so he tried to do what he assumed was right and attempted to talk to jess about treating you right. but jess just scoffed and got up, grabbing his coat and mumbling something about being able to comprehend health class’ sex ed and understanding how a condom worked, then he left the apartment and luke had no idea where he was for the next 7 hours.
bf!jess who attempts to teach you basketball, so you can play instead of just watching him. it ends with a jammed finger and a bloody nose, and a very funny walk of shame back to luke’s.
Okay, me and @buckgettingstruck have been going back and forth since yesterday and we have reached enlightenment about bucktommy, and I'm here to share. This isn't an anti post btw, this is us trying to make sense of the relationship in the context of the show.
But imagine you're Tommy. You’ve been closeted for most of your life and you recently came out (yeah, recently, six years is not that long). You left your fiance and decided to come out, but since then most of your relationships — friends and otherwise — have been shallow. For some reason, you don't know how to turn off the instinct to keep people at arm's length.
Suddenly you’re helping your old coworkers rescue your former captain and his wife, and in come Eddie and Buck.
You hit it off with Eddie. He’s very friendly and you have a lot in common, so you're hanging out with him and trying to get a feel for him. Maybe he’s into guys. Hanging out with him is fun, even if you still can’t find any actual reason to open up to him about your life. You go to fights, you practice Muay Thai, you play basketball. You have fun.
And then there’s his crazy ass best friend — Buck.
Buck is spinning out about the two of you hanging out for a few weeks for some reason. You kinda assume there’s something going on with him and Eddie and you try to apologize to the guy. Buck tells you that it's not because he’s jealous of Eddie, it’s because he wants your attention. It throws you for a loop (my attention? You two haven’t really talked since he asked for a tour around Harbor), but your interest is piqued. The guy is hot, and he’s cute in a rambly way so you decide to go for it and it works out in your favor. But in the back of your mind, you know that this dude has some very intense relationship going on with his best friend. You had to bring up Eddie’s kid to get him to warm up to you, after all. But for all you know Eddie is straight, and Buck says he wants your attention. You don’t want anything that serious — breaking off the first engagement was hard enough — and you don’t really have anything to lose by just seeing where this goes. You’ve only been out for six years, so you want to explore. Maybe this could be fun.
The first date is a bit of a trainwreck, and the dude turns out to be too intense. Somehow Eddie showed up with that girlfriend of his he’s never really talked about, and Buck is spinning out. You decide to cut your losses and go home — even if leaving Buck on the curb was a bit of a dick move. But Buck calls you a few days later. You meet for coffee. He tells you he doesn’t know what he wants, but he wants to try with you. He invites you to Chimney’s bachelor party and his wedding to Buck’s sister as a nice gesture and you figure, what the hell? Why not? Maybe it’s a little much, but he’s trying.
In your head, you're in a fun, casual relationship because you haven't had the conversation about it being serious. Since Buck doesn’t bring it up or ask you for very much at all, you believe he is on the same page. You keep him at arm’s length so it stays that way — when he talks about almost losing Bobby, the whole Gerrard mess. It’s subconscious, you think, but keep it light and surface level. You don't want something that deep, and he is following your lead. You maybe see each other once a week, considering you both work 24-hour shifts and have chaotic schedules. You go to dinner, you go to the movies, and maybe you make out a little. It's easy and it's fun, and you can stay that way as long as the Buck doesn't push you further. It’s been almost six months now, and beyond venting about Gerrard a few times, he hasn’t even nudged.
