#local shouldn't be allowed to think

[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

Soooo is there a new Trend of bots/trolls going around claiming you had AI write your fics? because that just happened to me

[fangsandfeels]

I know that Kagha is super easy to hate, but I really feel how much Jerra hates Kagha.

She is generally NOT impressed by the Grove. Maybe there is something she doesn't know and understand about balance and shit, but for the gods' sake, this Grove fought Dark Justiciars and Shar's monsters!

They have all the power, all the positioning to fight back against goblin hordes. Moreover, they have a fucking responsibility. It's carved into every plaque around the grove.

And yet, druids walked past reminders of their duty and choose to avert their gaze, hiding away, whining, and placing blame on people tons more vulnerable than them (and yet these vulnerable people were the ones defending the Grove's gate, getting killed and learning to kill for the first time).

Pathetic.

The "we don't have a leader oh if only Halsin was there" was another lame excuse to her -- many of Grove's denizens were centuries older than her.

And they still needed a nanny to get their shit together?

Given all that, Kagha still managed to make herself a particular target for Jerra's scrutiny.

It wasn't just about the sheer audacity of a grown ass woman stating that a child led goblins to the Grove, lamenting about having to do her job.

It was also about the same smug crap Jerra heard long, long time ago (and still couldn't forget):

She knows this kind of narrative all too well. Years may have passed, but she still remembers how her family's vulnerability was exploited. How the "debt" for the food, and water, and refuge was held over her parents' heads and how they were constantly kicked down from ever leaving the status of victims, denied their dignity and turned into expendable fodder.

To people like Kagha, vulnerable people are always nothing more than a convenient target - the ones to become scapegoats for others' mistakes, the ones to be used, the ones denied their dignity.

No wonder that when the Shadow Druid reveal happened, Jerra didn't waste her breath on persuading Kagha and went straight to:

Once again, Kagha had centuries to wizen up. If she didn't learn to make better choices by the time she crossed paths with Jerra, then it's her funeral.

[rustybucketofghosts]

Ever get that thing where you cannot ever hear a phrase or word without immediately associating it with a song, yea that's me. If given the opportunity I WILL break into song when hearing them

[rainiiis]

I cried on my birthday again.

It was expected. It's been a few years since I've last had a happy, tearless birthday.

I've had happy birthday parties, get togethers with wonderful and hilarious gifts I will always be thankful for. But in the end, I always go to bed, and cry on my birthday.

I don't dislike getting older. There has always been this thrill, what will happen next? Is this the year everything changes? This time, will I truly become something else?

But the thrill tones down. Another month turns into another year, and you forget what it felt like to be seventeen. There's this odd comfort to it. Maybe, this year, nothing will change, and I will stay the person I am, and that doesn't feel so bad.

Sometimes though, it turns into fear. The older I get, the more likely I am to lose the things that matter. I am terrified, so I cry, and hide in the arms of my mother because then I am her child, and it's okay to feel lost again, it's okay to feel the size of the world around me.

Age is a thing so big, while I still feel so small. So unprepared, and a little unsure of where to go next.

So maybe, just in my head, I'll stay eighteen for a while longer. Maybe if I'm not ready, and I don't feel like today is the right day to get older, and I still can't quite let go of that scared, fragile part of me that still has so many things to learn about living as an adult, maybe it's okay. Maybe I'll just keep crying on my birthday.

And maybe one day, I'll have it just a little more figured out.

[lockea]

I've been seeing a lot of Discourse around outdoor cats that talks past one of the biggest problems addressing community cats/outdoor working cats so I thought I'd chime in with my two cents.

Many arguments I see just... don't think about the cats at all? Or don't consider the logistics of actually addressing the feral cat problem in a humane way. It's always about how outdoor cats shouldn't be outdoors, which is neither realistic nor helpful.

I used to volunteer at an municipal animal shelter in the USA that had a TNR program (Trap, Neuter, Return) and also adopted out community cats to local farms and businesses. Here's my side of the story.

"Your cat doesn't need to be outside" -- Yes, correct. Your domesticated (non-feral) house cat does not need to go outside at all. They can have a fully actualized life safely indoors. When I see this argument, proponents of indoor only cats are correct in most or all their arguments regarding this.

"Outdoor cats are the largest invasive species in the world, and decimate bird populations." -- This is also correct, and part of the reason why you can help by bringing your house cat indoors. Cats are the largest invasive species. Spay and Neuter your cats, bring them inside, and socialize them so they don't become feral.

"TNR doesn't work." -- False. Whether we like it or not, feral cats exist. We have two methods by which we can address the feral cat population -- decimating them (humanely euthanizing the whole colony) or TNR. For a long time, euthanasia was the preferred way to address the feral cat problem. Afterall, if the cats aren't there, doesn't that save the local wildlife population?

Except that we found, studying these colonies, that when a colony is wiped out, the cats of another colony will spread into their territory and continue to have kittens and the population of feral cats is neither controlled nor diminished.

Hence, TNR. What we found performing TNR on cat colonies was that this controlled the population of the colonies, allowing them to stay in their territory, which kept other colonies from spreading (especially colonies we hadn't performed TNR on yet). We at the shelter felt this was the most humane way to control the feral cat population and safely deflate their existence without dealing with the population blooms that euthanasia caused.

"What about kittens?" -- Kittens from these colonies were brought into the shelter, socialized, and fostered out until they could be adopted. Some of these semi-feral kittens needed special homes to be adopted into, but this was the best quality of life for these cats.

"What about cats that get missed during TNR?" -- We would return to the colony several times over a period of several years to perform TNR on the same colony. We mark cats that have been neutered by clipping their ear (this is done humanely, but is the most reliable way to tell if a cat has been neutered so the poor thing doesn't have to have surgery 3-4 times in their life). Also, during the TNR process the cats would be vaccinated to ensure disease did not spread from the colony (i.e. rabies). Still, even getting 60% of the colony TNR'd would dramatically reduce the number of kittens being added to the colony each year. This controlled the population by allowing the territory to naturally deflate in size over time, buying us time to address the larger feral cat problem.

"What if the colony was in an unsafe location?" -- There were two ways we addressed unsafe colony locations -- remember, we know that when the colony is removed, a new colony will move into its place, so we tried not to move the colony unless we really felt the cats or the public was unsafe -- one was to move the whole colony to a new location. Preferably someplace like a warehouse where we have an agreement with the owners of the warehouse. Some of the cats were even relocated to shelter grounds as our community cats. If the colony was small enough we would bring them into our Feral Cats room and adopt them out as community cats.

"What is a community cat?" -- The way the program worked, was that anyone who needed a working cat could apply to the program. These were often rural farmers or businesses with warehouses that needed rodent protection. We trained the farmers and businesses on how to acclimatize the cats to their new home, and as part of the agreement, they had to care for the cats (veterinary care, vaccinations, food and water). This gave businesses and farms an alternative to expensive and environmentally unfriendly rodent control, and also gave these feral cats good places to live out their natural lives.

"Can't you just adopt out feral cats?" -- No. Cats that have not been socialized around humans as kittens, or who have several generations of feral cat in them could not interact with humans in a way that did not cause them undue stress. This was not a humane way to handle feral cats. However, when a cat was brought into the feral cat room, they would be monitored for up to a week. If the cat displayed signs of being semi-social or fully social (hanging out outside of their den, allowing staff to pet them, showing interest in staff in the room), then we would either move the cat into the adoption room or place them in foster to be socialized before adoption. Feral cats who displayed signs of being able to live full and healthy lives with human companions were NOT adopted out as community cats. We also observed this behavior during TNRs and would do the same for those cats too.