It’s a little weird, though, how Eddie’s always there. And you really like Eddie, honestly, but he’s constantly around. Sometimes it feels like you’re the third wheel here. He’s already there when you arrive for Chimney’s bachelor party, dressed in a suit to match Buck’s and helping set up. Suddenly a few months later you’re being invited to Chris’s Zoom birthday party, where Buck looks just as defeated taking the decorations down as the kid’s father. Buck dislocates his shoulder — you didn’t ask why, and he didn’t volunteer the information — and Eddie is there tucked into the guest chair with a magazine and the shitty hospital coffee, asking about Buck’s recovery and return to work. You do get to stay with him overnight, on his uncomfortable couch and falling asleep as he talks on and on about the corpse he accidentally rented (and alright, why did Buck get mad at him for laughing and not Eddie?). When Buck wakes up with boils the next day it’s not even a question for him to call Eddie. Eddie talks him down a lot better than you could, even if the situation is a bit ridiculous. You don’t miss the way he snaps at you for calling him gross — mentioning your cousin gets shingles is apparently a crime — while he tells Eddie to call his appearance what it is and he’ll believe it’s stress if he says so. But hey, getting boils kinda sucks, and Buck is having a rough go lately, so you move past it. But you don’t miss how Eddie seems to sense that Buck’s picking at his face without looking up from his phone when you’re at the hospital a couple days later because of Hen’s kid. You don’t miss how everyone else gets the good news that he’s going to make it through. Everyone except for you.
You kinda want what Buck has, if you’re being honest. He found a family at the 118, with really intense people on his six, and you’re hoping that when the relationship runs its course you can stay friends. Maybe you can still keep part of that. Maybe that’s still within reach, even if Buck won’t even show you the text everyone else got.
Buck goes from zero to a million after that, because he finds out he dated your ex-fiance and his next course of action is to thank you for gay rights and ask you to move in with him.
Up to this point, you thought you were on the same page — light, casual, fun. He didn’t push, but then he shoved you both off a bridge and now you can't ignore the thing that's been in the back of your mind for the last six months.
Honestly, you have no idea what’s going on with Eddie. The mustache is a choice, and he was doing some funny things with that ring pop back at the hospital, but for all you know, he’s a zero on the Kinsey scale. You know Buck has something going on beneath the surface with how he feels about Eddie, whether he realizes it or not. You knew there was an expiration date on this thing when you started, and you didn’t even mind. You kept it fun and light over the past six months. You kept your distance — maybe a bit too much, considering Abby never came up until now. You hoped maybe you’d get to keep some decent friends once Buck figured his shit out. You knew, even if you tried to ignore it. You tried to enjoy it while it lasted.
You tried to convince yourself it wasn’t there for a while. Buck, as far as he knew, still knew, was telling the truth. He wanted your attention, your time, you. He’s still figuring everything out, and you thought maybe you had more time. Keeping it casual and slow could only go so far, in the end.
Buck nudges once, pushes you to consider what it would be like to be in a relationship with him that's serious. He’s talking about living together and you’re panicking a little bit as a thousand scenarios run through your brain, but you can’t see an ending that's not him realizing he has feelings for someone else and leaving you. Another six months, a year, five years — it's all the same.
You didn’t want to get hurt in this situation, but you will be if you stay. You’ve already hurt people by denying the truth before.
So you tell him — I know how this ends.
You didn’t want to. You never really planned on ending it because you figured he would, but you reached the point where you can't come back. He wants more, and you know that would just end in smoke. Not for him, but for you.
So you have to break this guy’s heart. And you know if you break this guy’s heart, you’re going to become the villain. You lose the entrance to a family you wanted to be a part of. You lose the friendship you had with Eddie, who is just as goddamn weird and crazy about Buck as Buck is about him. You lose the potential friendship in Buck, in them both, in everyone. There’s only one way out of here now.
Buck’s somehow still endearing as you end things. You try to nudge him for once, talking about firsts and lasts. He doesn’t get it. You throw in some line a parking spot because the second reserved one Buck got with his loft went to Eddie years ago. You step into the hall, out of Eddie’s shadow, and walk away with nothing.
I was craving a little angst today. Let me know how I did in the comments! Also, please let me know if you'd like a part two!
TW: Angst, Swearing, Spoilers
READER IS NOT MC
.
.
.