"But aren't cats bad hunters?" -- Compared to other species, cats are not the most effective form of rodent control. This is true. However, you have to understand that feral cats exist. There is no "undo" button we can push to stop them from existing. We have to deal with the problem we have right now, which is to safely and humanely decrease the number of feral cats in our communities. And yes, we do that by using cats as rodent control in the community.

"What can I do?" -- Stop saying community cats shouldn't exist. That's not helpful and doesn't solve the problem we have. Bring your cat indoors. Spay and neuter your cats. Adopt from shelters. Volunteer with a TNR team. Support TNR efforts in your community. Recognize that those of us actively dealing with the community/feral problem are trying to do what is in the best interest of our communities and the animals we love. We aren't sitting over here saying these cats should exist -- a feral cat will not have the same quality of life as one that is indoors with a family -- but we have to address the problem in practical terms. We don't have the moral high ground to just do nothing while pontificating solutions that have no basis in actuality.

And yes, it's okay to celebrate community cats. If your local farm has a couple of working cats, that means that farm is helping participate in the safe deflation of the feral cat population. Don't shame a farm or business for using community cats. We're all doing the best we can to solve the problem that we have.

[sswed]

is it a crime?

alexia putellas x policeofficer!reader

A/N: pure unadulterated smut and a g!p reader, thus minors DNI, thanks

part two found here: everybody knows im a good girl, officer

wc 2.6k

Alexia doesn't actually know just how she gets herself in these kinds of situations but this isn't really the time. She's gotten pulled over, in a foreign country, where she can barely speak the language and the only other person in the car is Jana.

Which means that they aren't getting to the stadium on time or maybe even today for that matter.

You gesture for Alexia to roll down the window and she feels her breath get taken away for a moment. You have the sleeves on your uniform rolled up, which allows her a peak at your rather muscular forearms and the vest you're wearing is tight around your chest.

You're like the hot cops out of those weird police dramas that play on the television sometimes and Alexia cannot believe her luck. If you weren't the one pulling her over, she'd ask if you wanted tickets to the game or maybe even her number. 

You knock on the window and Alexia scrambles to roll it down while shushing Jana's giggles.

"Afternoon, ma'am," You say politely while taking a look inside the car.

Jana is sitting in the passenger seat and you can only see two bags on the back seat, both black and from nike. Nothing to worry about really which makes this so much easier to dismiss.

"Afternoon," Alexia replies in a murmur.

"Licence please," You put your hand out and take Alexia's drivers licence to glance over it quickly.

You smile, "Do you know the speed limit here?"

Alexia curses under her breath and looks around, all the street signs show only directions. She's about to get a ticket, in England, while she's running late for pre-match training. She knew that she shouldn't have let Jana convince her to rent a car for the few days they were here.

"Err..."

You laugh a little and smile kindly again, "Where are you from?"

Alexia feels her heart speed up at the dimples on your face and the way you casually lean against the car to run a hand through your hair.

"She's from Barcelona!" Jana leans over Alexia with a grin, clearly she's a little more outspoken than Alexia.

Your eyes lighten up. The time to use your Spanish has finally come and maybe your co-workers would stop teasing you for taking classes every week if you tell them that it has finally come in handy. 

"Right, I'll let you off with a warning this time but be careful and pay attention to the speed limit, okay?"

Alexia is taken aback. Your Spanish is flawless, like a local's and she wonders whether you're from Spain even though you don't look like you are.

"Y-yes, of course," Alexia stutters out and elbows Jana when goes to lean over again.

You pat the hood of her car and lean back, "Have a nice day."

"You too!" Jana waves at you and you wave back as you walk to your police car.

Alexia turns to Jana abruptly, "Never again."

Jana laughs while Alexia starts the car again.

"You thought she was hot, Ale!"

Alexia clenches her jaw and decides to ignore her passenger, instead she turns on the radio and drives to the stadium. This time following traffic rules.

Barcelona won over Chelsea the next day. They go from being two down in aggregate to winning 4-2 mostly due to Aitana and Pina but they all go to celebrate with the fans in the away end.

To Alexia's surprise, you're there with a Barcelona shirt on, hugging Lucy and congratulating her with a pat on the back. The shirt you're wearing is a little tight, clearly not yours but Alexia thinks it looks brilliant on you anyway.

"You have to come to the party!" Lucy's trying to convince you to join their "party" in order to properly celebrate the win and place in the final.

"Don't you have training tomorrow or something?"

You shrug her arm off you and raise a brow. You've known Lucy for a while now, ever since secondary school actually so it would be a sin to miss a game of hers if she's playing in England but that doesn’t stop her from being annoying. 

"Tomorrows a free day," Lucy argues and you sigh, she's stubborn like a mule.

"I have work tomorrow," You try but Lucy doesn't fall for it.

"You have a night shift, so you're free."

You scoff and eventually nod. You'll stay for a maximum of an hour, then when Lucy finally lets you go, you'll take the opportunity to slip away.

The opposite happens. Lucy drags you around to meet everyone, one by one and you introduce yourself to them, mostly using Spanish and before you know it, it's been two hours and a drink later.

"Now this is la Reina or capitana."

You blink a few times. This is the exact same woman that you pulled over yesterday for speeding. It's just your luck to run into probably the most sexy person you've pulled over at an after party and find out that she's a world class athlete.

You try to smile but it comes out like a grimace, "Hola."

Alexia looks just as shocked. You're still wearing that tight Barca shirt that makes your biceps pop and there is now a visible sweat on your forehead from the heat in the room. You look like walking sex and Alexia wishes that you didn't pull her over yesterday.

"Hi," Alexia replies and then takes a sip of her coke.

You nod at her and turn, hoping that Lucy will drag you away but she's gone. Lucy's just disappeared on you and by doing so, she's left you with Alexia. Who is the hottest person you've ever seen and someone so off limits it's ridiculous.

"Err..." You shuffle awkwardly, gripping the glass in your hand tightly.

Alexia is dressed magnificently. Her t-shirt is perfectly cropped just above the waistline of her jeans and you can't help but let your eyes wander over her figure.

"Listen, can we pretend that I didn't stop you yesterday?" You ask sheepishly and relief floods into you when Alexia nods.

It turns out that you and Alexia get on better than you thought you would. Actually, you hit it off. Talk about your dogs, her job and yours, about London and Spain. Then before you know it, you've been at this party for three hours and you're in a bathroom with your back against the door and Alexia's tongue down your throat.

"Shit, Ale.." You mutter through the kiss.

Your hands are firmly placed on her ass, gripping the fabric of her jeans and occasionally kneading into the flesh. She's gasping into your mouth with her strong arms wrapped around your neck so that she can kiss you comfortably.

Then she lets one of her hands fall from your neck to your stomach where your abs flex under the silky material of the shirt. Alexia runs a nail down the middle of your stomach and you groan into her mouth.

You don't think you've ever been harder in your life and Alexia is making it difficult not to do anything. Then she lets her hand drop to your belt and stops kissing you.

You pull back and look at her with hooded eyes. Alexia looks like a vision, her lips are slightly red and pupils are blown wide open, making her eyes impossible dark.

"Can I, Officer?" Alexia smirks and you can't help but groan.