Why were you in jail? It wasn't like you did anything illegal, but you'd just so happen to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. You were also terribly unlucky, but that was already a given based on your current predicament...
You were framed with murder.
How you didn't know. Why, you also didn't know. The only thing you knew about the case was the penalty.
They told you themselves: You are to be sent to a place far beyond this plane (a different universe), doomed to be a stranger for the rest of your time there. (This wasn't like the penalties back where you were from, but you didn't want to be stuck in prison for life.)
It seemed light, for a punishment, but you shrugged it off with a 'It's probably normal here.'
But they also told you how you were able to choose where you were to be sent.
You, being the person you were, immediately thought of a game.
You were a part of many fandoms. You loved indulging yourself with these different pieces of media. Of these, Obey Me was a game you particularly liked.
How could you not? The characters were stupidly hot and complex at the same time, and the plot and setting were interesting enough to keep you invested. There were a whole lot of reasons you could list off as to why, but to keep this short:
You loved Obey Me. You loved the characters just as much as MC, if not more.
Which is why you chose that world without a second glance.
Oh, how stupid you were.
.
You had walked out of the shining, blue portal, taking part as a new demon (though you're technically a human) student at RAD. Despite this being a punishment, you had been really excited to finally meet these characters in real life.
Being strangers doesn't mean you couldn't work towards a friendship, right?
You had forgotten this was supposed to be punishment for a murderer, even if you had been framed.
LUCIFER:
He was walking down the halls in a particularly bad mood, after several all-nighters to finish his workload of paperwork.
He turned the corner, making his way to the entrance of the school, greeting the new students who poured in for the new term.
Lucifer handed one student a map of the school, something he and Diavlo should've implemented beforehand, with the increase of new students attending. (MC was an example. Mammon did not do a very good job with the tour.)
The new demon had tried to make small talk, and Lucifer didn't snap, knowing full well how it would impact Diavolo's image.
"This is the map of the school. Please familiarize yourself with the layout of the building." He paused, "I also advise you to keep your thoughts to yourself."
He didn't care about the wording at the time― it's not like it mattered much anyway.
The demon paused, bowed their head and walked away. Looks like they got the hint.
Well, he may have been a bit rude to them on their first day, but he was too prideful to take anything back at that point.
Plus, it was Hell. Demons can take a comment or two.
After some time, he would occasionally see the new student across the hall or in the classroom.
Sometimes he would check on them to see if they were adjusting well, but he didn't bother too much with the demon when he had a human exchange student to watch over.
They never really responded, but he just assumed they were shy.
He didn't bother to ask for their name. When MC had asked him about them, he just let out a "Do you really think I have the time to memorize everyone I meet at RAD? Besides, most of the students here aren't too special. Don't worry too much about them."
He could if he wanted to, but they were just a stranger.
MAMMON:
He met them in one of the two history classes. He forgot which one, but can you blame him?
The second-born had just asked to borrow a pencil, but turns out the demon only had one, so it didn't matter anyway.
When he asked, they had perked up slightly at the question.
He automatically assumed it was because the GREAT Mammon was gracing them with his attention, but this was the only time he actually got it correct.
"Ya don' got a pencil? Lame."
He was cheerful for the rest of the class, despite the fact that the lesson was boring and Lucifer forced him to do it.
He pretends not to notice when they shrink away from his comment.
He pretends that they didn't manage to make him feel important— something his own brothers never tried to accomplish.
But he, too, forgets about them pretty soon.
What can he say? Mammon's a hustler, ya know! He barely remembers the names of those he makes a deal with, let alone a random student in his class!
He would also see the demon occasionally, but they've never exchanged greetings.
When MC asks him about them, after telling him how they felt something was off, he replied, "Come on, MC! Ya can't expect me to remember every face I meet, right?"
He pretends not to notice how they seemed to care about him, despite barely knowing him.
He pretends that ignoring them doesn't impact him at all.