You nod furiously and Alexia unloops her other arm from around your neck and it joins her other one on your belt. She unbuckles it with quick and nimble fingers then slides one of her hands into your trousers.

"Ah, fuck," You gasp out when a hand palms your clothed cock.

Alexia smirks, "Is that a baton in your pocket... or are you just happy to see me?"

You let out a shaky laugh before moaning deeply when Alexia presses her palm firmly against your cock. God, the feeling is beyond deadly. You need her so bad it hurts.

You give her ass a firm squeeze that makes her jump a little. She's teasing you, letting her hands roam around the inside of your trousers without actually slipping into your underwear. It's making the want pool in your stomach at an alarmingly fast rate.

"Don't tease," You say through clenched teeth, you're desperately trying not to moan loudly.

After all, there is no reason to make this a public announcement.

"Sorry, Officer," Alexia mewls then unexpectedly drops to her knees.

The image is one you'll forever have burned in your mind. She's got her hands on the waistband of your underwear, looking up at you expectedly with a cat-like smirk.

Fuck it, you whine loudly, you've stopped caring about what people think. Right now, you only want her.

Alexia takes that as the go-ahead and swiftly pulls down your underwear. She's greeted by your hard cock and you can't help but hiss at the cold air of the bathroom.

She wraps a hand around you and you moan slowly. You need her, so, so bad but you resist the urge to buck in her hand.

"Come on, please..." You groan out, hands splaying on the polished wood of the door.

Alexia obliges you with a smile and takes you into her mouth. It feels like heaven. Her mouth is so wet and warm that your eyes roll back into your head for a moment.

"Shit," You moan out and resist the urge to tangle your hands into her hair.

Alexia swallows down another inch with ease before taking both of your hands and placing them onto her hair. You raise your brows and only card through her scalp with a gentle hand.

This is clearly not what she meant because Alexia looks up at you a few moments later, then pulls off you to speak.

"Need a little encouragement?" Alexia says suggestively and you scoff.

You take a handful of her hair and urge her back down. You aren't shy this time, you let yourself thrust a little into her mouth and use her hair to stabilize yourself.

"That's so good, shit, you're so good," You murmur out praise in quick succession.

Alexia responds by hollowing her cheeks and sucking harder. You see stars then, she feels so good and you know that you're not going to last long if you keep this up.

You tug Alexia back and off your cock, she, in turn, looks up at you with questioning eyes.

"I want to fuck you, can I?"

Alexia smirks and stands while you tuck yourself back in for a moment. This time, you lift her so that she is seated on the sink and lean forwards to kiss her hard.

You can taste yourself on her lips but you don't care. Your hands roam down her body, feeling every mountain and fall and she's palming your stomach with needy hands.

She pulls back slightly, just so you can still feel her breath going into your mouth and her nose touching yours.

Alexia whispers, "Are you going to fuck me, Officer or no?"

"Be patient and you'll find out."

Your hands travel down to her jeans and you quickly discard them so that they are merely a heap on the marble floor. You then place a hand over her pussy, she's soaking wet. So much so that her underwear is drenched beyond belief.

"Someone's needy," You chuckle and Alexia rolls her eyes.

You kneel down and tug her underwear down, then throw them to join her jeans. You look up at her while you lick a long stripe up her cunt and you can feel the way Alexia shudders underneath you.

"Oh God," Alexia moans loudly and you smirk against her.

"No, no, just me, darling."

Alexia goes to roll her eyes again but mid way through, you twirl your tongue around her clit and her eyes roll back into her head involuntarily.

You suckle on her clit with hollowed out cheeks and Alexia howls above you. The whole place can probably hear it but that's the last thing on your mind right now.

You flick your tongue against Alexia and her hands fly to your hair while her legs wrap around your shoulders. There is practically no way out, not with Alexia's strong thighs wrapped around your head but you don't want an escape either way.

It only takes a few more minutes before Alexia is cursing out loudly, her hands tugging your hair in different directions and her thighs are squeezing around your head.

"Shit, shit-" Alexia moans out quickly and you smirk against her.

You use your hands to pry her thighs off your head and stand once again. Alexia's finger ball up the front of your borrowed shirt and drag you closer until she can kiss you firmly.

"If you don't fuck me now," Alexia mutters the threat into the kiss and you smile.

You pull her off the sink then twirl her around and press her to the front of it. You meet her gaze in the mirror and smirk wildly while she looks at you with slightly widened eyes.

"You want this?" You lean forwards to murmur into her ear and you see her nod in the reflection.

You push down your underwear and wrap a hand around your cock, give yourself a few pumps before sliding into her. She's so wet and tight that you immediately screw your eyes shut and join her in a high pitched moan.

"You feel so good,"

You plant your hands on her hips and give a few shallow thrusts. This is everything you wanted when she suggested going to the bathroom.

You close your eyes and let the sensations overtake you for a moment, she's clenching around you each time you bottom out and it drives you crazy.

You open your eyes and meet Alexia's in the mirror again. She's got her mouth slightly open, panting as you speed up your thrusts. It takes a minute until you find a perfect rhythm but when you do, you have Alexia clawing at the porcelain sink .

"Harder!" Alexia whines out and you give her a thrust that sends her forwards from the force.

"Yeah, right there," She's moaning uncontrollably, loudly so that it echoes through the room.

You think about pressing a palm to her mouth, shushing her but you decide that the damage is done. There's no point trying to be quiet when the two of you have already been too loud.

"I'm close," You whimper out while your thrusts become erratic.

"I'm going to come soon, Ale."

"Give it to me, Officer," Alexia winks at you in the mirror and you can't help yourself.

You groan loudly as you come inside Alexia. It feels Godly and you feel her tighten around you as she reaches her peak as well. You moan lightly as you pull out and brace yourself against the sink.

"That... was," You gasp out, breathing heavily.

Alexia catches her breath next to you. She's got a thin layer of sweat on her face that matches yours and her cheeks are flushed red. You turn to look at her and she presses a soft kiss against your lips.

"Fantastic?" Alexia raises a brow and you laugh.

"Yeah, fantastic."

A loud knock sounds on the door and it is followed by a few others.

"You done, capi?" Patri calls out, clearly laughing.

Then she's joined by Lucy, "You were supposed to be my ride!"

Both your eyes widen and you turn to look at Alexia.

"Maybe we should stay here forever?" You say, embarrassed and flushed.

Alexia nods with wide eyes, "Si." 

When you walk out a few moments later, you’re greeted by a crowd of cheers and Lucy’s smirk. 

[whore-ibly-hot]

THROUGH OUR LORD AND SAVIOR @yanderereblogs THE FACULTY HAVE BEEN FOYND AND RETURNED TO US! PRAISE BE TO REBLOGGERS, SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL ARCHIVISTS!

Yandere Boarding School Part 2, (Faculty)

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Multiple yanderes, non-con touching, dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, aphrodisiacs, general perversion, dry-humping, voyeurism, controlling behaviors, typical yandere stuff, breeding, smoking, horny posting.

(AN: Part Two has been reuploaded after a takedown, godspeed @yanderereblogs for saving it! Mmmmmm, old men. Everyone pictured as a student is OF LEGAL AGE TUMBLR MODS HOP OFF MY DICK.

Background: Thinking about a Headmasters Son or Daughter!Reader at a private boarding school. For a Fem!Reader, perhaps you're just visiting daddy for the season while he's running the school, or maybe you've been bad, and need more supervision. For a Masc!Reader, it could be the same case, however, with Ridgemoore Academy being an all male school, this makes it easier to imagine a world where reader is allowed in the school. Now, let's focus on the faculty...

◇ Mr. Joel Murphy, who teaches the majority of the 'life skills' classes at the school. The school being all-boys is very traditional, and teaches things like game hunting and orienteering, which is why they hired a manly-man like Joel. If only they knew what a bitter grump he is. An ex-sheriff of the nearby town, he decided to leave the force after realizing there was no real crime in the small, privileged town, and decided to take up an easy job at the school. Unfortunately, he realized his love for camping and hunting is warped into what he considers 'frilly shit for rich little boys'. He's gruff, barking out orders and easily been exasperated at the sheer incompetence of the boys.

"Shoot one quail, and these boys act like they killed a bear..."

He thought about retiring from yet another job, as living on the ritzy campus just doesn't feel like home to him, and lord knows he's not fond of his job. However, things change when you arrive. Whether you're a delinquent or a little more sweet and obedient, he likes you. If you're a delinquent, he likes seeing a little hell-raiser kick up some shit at the fancy school. If you're sweet or shy, he gets protective. Nice youngins' like you shouldn't be thrown in amongst these spoiled weasels.

He's sure to help you if you need it, a gentle hand on your back as his burly chest presses against your shoulder blades, adjusting your position against the butt of a rifle. Standing by while you're on hands and knees trying to light a fire, making sure none of the boys are trying to get a look at your assessts. Not that he isn't going to, but he justifies it to himself as just making sure your school shorts/skirt is regulation. He's protecting your modesty. After class hours, come to him with any issues, or shit, even his room. He'll put on some coffee and ask you to help him create a curriculum that 'reaches the kids', as your father instructed him to. It's cozy, the fancy school adnorments thrown away for medals and plaques, national parks posters and a few old family photos. He'll keep you tucked in on his warm couch while he strays from curriculum talk to stories of his time in the scouts and on the force. Tells you about how much he loves just... laying out under the stars with somebody special, to sit around a campfire with friends, then slyly ask is you've ever had somebody to do that with. He knows you're younger than him, and he struggles with the idea that you won't want him cause of it, so for now, he'll bask in the feeling of seeing you curled up in his room, keeping the idea of picking you up and having you accept his cock to himself. If you can get pregnant, his fists his cock to the thought of that too. He's not some horned up boy, he wants you in the long term.

He looooooves the yearly orienteering final, in which the students in the class are made to go on an actual camping trip. It's possible a tent will 'accidentally' go missing, leaving you to bunk with him. Don't worry, nothing bads gonna happen while you've got this burly bear of a man practically spooning you, warm gut from his dad-bod pressed against you as he tries his best to make sure he doesn't scare you.

"Sorry those damn boys left your tent back at the school, kiddo. I... wouldn't be suprised of one of them did it on purpose, little bastards." He grumbles, hoping you'll take the hint to separate yourself from those immature preps and stick to being with a man who can treat you right. "Remember that lesson from a couple weeks ago, on body heat? I know it's awkward, but we've only got one sleeping bag. You feel like you can trust this old man to keep you warm?" Unfortunately for his ego and trying to keep down his urges, the trees aren't going to be the only wood in the morning.

◇ Mr. Paul Burton, head of the arts department. He's so over this, a once decent artist who dabbled in pop art and theatre only to stop getting gigs and be black-listed after offending several more famous artists, calling their work 'sell-out chic', he's now a burn-out who smokes and ignores his students all class. He's passionate about art, but frankly he doesn't want tow aste his time teaching when he knows these rats are taking his class for easy credit. He's only teaching here to utilize the facilities and studios so he's not living in a van in the Walmart parking lot. A mix of hippie culture, live and let live and cynical burnout, he's so. Fucking. Done. But... maybe you change that for him.

You're interesting, a headmasters child who doesn't fit in to your fathers perfect mold? Maybe a rebellious student who goes against the grain of this perfect school. Or a blooming ray of sunshine in this dark den of privilege and conformist curriculum for the future lawyers of the world. Either way, he's found a new muse. See him after class.

He'll be thrilled if you're into art, let him guide you. Tell him your favorite artists and he'll tell you when he threw up on there shoes by accident in his hey-day. Gossip about a student you don't like, he'll listen while he smokes and tell you about how that guys mom hit on him. He loves to gossip, but he loves to watch you create more. The way your hands shape a vase or brush across a canvas light a fire in him he hasn't felt in a while. He's more willing to forgo the age gap between you, while it's never something he considered before, he knows he's not gonna let go of the one thing that makes him feel like he lives again. Besides, he's always been unconventional.

He'll have you stay after class, maybe he'll have you pose nude for a painting, assuring you it's fins, it's platonic, it's just for the love of art. He chooses and extra large canvas, it lets him paint while he relieves himself as you explain you're getting cold. He'll put on some artsy, silent, black and white film from the 30s, and while you watch and slowly realize it's pornographic, He'll grin to himself while he watches you flush. He'll ask you all sorts of questions about your thoughts on the film, the actors, what they're doing. He really wants to figure out how experienced you are. "What do you think of the composition? It's really carnal, you know?" He puts out his cigarette. "I'm glad I can show this to you, you'll actually appreciate it. You're not giggling like an idiot when some guys penis is out on the screen." He groans, thinking of his other students.

He does actually like one student, though they make an odd pair. Joseph's easily spooked and shy personality clashes with the brash older man's, but he's glad to have someone he can think of as a protege. Someone who loves art as much as him, but get isolated for it. He was doing a portfolio look over when Joseph accidentally turned in the wrong folder. Joseph feels like he might die as Mr. Burton, a man he admires, flips through nude pictures of the object of his affection, and at a distance no less. A part of him wants to rip it away, but he needs this scholarship.

"Please, please, sir! I-I'll never do it again, it was just a phase, I didn't mean for you to see-"

"They're good." Mr. Burton flips through the folder. "Real good. You could really get somewhere with these, maybe not in the fine art scene, but... tell you what." He adjusts his glasses and leans forward on his desk. "We'll do a special session, you and me, yeah? I'll get your friend here, and I'll vouch for your integrity so you can take some less-" he purses his lips. "Stalker-ish pics- Jesus, kid, is that taken from a tree?"

☆ Anatoli Sidorov, probably the best paid staff given how they got him here. He's a Russian coach for a former Olympic Russian swim team, and he joined the prestigious American school to escape shame after he 'resigned' post a doping scandal which he swears he wasn't involved in. (Whether he was or not is your choice.) Still, he's led the boys swim team and track team to nationals several times, and he's a legend among the wealthy benefactors of the school. He's outwardly very serious, hard on his team but respectful of them. He doesn't put up with any unruly or unsportsmanlike behavior from his boys, at least not what he can see. He's very nice deep down, intellectual and funny, though he still struggles with American humor and English.

He adores you when he meets you, milking about with the other students before class. You seem genuinely social, and wanting to fit in. The idea someone could be so welcoming warms his heart. Deep down, he misses his home, and he misses the friends he once had. You're warm, and he likes that. Not to mention, you're a looker. He's embarrassed, especially if you're male, seeing as he never considered swinging the other way, and much less with someone younger. But he can't help but stare when your pretty tits bounce as you run, or the way those jogging shorts hardly conceal your bulge. He even pulled you to the side one to scold you for not wearing regulation gym clothes, before realizing they were and awkwardly sending you back into class. That was a moment of self-reflection for him.