After ignoring them for so long, Mammon truly forgot about their existence. But what can I say? They were just a stranger, after all.
LEVIATHAN:
Leviathan was an anxious wreck.
Lucifer didn't let him participate in the online schooling, with the new year beginning, so he was forced to attend school.
With all these normies...
He hated 'normies' to a certain extent, and being surrounded by so many was getting on his nerves.
Which was why he turned and walked away the moment a demon walked up to him.
He didn't know the demon just wanted to talk a bit, but this was Hell. Demons don't do that without an ulterior motive.
He didn't notice how the demon deflated with a small frown from the reaction. He didn't care— it's not like he knew them.
"Stupid normies," he would mutter as he scurried away to his next class.
Over the next couple of weeks, he would bump into the same demon during the lunch rush. Every. Time.
He would always turn around and walk stiffly away in the opposite direction, even if at times they hadn’t tried to initiate any forms of contact or conversation.
He hated 'normies' like them, and being around demons of this sort would only prove how he was nothing but a stupid otaku.
Oh, how he envied them... it just wasn't fair.
When he had the competition with MC on TSL, he could see them in the audience, watching them― him intently as if they were hoping he would win.
It unnerved him― why were they looking at him like that? They were only strangers; it wasn’t like a 'normie' like them would want to hang out with an otaku like him.
Especially one who avoided them every turn he took.
After the competition (a failure on his part), he found the same demon walking through the halls.
They were trying to comfort him. Him out of all demons?! Leviathan snapped, and he realized too late.
His anger, accompanied by his envy, flared, "Stupid normie, screw off. I don't need your fucking pity, so you'd better suck it before I rip you apart and feed you to Cerberus."
At the time, he didn't care how the demon's face grew alarmed.
He didn't care how their face scrunched up, and they fled the hall.
He only looked back with slight guilt a couple of weeks after, but it was too late. He couldn't find the demon anywhere.
But it was fine― they were just a stranger, right?
SATAN:
The fourth-born was usually found in the library, but this time was different.
Lucifer, his delightful brother, had oh so graciously piled on paperwork to his own workload, effectively shutting down his free time at the library.
As you could probably see, Satan was pissed.
There had been more cursed books he had wanted to check out at the library, but was unable to due to the paperwork.
And this didn't help when a random demon crashed into him and his stack of books.
It was after the TSL competition, and Satan, being the demon who was at his final straw, was seething.
It didn't matter if the demon had apologized and tried to help him pick up and reorder the books. It didn't matter if they already looked hurt and panicked.
"Leave," Satan growled with his wrathful aura, "Leave and watch where you're fucking going next time."
These books were a special part of his collection, and he already had enough to deal with.
The demon had run away, and the fourth-born was left by himself.
Sometime later, in about two days, he would find the same demon sitting in the library.
They looked like they were studying for a test on a topic on which he had a lot of interest.
He didn't bother to ask for their name, nor exchange a greeting.
He didn't even ask if they needed help.
Satan didn't care. It wasn't his business in the first place, unlike with MC, where he felt obligated to help as a member of the House of Lamentation.
He just walked past the demon with a frown, as if the demon were a figment of his imagination.
Had I seen them before?
ASMODEUS:
Asmodeus was the Avatar of Lust.
He didn't truly love anyone but himself (or so he thought), but he cared genuinely for others' physical appearances.
Which is why, when he met a demon after the two-night trip to Diavolo's castle, he gave them tips for their skin routine.
The demon had approached him and asked, obviously shy, and he cheerfully handed them a tube of his extra lotion.
"Everyone deserves to look pretty, but obviously I always look the best~" he had said.
He didn't care about the demon themself, but if someone wanted help on their appearance, who was he to refuse?
He hadn't seen the demon before, so he assumed they were new.
Asmo knows most of the school body, so it was a surprise that he didn't at least know of their name.
Sadly, he was pulled away by his brothers before he could ask.