He's not necessarily outwardly softer to you, you might even think he doesn't like you, given that he has you stay late to run or jump rope, or constantly pulls you into time out mid-game. It's all for your own good, trust him. He doesn't like the way some of the boys were looking at you, and he could tell Evan was a only a play away from trying to practically hump you while trying to 'get the ball'. He's made Harrison, who he loves as a player, run laps for talking to you for only a few minutes. He hates feeling like a jealous boy, but he can't help it. You make him feel young.

He establishes a private locker room area for you, since you're the headmasters kid and not an official student. Besides, you're clearly being harassed by the others! So, he's got a nice little closet for you, with a not suspicious air freshener that's not a hidden camera, and a private key only you have access to. (Technically that's true, he just has a bypass key for himself.) He'll snatch a pair of boxers or some panties, slipping them into his track coat for later. Eventually, he'll tell you he's worried you aren't able to catch up to the others, given that you arrived later and started the gym curriculum later than the others. He'll start having extra 'make-up' workouts with you, starting with stretching. One leg uo on the bar, you'll have to excuses his cold hand running along your thigh, or stroking over your chest as him just admiring how your strength and flexibility is evolving. He relishes the feeling of your body on his, groping you under the guise of training and resisting the urge to just slip aside your gym shorts and veg you to take him.

"Little star, part 'dem a little, there ve go." He keeps your legs parted as he works you into a position on your back, against the rubber mats the tumbling team had laid out. He lays just over you, pushing your legs back a little further with his arms, just far away enough to keep you from noticing his hard on, but enough to lightly press it against the plush swell of your ass. Good, let's just- fuck- hold. Let's hold."

☆ Kory Koffman, English teacher and part time librarian! The school outs so much effort into sports, both admin and students seem to forget about him. Hell, the library is used so little they fired the librarian, and he took it upon himself to try and care for the building himself. He's a sweet, shy man, who just wants to share his passion for literature with others. However, unlike Mr. Burton, he was never popular or famous, so he's content to keep to himself, but the loneliness does get to him.

When you wandered into his library one day, maybe looking for a book or seeking refuge from a hoarde ofadmirers, he was happy to welcome you into his little safe haven. He'll give you some warm tea from the little coffee machine he has set up, and sit you down. Let him help you find a book, or tell you about his creative writing class? He'd let you join, even late in the semester! It's not a very full class.

For the first time in his life, he finds himself craving the attention of another, of someone else's company, other than his books. He hasn't felt that need for connection since he was a boy, after his momma passed. He'll do anything to keep you there, and if reading isn't your thing, much to his chagrin, he'll add a DVD section to the library, but only good films and classic for you! No Adam Sandler, those movies are to overstimulating for poor Mr. Koffman.

As his feelings turn romantic, he's ashamed. You're a student, and he's a lonely old man, you deserve someone better, someone your age. However, the thought of you being with any of the many students who mock him in the halls or disrupt his class, the thought of hand you over to those-those imbeciles, hurts him. He wants you, and he's ashamed at the way his trousers go tight when you bend over to get a fallen book, or when you hand him his glasses after he misplaced them (again), the fact he just stares at your finger prints for awhile and refuses to clean the lens. He's not had sex in a long, long time, but he finds himself masturbating more than he ever did when he was younger. He'll watch library security footage openly, moaning and whimpering at his desk with no fear anybody will stop in, no one ever does but you. He wants you as his spouse, you already make his library, his home away from home seem brighter, imagine what you could do for his actual apartment.

"Oh, hello! It's good to see you, it's been a bit." He's a little bitter at that last statement, but adjusts his glasses and continues. "Just remember to stop by often, okay? I'd really, really hate to impose the late policy on you..."

☆ Atticus Critch, the schools latin instructor and head sponsor of student body, (not to mention the man in charge of detention), is a strict disciplinarian. He takes no nonsense from anyone, and despises the behavioral pardons given to boys like Evan or Harrison simply because they are athletes. Peter is obviously his favorite, and when he catches wind of the ways the boys around campus are speaking about you, he decides to take it upon himself to remove the distraction, by having Carter trail you and give you detention for minor inconveniences. Carter isn't particularly thrilled at always having to send you to detention instead of extorting you to get his rocks off, but he's hoping maybe he'll get to 'monitor' detention one of these days.

Initially, Mr. Critch has you doing small tasks, writing lines or organizing things, but soon he starts to see the appeal. If you're a good student for the most part, he's determined to keep you good, and away from all the vermin in this school. If you're bad, he's had plenty of experience in taming brats. He's open with his sexual desires, it his growing affection for you that makes him struggle.

If you've stayed out too late and broke curfew, you can spend detention on your knees, suckling his cock into the late hours. Maybe you've been running around with Tyler. He'll make you lay down on his desk and deny you your climax over and over again, asking 'if not making you cum' is what that boy does to you, never fully satisfying you. He'll make you beg to finish, and to promise you'll be good from now on.

"Come on, repeat it. Tell me you'll be good now, that you won't bother with BOYS-" He annuciates with a thrust, "When you have a man right here, whose willing to take time out of his day to discipline you!" One the amorous session is over though, he definitely softens, trying to prove he's more than a boy in many ways, including good aftercare. He'll dress your limp form back up in your uniform and walk you get you a cup of water from the fountain. "Only ten minutes till your detention is over, dear. Just sit there, take some time to reflect on how you got here." His tone is demeaning, but as he pets your scalp, his touch is so feather-light. Don't expect is to last into the next day though.

[tinydefector]

Every single day I think about your post about bots being freaky xenophiles about humans it is my Roman empire

Heheheh I'm glad you guys like it but here's some other funny ideas I have of humans being stupid little creatures forgetting that the bots are literally Alien robots.

- getting smoochy with one of the Bots and attempting to fondle them, you slap their headlight and their horn honks, scaring not only you but the bot themself, it kinda ruins the mood but it's worth the laugh afterwards.

- specifically an Optimus Prime one. Having to tell this bot to get a power wash before he's allowed to sleep with you becuase God forbid you have to lay beside him because all you can smell is diesel and it makes your stomach churn so badly. He will grumble about it but if it means he gets to cuddle and hold you of a night you can bet your boots he is squeaky clean. (Also leads to alot of bathroom fun)

- taking any of the speedsters to a show and shine, it's like a fuckin car porn show and the bots are just stunned. Rodimus is having the time of his life literally having humans touching every inch of him as they admire his paint and engine. He loves it even more when you get the bucket of water out. It becomes something he regularly ask you to go do with him becuase he loves having you dressed up all nice and showing him off. In more than one way the praise really makes him feel worth it. He loves having you lean into his engine bay asking if he's alright, asking to just let them know when he wants to go. And this bot treats you to a nice beach side date after. (He has every local show and shine dated) other bots who love this consist of. Tracks, Jazz, Mirage, Knockout(he likes making Breakdown Jealous. Get cucked in the back row)

-rust, it is ratchets most hated thing to deal with because of how corrosive it is to their frames, and trying to find something on earth that works well enough to clear it off so he can do surgerys leads him to the humans gifting him a large thing of Coca-Cola, it works just as well as clean cutter (cybertronian rust remover), when he realises the ingredients are very similar it makes life so much easier until he catches The humans drinking it and he nearly has a spark attack trying to make them regurgitate it. It leads to him finding out that humans casually drink it when they really shouldn't.

- the bugs and insect carnage left in the bots grills, windshield and just small gaps. The horror on one of the humans face when they kiss their bot and then that taste the nastness of dead bugs. Or them enjoying laying on their bot and then a spider crawls out of a gap, scurring right towards them. It leads to the bots regularly getting washes alot more that they ever would have on cybertron, and it's time each bot loves so much. Becuase it develops into pull sized bathtubs, power washing, polished and just proper care given to them.

Here's also a collection of new things humans do that become kinks or fetishes for the bots.

- cleaning/ washing,

- panel beating and repairs

-causal car maintenance

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[potofsoup]

Happy July 4th, everyone, and good luck to the UK voters out there!

Wow it's Year 11 of doing these!! Here's the AO3 link to the past 10 years, and here's the tumblr link.

Reminder that this is a long game -- some of the judges making decisions were appointed back in the 80s. Many of the cases that were decided this round were from Trump's term. So it's going to take long-term, consistent voting over a decade to start tipping things in the other direction. (Which I talked about in 2018 re: Trump shenanigans and 2022 re: Dobbs).

A lot has been done by the Biden administration (I'm assuming most folks have seen this post by boreal-sea with their very helpful sources), and much of that will be overturned by Trump, especially if he gets the Senate, and especially now that he would have a blank check for anything "official". So let's make sure that doesn't happen.

And even if Trump does get elected, your decisions down-ballot might effect control of the House or Senate, or might make it easier to vote next time, plus the whole plethora of state and local issues. It's Republican state attorney generals who are challenging climate regulations, for example.

Plus, when you really get down to it, only one of the candidates plans on pardoning himself and all his friends if he wins, and attacking the government if he loses. Maybe that guy shouldn't be the President.

If you're new to voting, remember to check voter registration deadlines! I'm a permanent vote-by-mail voter and it's so nice. :)

Transcript under the readmore

Page 1: Sam and Bucky meet up with Steve for a picnic. Steve: Thought you guys were still in Sudan? Bucky: I’m forcing Sam to take a break.

Sam collapses onto the picnic blanket. Sam: Oof, it just never stops, does it? Steve: Nope.

Bucky hands Sam an orange popsicle. Bucky: Eat and relax for a bit, Sam. Sam: Thanks.

Page 2: Bucky asks Steve: How are things state-side? Steve responds: HORRIBLE. Bucky: I thought you’ve been tentatively hopeful about what Biden has been able to achieve? Steve: I was! Student loans, child care, climate regulations, infrastructure, labor, trans rights … he’s quietly done a lot through regulatory improvements and congress bills. But now all people will talk about is how he’s OLD. And then there’s the Supreme Court’s decisions … Chevron and immunity… Steve puts his head in his hands, while Sam and Bucky look on with some concern.

Page 3: Bucky hands Steve a blue/raspberry popsicle: Steve, take a deep breath, and a popsicle. Sam: Sounds like we missed a lot. What’s going on? How bad is it? Steve: Pretty bad. The Supreme Court has made some decisions that give the Court and the President A LOT of discretionary power. Sam: Yikes, that doesn’t sound good. Steve: Well, the Chevron thing means that judges with life-term appointments can override policies made by government agencies. And now it’ll be harder to hold a President accountable because he will have immunity for any “official” actions.

Page 4: Sam: So if the President tries to, say, overturn a democratic election result, he’ll be allowed to as long as it’s in his job description? Steve: I don’t think threatening state electors is “official” business, but that will be decided by federal judges. Who get their jobs by approval from both the President and the Senate. Bucky: Yeesh. No wonder you’re stressed. Any good news? Steve: Well, thanks the Biden and the razor-thin Senate majority, the newer bills don’t rely on the Chevron deference. Still not great but not catastrophic. Sam, squirting ketchup on his hot dog: So what I’m hearing is that it’s now more important than ever to have a President and a Senate who you can trust to appoint fair judges, pass bills, and not commit crimes.

Page 5: Steve: Plus all of the state level offices, now that more and more deciding power has been thrown back to the states — abortion, LGBTQ rights, voting access… Bucky: Hey, at least this is a big election year so we can actually do something! Steve, with his arms crossed, looking surly: Except that all people want to talk about is how Biden is “too old” and “not doing enough,” as if that is on par with Trump’s desire to dismantle basic rights! As if the candidate who doesn’t embody ALL their ideals is not worth voting for! Bucky interrupts with a smart and a loud “PFFT.”

Page 6: Bucky: Um, Steve. YOU were like that in 1940. Sam, nudging Bucky: “Oh, this I gotta hear. Spill, Barnes.” In sepia, Steve is pacing around their apartment while Bucky is sitting and reading a newspaper. Steve: I can’t believe he’s running for a 3rd term! we need a fresh candidate to vote for! This is hardly a choice at all! AND he refuses to engage in Europe! All of Europe under fascist control and we’re just twiddling our thumbs? He’s letting millions die through his inaction! Bucky: Most people don’t want another war, Steve. If he came out for it, he would lose. Steve, indignant: But Buck, it’s your Polish relative who are in danger! Bucky, closing his newspaper and looking at Steve: Yeah, and between FDR and Willkes, I trust FDR to help if he could.

Page 7: Steve, in sepia, looking away: Should he be encouraged to do more? Maybe I should vote for Browder. The Communists have historically be Anti-Fascist.

Sam interrupts off-screen: Waitaminute! STEVE was going to PROTEST-VOTE? Steve: We were in a Blue State, Sam! Sam: But what about the down ballot races?! Steve: RELAX, I did my due diligence down-ballot. I wanted a senate that’s more progressive than the President.Voted LaGuardia for Mayor, too. Steve hesitates: Then, when I got to the President… I realized that the Best case scenario would be that my vote did nothing, versus if it actually spoiled the election. And when I asked myself who I could trust to work with my Senator… well, FDR had a good record with Labor. (sepia shot of young Steve voting) Bucky interrupts: Hold on, Steve.

Page 8: Bucky, eating a cookie, arching an eyebrow: You didn’t vote for Browder? Why didn’t you tell me? Steve: And have you say “I told you so” for the next century? Bucky: Heh.

Steve, with hand on his chin: What’s weird was that, despite everything, I still felt HORRIBLE when I ticked that box. Sam: Sounds like you built up the meaning of that vote far too much in your head. Logically, we know that a single box can’t represent all of the complexity of a whole system, but the desperately WANT it to. Just look at how people have built up so much around the term “Zionis” that it’s made productive conversations difficult.

Page 9: Sam and Steve speak in the background while Bucky reaches into the cooler and pulls out a box. Steve: Sigh. And that’s something that goes beyond the election. Sam: Which is why we need to vote, AND do other things. Bucky, looking at Steve and Sam: Like how Steve works to push organizations on the local level? Or like all the work you do as Captain America? Sam: Exactly. Vote AND.

Sam looks at Bucky fondly: Like how you vote AND make me and Steve take breaks. Bucky, looking stern because he can’t handle compliments: Shush, Sam.

Bucky holds up a cake that has the number “107” on it: It’s time for cake. Happy Birthday, Steve.

[talesofesther]

ten reasons not to kiss her

➥ Ch four: The fourth reason

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: Natasha slowly adapts to a life by your side, all the while thinking of all the reasons why she shouldn't kiss you.