After a while, he forgot about the situation with the new demon student entirely.
They should understand, shouldn't they? Asmo, being the most beautiful creature there is, couldn't possibly make time for everyone, right?
So when the demon came up to him and thanked him for his advice...
"Oh! Yes, those were basic dos and don'ts of skincare, you shouldn't thank me. Though, have I met you before?"
He prided himself on being able to converse effortlessly with those around him, so it made him cringe internally at how bad it sounded.
His eyes caught the reflection of his face in a nearby mirror, and Asmodeus, the narcissistic and vain fifth-born, was entranced.
How long had he been staring at his reflection?
How long had it been since they had left with a frown on their face?
BEELZEBUB:
Beelzebub was the one who was always hungry.
What can you expect? He is the Avatar of Gluttony, after all.
Something that most demons won't know, however, is how Beelzebub hates seeing someone else hungry.
Sometimes, if he had a lot of food, he would save a little bit. Just a little, enough for them to last a bit.
Which is why when he saw one of the new students sitting in the corner without any food, he assumed they were hungry.
They looked hungry, he'd argue, they aren't eating anything.
The demon wasn't, but they sat straighter when they saw the sixth-eldest walking towards them.
He'd place a singular chocolate bar on the table and slide it towards them.
"You... you look hungry," he would say, and they'd thank him.
If it were any normal demon, the Avatar of Gluttony wouldn't share his food just like that.
But they weren't. They, despite being a demon, reminded him a bit of MC.
It was odd, but he didn't pay it any mind.
For the next couple of weeks, Beelzebub would bring extra food.
If the demon wasn't eating (they said they didn't have enough money for lunch every day), he'd slide them a chocolate bar.
It became a little routine between them, even if they barely knew each other.
He would make his way to the table in the corner every lunch, the one they always sat in.
Even if one day the demon disappeared entirely.
BELPHEGOR:
They didn't meet until a couple of months into the school year.
It was after he killed MC― the last thing he wanted to do was go to school, but it wasn't as bad as it would've been if he were stuck in the attic.
The Avatar of Sloth met the demon during one of those classes with the boring lectures.
They didn't interact much at first, each to their own.
Great, another random demon... was what he thought before— they were both at the back of the classroom, right beside each other.
It took a couple of days before he realized the demon wasn't half bad; they were actually pretty chill.
They watched his back when he dozed off, prodding him awake before the instructor could catch him asleep.
He appreciated that, so he would often give them good dreams so they could be well-rested for the day.
It wasn't until they had a big upcoming test that he grew anxious.
Belphegor had dozed off way too often, causing him to miss important bits of the lectures during class.
He didn't realize the demon who always sat beside him saw his troubled resting expression.
He didn't hear the rustling of papers nearby as they placed down an extra copy of their notes onto his desk, along with a note.
When the youngest of the seven brothers woke up, his eyes fell upon the pages on his desk.
The name [Name] [Lastname] was written on the corner of the first page in a foreign handwriting.
He smiled faintly, tucking the papers into his bag.
When Beelzebub asked him about his mood, he couldn't help but explain everything. (He isn't one to hide things from his twin.)
The day after the test, he placed the papers on the demon— [Name]'s desk, along with a note of his own that expressed his thanks.
[Name] never came.
DIAVOLO:
The Prince of Devildom is a busy man demon.
He has his dreams, his goals, and his ever-increasing paperwork.
The Prince of Devildom is a very busy and important demon, so why would he pay attention to a random student like them?
It wasn't that Diavolo didn't care; he definitely did, but it wasn't like anything about that demon stuck out.
He is a demon who cares about his people and definitely the students in his school. But even if they weren't, he would still care.
Prince Diavolo was like that.
But he was only like that to those he knew and saw.
The new demon student wasn't one of them.
Once, they had been running down the halls and nearly bumped into him.
At the time, Barbatos hadn't really moved, much to Diavolo's surprise. Perhaps he saw something..?