A/N: A very fluffy lil chapter. <3

Masterlist | Previous chapter

It was a little past 9 a.m. when you knocked on Natasha's door the very next day. The familiar smile on your lips made Natasha's heart swell. She was half expecting you to be holding a plate of cookies again, but your request had been a most unexpected one.

The local animal shelter was organizing an adoption fair. With no further explanation, you wanted to adopt a dog, and wanted Natasha to accompany you.

Her mouth hovered open in surprise. Natasha had been requested for many kinds of tasks; infiltration, undercover work, stealing information, assassination. She had never been requested for something like this; it was novel. The fact that you still wanted her presence beside you made Natasha's stomach flutter pleasantly. She felt privileged.

You had sunglasses atop your head, and a light blue, comfy dress hugged your body perfectly. Natasha fidgeted with her fingers, one corner of her lips raised the tiniest bit against her own volition at the sight of you. Unabashedly, her eyes drifted lower on your face.

She recovered quickly, though, only stepping inside her apartment to grab her aviator sunglasses and boots before following you outside.

Natasha walked beside you on the street with the giddiness of a teenager on their first date. She couldn't wipe the small smile off her face, and her voice had a lingering tenderness to it; Russian accent bleeding heavier into the syllables. If her team saw her now, there would be endless teasing.

The sun shone brightly in the sky, but a pleasant wind ruffled the green leaves of the many trees in the park. In a large field of grass, people gathered. The atmosphere was welcoming; children ran around, and dogs barked as they followed them. Along with it were several round fenced areas for the animals available for adoption.

Natasha thought of how many first experiences she had shared with you already. It felt special, accidentally intimate.

"It'll be so hard to choose," you spoke, emotion dripping from each word as you covered your mouth with one hand at the sight of so many dogs looking for a new home. Sometimes Natasha wondered how you kept your heart if you always wore it on your sleeve.

Grass crunched beneath her boots. With each step, Natasha's hand brushed against yours as an excuse to touch you. You didn't seem to mind. You leaned closer to her, too.

She couldn't help but observe how the shadows of leaves cast over you, allowing for only your lips and right cheek to be kissed by the sun. Adjusting her sunglasses atop her nose, Natasha envied the bright star in the sky.

"You'll know it when you see the one." Being hopeful came easily when she stood beside you.

And you did know. The black dog had been the only one left from his group. He had tousled fur and one floppy ear. He wasn't small, and when you made a beeline for him, Natasha wondered how he'd be a good fit for your apartment.

She followed after you regardless, never straying far. Being with you was easily the most important task she'd been called for.

You promptly kneeled on the grass, uncaring if it stuck to your knees or stained your dress. You cupped the pup's face, and he loved you just the same as he leaned over to lick your cheek.

Giggles fell past your lips, your eyes closing and crinkling on the sides because of your smile. Natasha wished she could keep the sound of your laughter like fireflies in a jar.

She kneeled beside you, pushing her sunglasses up too. Her hand reached for the dog, caressing gently as her own smile stretched her lips. In between black fur, Natasha's hand found yours; she held her breath to find the courage not to pull away.

"It's him." You turned to Natasha, smile now directed at her. It came as a surprise when you grasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I can feel it."

Natasha found herself incapable of looking away from your eyes. The golden sun reflected against your pupils and shaped the outlines of your face. You belonged in a museum, and she was merely there to gaze. Her heart beat to the rhythm of your name; a dangerous thing, to want so badly what you shouldn't have.

It was the fourth reason why she shouldn't be thinking about leaning in to capture your lips with hers.

"He is lucky," she told you, nothing but a breath falling past her lips. Natasha realized then that the black dog wouldn't be the first stray that you rescued.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter

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Thank you for reading this chapter. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

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[silksandcravats]

Hitting the books - Dean x Reader

When it comes to research duties, you and Dean are equally (ir)responsible. Contents: Dean x fem!reader, piv sex, poor sammy hearing more than he would like, slight dom!dean x sub!reader undertones, reader and dean having zero self restraint

In Sam's opinion, the two of you shouldn't have been allowed to do the research in the first place. The case had dragged along longer than expected, you'd misidentified the creature tormenting the town, and now more fieldwork and research were required.

When Dean proposed that he return to the motel with you while Sammy poked around and interviewed a few more locals, he'd been met with one hell of an eye roll. You thought it was a great idea, Sam, not so much. Probably because he knew you'd end up in this exact position.

True, Dean was at the motel desk, and there was an old lore book cracked open on the table, but it was hard to read with your naked body bent directly over it.

Not to mention your warm, perfect little cunt swallowing him whole, little whines and pants slipping from your mouth as your hips tried to push back to meet his thrusts. Somehow, his tip seemed to be knocking deeper in you with each thrust, brushing against your cervix.

Fatigue and want battled for control of your body, the muscles in your thighs burned, your hips were bruising from slamming against the edge of the desk, and your pelvis ached from where it met his again and again, but it just felt so damn good.

Your forehead dropped against the cool wood of the desk, and you panted, gripping tightly to the edge the way he’d told you to when he first bent you over the surface.

You felt him shift, leaning over you, his hard, solid front pressing against your back. He left a line of sloppy, open mouth kisses along your shoulder before he spoke.

"You gonna touch that pretty little clit or should I?" He murmured, turning to nose against your temple.

"No, too much," you shook your head against the table. He tsked in disagreement.

You were already completely consumed by the feeling of him fucking you, the desk had you at the perfect angle, allowing him to rock even deeper into you than normal. The pleasure of it all was plenty, you didn’t need anything else, couldn’t take anything else.

But he didn’t seem to think so as hand slipped between your bodies. There was barely enough room for his fingers to brush against your swollen bundle of nerves, but Dean had a talent when it came to touching.

You gasped at the contact, you would've launched yourself forward if there was anywhere at all for you to go.

"Getting ready to come for me now, aren't you?"

You didn't have to see his face to know he was grinning, you were giving him the perfect view and he was absolutely eating up how you were crumbling beneath him.

"Mhmm," was all the response you could manage, practically cockdrunk.

Suddenly, his phone on the desk buzzed, both your heads snapping toward the interruption. Dean's hand left your waist, slowing his thrusts as he reached for the offending distraction.

He swore as he recognized the caller ID, looking around the room quickly.

Conveniently, his boxers had ended up on the desk. He grabbed them, balled them up loosely, and shoved them between your slightly parted lips before you could even register what was happening.

You made a noise of protest against the fabric, eyes wide.

Before you could try to spit the makeshift gag out, his hand clamped over your mouth firmly.

“That comes out you’ll be sorry.”

It was ridiculous if you asked him. You'd greedily take his whole cock in your mouth any time of day without complaint, but the fabric that it touched was where you drew the line?

"Not a damn sound, understand?" He warned, moving his hand away slowly.

You made another muffled noise of dissatisfaction but nodded as he flipped open the phone and pressed it to his ear.

"Hey Sammy, what'd you find?" His voice suddenly perfectly casual as he answered the phone.

He cocked his shoulder upward, allowing him to hold the device secured between his ear and his shoulder. With both hands now free, he grasped your hips, pulling you back from the desk slightly before resuming his previous pace, rocking into you again without warning.

You squeaked loudly against the fabric, earning a rough pinch to the side of your thigh in reprimand.

"Uh-huh, right, " he answered, carrying on a full-blown conversation as he continued to fuck you against the desk.