Probably, but his attention was snapped back to the demon who bowed their head and apologized profusely.
"Ahaha! It's alright, just watch where you're going next time and try not to run in the halls."
After that, he didn't really see the demon much.
They had always been so nervous around him; he just didn't want to scare them too much.
Soon after, that interaction was drowned by the other memories and plans he had until it vanished.
MC had asked about the demon, but Diavolo didn't know and redirected the question to Barbatos.
They were just a stranger, after all.
BARBATOS:
The Prince's butler never interacted with the demon.
He was also very busy helping Diavolo and the maintenance on the castle.
Yet, he saw the demon in one of his visions.
He knew how they were framed, how they were sent from another universe, how they were just a human.
But he never dared to say anything.
He never told Diavolo exactly what happened, just said that there would be some surprising information arriving soon.
He saw how they had loved them as characters in their world. Saw how they chose this as a hopeful act.
He also saw how this punishment would break them.
When MC had asked him about them, a thought struck his mind.
Why would he let them break like this?
Oh, right.
Barbatos didn't say anything because he didn't want to disrupt the flow of time again.
That's what he told himself.
He did it for MC because he loved them, but he wouldn't risk such a thing for them.
He didn't have the right to do this again.
"This was supposed to happen."
After all, they had nothing between them. They were merely strangers.
Things like this happen to strangers all the time.
SIMEON:
Simeon had a neutral feeling towards demons.
He doesn't hate them, nor does he particularly like them.
Don't get me wrong, he is mistrustful of demons with no particular connection to the demons he's known, like that demon student.
They shared a couple of classes together, along with that one lecture with Belphegor, and he always noticed them at the back.
Don't think he didn't caught on to their little routine of one sleeping and the other keeping watch.
In his opinion, after taking note of their behaviour, the demon had a great personality.
He would've dismissed them as a human or angel if it weren't for their demonic aura. Which was weird in of itself.
The two actually met when the demon had accidentally bumped into him.
While Luke was busy scolding them for not watching their step, Simeon took this as an opportunity.
"It's quite alright, Mx," he would ask, "May I know your name?"
He found them interesting and a great influence for Luke, though the latter may pout and whine at first.
They were much nicer than he expected, honestly, and (much to his surprise), they were very polite and apologized.
Over the next weeks, he would sometimes find the demon, whom he came to know as [Name] [Lastname], sitting in the back of classrooms.
He would exchange greetings, but even the older angel wouldn't say much afterwards.
They were still a stranger, after all.
LUKE:
Luke disliked demons. Greatly.
He was an angel who reported directly to Michael, and so he shouldn't be the one who joined Simeon at RAD!
I mean, he was right!
These good-for-nothing demons keep calling him a dog! A dog!
He met the nice demon when they accidentally bumped into Simeon.
They had been rounding the corner, and the demon was carrying a stack of papers for a teacher.
"Hey! Watch where you're going! As an angel who..." he gave a minute-long talk about watching where they're going.
He hadn't expected the demon to apologize― so genuinely, too!
Well, this demon was a lot nicer than the others... but don't tell Simeon he said that!
He didn't know their name, but they became one of the demons, the only demon he actually felt safe with.
It was odd; they acted so much like humans instead of demons.
They even patted his head when he said he missed the Celestial Realm!
Luke pretended not to notice when a fight broke out among a group of demons.
He didn't notice when the very demon who patted his head was running away from the group with bruises and scratches littered all over their arms and legs.
Looking back at it, if he had helped, would they have stayed?
In the end, they were nothing but a stranger.
SOLOMON:
Solomon was practically the strongest sorcerer both alive and to ever exist.
He was one of the exchange students at RAD, wandering about the halls of the school.
The classes and lectures the teachers gave here were things the sorcerer had already known or experienced himself.
Yet there were two things that grabbed his attention.
One, being how MC had made pacts with most of the Seven Avatars, something he had struggled to accomplish.
Second, being the demon whom he had come across earlier, who helped another with a kindness he'd never seen in a demon before.
The first one was frustrating, the second was just weird.
He observed the demon from afar, taking note of how they were often overlooked by the demons around him.
He took note of the one thing everyone around him said when he asked about them: they were a stranger.
Solomon knew demons very well, having made a pact with seventy-two.
This... person was no demon. He was sure of it.
Creating a demonic aura is a hard spell to cast, even for me... he thought, They have little aptitude for magic within them... I wonder who cast it.
He never approached them, researching on what they were instead of who.
When they disappeared one day, he could only chuckle.
That demon was still a stranger, despite his observations.
MC:
MC is someone who has had both great luck and horrible misfortune.
From making pacts with the demon brothers to getting killed by Belphegor in the attic, they've seen a lot of weird occurrences during their stay in the Devildom.
They've never expected a demon to save them from being eaten.
Especially one who had the task of taking their soul.
MC had been on their way to one of their classes when they were cornered by a group of demons.
But the demon had told them off and helped MC to get on their feet.
MC was confused, but grateful nonetheless.
They later knew their name as [Name] [Lastname], but their rush to different classes soon disrupted their time of getting to know each other.
MC asked Lucifer, Mammon, Diavolo, and lastly, Barbatos.
It felt weird to them that none of the demons gave them a proper answer.
Barbatos made them feel like he was hiding something.
The next time they saw them, [Name] was running from the same group of demons who had cornered MC earlier.
They had tears streaming down their face with cuts and bruising littering their limbs.
But MC had been busy talking to Simeon and Luke, and they pretended not to notice.
They found them, a day later, stepping through a portal of blue.
It made them think, in another world, could they've been friends?
It was a shame, they realized, that they were merely strangers in this one.
.
.
.
[Name] [Lastname] hated this place.
The Devildom was horrible.
They had been ignored, looked over, bullied, hungry...
Why were they here again?
A blue portal popped up in front of them. Oh, right, they were framed for murder.
The people had found the real murderer and sent for [Name] to be retrieved.
They were a bit too late, anyways.
.
.
.
Diavolo was sent a letter regarding the disappearance of one of his students.
Usually, if someone went missing, there would be a report of them moving, expelled, or dead.
There was none for [Name] [Lastname] until now.
Diavolo didn't know whether or not to be relieved, shocked, disappointed, or frustrated.
Word got out among the exchange students and the RAD student council.
Some didn't care, others felt guilty.
Diavolo couldn't help but scoff.
In the end, despite all of [Name]'s unseen efforts, they were still nothing but a stranger.
cw: fingering, male sub, humping, innocent!art, slight religious themes, reader is very sexual and art is very virgin, art thinks of Patrick while with you which could mean nothing. Took inspiration from @artdcnaldson and her virgin!art au.
NSFW under the cut
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
I love innocent!art I DONT CARE IF ITS CANON
Art had never touched a girl like this before. He’d kissed them, and sometimes they’d touch him through his shorts, but he was always too nervous to go further. From the way Patrick talked about it, he didn’t know if he was prepared. He doesn’t know how to be assertive or dominant. He likes to be sweet, he likes to be.. taken care of.
Of course, he’s watched porn. He’s seen the girls who step on guys and spank them and make fun of them, but that’s just porn. And he’s honestly not sure he wants that either. He just wants to make whoever he’s with feel good, and he.. hasn’t exactly learned how to do that.
But you.. you showed him a whole new world. You were like some sort of sex goddess.. you just knew how to take care of him. You knew exactly what he was thinking— you let him just.. explore you. You were perfect.
He’d liked you for a while now, and you weren’t exactly shy about how you wanted him. So one night, you finally got him into your apartment. It took some puppy dog eyes, but at the end of the day, he couldn’t resist.
Just as he feared, you’re immediately on top of him, kissing him with such.. need. He’s never felt that before. Most girls are always hesitant.. more slow, cautious movements. You just immediately took over, and that made the blood rush straight from one head to the other. He felt lightheaded, and your lipgloss was so sticky and you smelled so good.. he was overwhelmed and fidgety, you could sense his nervousness from a mile away.
“…are you a virgin?” He hears you mutter against his lips. He pulls away slightly as he watches an almost wicked grin grow on your previously sweet looking lips. He blinks a few times at the question. What does he say to that? It’s embarrassing. You know the answer by how he flushes from the tips of his ears down his neck, and somehow, your smile only grows.
He sees how you slightly bite your lip. He can’t help but think you’re a little too excited by the idea of him being a virgin— the look on your face reminds him of how Patrick looked when he found out Art had never jerked off. The face of someone who was about to change his life.
“have you ever touched a girl before?” You ask sweetly, softly. There’s an almost motherly tone to your voice, and it makes his head all fuzzy. He shakes his head after a moment, stuttering out a small “no” as he bats his long eyelashes up at you. He’s so hard it hurts, and all he can focus on his how you’re pressing against him while straddling his lap. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so they just rest at his sides. He wants to touch you, feel you, worship you.. but that’d be too much, right?
He feels your hand touch his own. God, they’re probably all gross and clammy. Now that’s all he can think about. He’s about to start a small apology for his nervous state when he feels his fingers press against something warm and wet. His eyes flit to where his arm leads and he sees his hand underneath your skirt. “You want me to—“ he asks, seeming almost concerned. But when he looks up, you just.. nod. So simply, without a care in the world. And suddenly, he can’t remember why he was so nervous. You’re here..you’ll teach him. You’ll take over where Patrick left off.
He feels around and stops when he hears you make a small noise “was that bad?” He asks ashamedly, but regains his little dignity when you frantically shake your head. He furrows his brow slightly when you tell him to keep doing it, but does as you ask. You’re the expert.
He runs his slender fingers over the raised area over and over and over, eyes trained on your face as he watches you lose your composure. “Inside— put them inside.” You say as you hold back a small moan and he nods, searching eagerly for your entrance. He runs his fingers over the slick skin and finds it rather quickly, slowly inserting his middle finger. He moans at the feeling just as you do— it’s so pleasant inside of you. It’s soft and warm, and so.. close, you’re constricting around his finger like you never want it to leave.
He begins to feel around there, too. Pressing against a particularly squishy spot that piques his interest as you grind on his palm and his lap. He feels himself getting more and more warm, and he feels an all too familiar knot building in his stomach.
Guilt creeps in as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. You haven’t even touched him and he’s about to soil his boxers. How pathetic. Not to mention all he can look at is how hot you look like this. Flushed cheeks, kiss-bitten lips, your boobs in his face. There’s a soft light coming from your desk lamp that shines through your messy hair, and he swears that you’re a god, or an angel.. or something. You can’t feel this good, and look that way, and be.. a person. People have flaws, but you’re just.. perfect.
Your moans get more frequent and loud, so much that he can now hear you over his own whimpers and whines. He wants to tell you to stop, to avoid the humiliation of cumming in his pants. But you feel too good, and he can’t resist the thought of cumming with you. It’s like an obsession now, it keeps replaying in his brain and he has to have it be his reality.
He hears you chant his name and give him a quick warning of your impending orgasm before planting your lips back on his. He whines into your mouth as he tips over the edge and you groan as you do the same. You’re humping against eachother like dogs in heat, and there’s something so beautiful about how you made eachother feel so much with so little.
As you come down, he’s still humping against you, despite the encroaching overstimulation. He wants to feel you as much as possible. You smile “does that feel good?” You ask in that motherly tone, regaining your composure with impressive ease, and he stops like a child with his hand in the cookie jar. He flushes and mutters soft apologies into your shoulder, letting out a pathetic whimper when you tell him to keep going.