One part of you felt mortified about how much more aroused the current circumstances were making you feel. Dean speaking so casually with his brother, who had no idea you were getting fucked right below him. It was fucking hot.

Another part of you felt it was unfair that you were practically falling apart while he remained calm and collected.

Deciding to play dirty, you grinded back against him, trying to take charge of the speed. However, this was easily thwarted as his grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging harshly into your skin and stalling your movements.

You pressed yourself up slightly, turning to look back at him innocently, batting your lashes. He shot you a hard glare, shaking his head at you in response.

Not willing to give up, you changed tactics, waiting until he was fully sheathed inside you, then clenching tightly around him.

"Shit," he hissed directly into the phone, unable to stop himself. He grasped the back of your neck, shoving your face down against the wood in response.

His voice was almost even when he spoke again, giving some half-ass excuse to his brother as he began pistoning in and out of you faster.

You let out a broken moan, struggling to adjust to his quickened pace.

The desk was creaking beneath you with every thrust now. You squirmed slightly, you weren't even touching yourself, but you didn't have to, you were going to come just like this.

Dean, who knew you body better than anyone, could tell you were close, and just when you thought he couldn't possibly fuck you any deeper he lifted your hips slightly, dragging you up to your tiptoes so he had you at just the right angle.

From the new position he could knock just the right spot inside of you, hitting so deep you could practically feel him in your throat.

Moments later you were coming, the balled up boxers you were now basically drooling around doing a terrible job of muting your screams of bliss.

As your orgasm finished rolling through you, he lowered you down, allowing your feet to rest flat on the floor again, his thrusts slowed but didn't stop. Your head was already feeling hazy, but you knew that wouldn't be your last orgasm of the night.

What you didn't hear above you was Sam's tired voice scoff into the phone.

"Dude, next time you're fucking your girlfriend just don't answer, I can hear everything,"

Dean offered some insincere apology in response before ending the call quickly and tossing his phone back on the desk. He grasped the back of your hair and pulled you to stand against him.

"Well, I hope you're happy sweetheart, you traumatized Sammy."

[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

I Post once in a blue moon and get treated to scam bots

[nothorses]

"the public education system is intently evil and all teachers are abusive because it was the worst experience ever for me personally"

guys, look, I'm legitimately sorry that happened to you. that's fucked up. it shouldn't have happened, and it shouldn't be allowed to happen again to you or anyone else. I'm sorry.

public school was hard for me too, at times, and I'm still suffering the consequences for the harsh grading, the arbitrary deadlines, the hours of completely useless-to-me homework. I could name a few teachers who have been pretty fucking terrible. the fact that nobody considered getting me evaluated for ADHD has had an impact on my self image and academic success that I can't erase.

and also.

I grew up in an area where education, in particular, is incredibly progressive-leaning. educators are working really hard to create and try out education philosophies and practices that prioritize kids and their learning, rather than teachers and what they think kids should learn.

My sex ed was comprehensive, and came entirely from school. My gay sixth grade teacher taught me about HIV/AIDs in a useful, accurate way. In high school, I learned about the way orgasms work & I was prepared not to feel shame for normal stuff.

I learned that Communism was not what the USSR actually practiced, and what it really means. I learned about atrocities and, specifically, the genocide of indigenous people committed in/by the US. I learned about the military industrial complex, the school-to-prison pipeline, and I learned about manifestations of racism specific to my local area. I learned about Stonewall, and the intersection of the civil rights movement with gay rights and disability justice.

My creative writing teacher taught us about LSD, and the real reasons we shouldn't do it, after a hilariously ineffective assembly run by some local cops. He spoke gently, carefully, and emphatically about his friends and his own experiences. Later in the semester, he read us a story he wrote about two gay men finding each other in a deeply homophobic environment.

My sci-fi teacher made me feel safe & seen as a kid with "weird" interests. My US History teacher helped me research and put together a 10-page paper on the modern relevance and mission of Feminism. My government teacher made me feel appreciated for the work I put into the class, and the thought I put into what I said in it, even though he disagreed with a lot of it. My sixth grade teacher bought me books to read with his personal money, whichever ones I asked for. My third grade teacher made me feel safe. My science teacher in middle school made me excited for and passionate about science, and saw and nurtured the effort I put into her class.

A lot of stuff sucks, absolutely. But I am seeing new teaching methods being tried out all the time, and I am watching teachers get really excited when I teach their students about the roots of modern graffiti in US black history & to question property laws, and just...

There's hope. there are so many people doing so much work to make things better. so many people agree with you on what education should be, and are trying so fucking hard to put that into action, and so many public schools- not just teachers, but whole schools and even districts- are really doing that work. so much is getting better.

I had more to say, about necessary childcare and trusted adults and outside contacts and time away from abusive family. But like. Please just sit down and listen to more people on this, and please talk to educators and education professionals about what's really going on in this big huge world of philosophy, science, and practice.

[jacaerysgf]

SOAKED !

monsterfuckertober day 1

summary: you’ve fallen in love with your local merman but he hasn’t come to visit you in a few days. You think maybe he’s grown tired of you but it seems to be quite the opposite. and who knew mermen have mating seasons?

merman!jacaerys x fem!reader

w.c: 1.3k

c.w: mermaid sex. oral (fem), scales, webbed fingers, heat?, kinda girl perv reader, desperate jace, p in v, not proofread. basically just smut btw

monsterfuckertober masterlist

The sea has become a friend to you. With your head resting against the cold rock, you are out at the shining blue sea expectantly. waiting for him. the water crashes lightly against your bare skin the swimsuit you’re wear leads you to shiver every time theres a light breeze but you don't mind it as your hands shake, he should be here soon.

If someone had asked you a couple months ago if you had thought mermaids were real you would have laughed in there face but here you were. sitting on the wet sand waiting for your own merman to show up. not being a strong swimmer seems to have its pros, as after your family moved out to a beach side property you decided to late a late night dip, making sure not to go too deep but the waves were against you and you were pushed way too far in. he saved you from drowning, the cute brown haired boy with hazel eyes and a big smile.

He told you his name was jacaerys but to just call him jace. A strange name to you but it seems merpeople have a very different culture. Hes not supposed to make friends with humans but he claims he feels a ‘pull’ towards you and cant stay away, confused at the blush that grows on your face at his words.

You like him. A lot. far too much even. Far far too much your hands dip where they shouldn't when you think about him. How would it even work between you two? He certainly doesn't like you as you like him, hes just a friendly merman. His fingers are webbed would they feel strange,,, Does he even have a-

You shake your head quickly cutting off that train of thought as you feel a familiar ache build up in your stomach and you wiggle a little where you sit.

You feel yourself growing more hot and bothered maybe you should just leave. You dont even know if he’ll show he hasnt been here for the last three days. it wasnt like him to miss a meeting without warning, like when he went on that hunting trip with his friends but he made sure to warn you before hand he wouldn't be able to see you. You’ll never forget the sad pout on his face and how his webbed hand gripped your thigh in a parting goodbye before he left. your fingers definitely hurt that night.

maybe you made him up and he was just a figment of your imagination. should you schedule a doctors appointment? When another ten minutes go by and he still doesn't show up you let out a frustrated huff and stand up to leave. suddenly you hear rushing water and whip your head back to look at the familiar tail that peaks out from the water ever so slightly and your eyes widen.

When he appears his face is bright red, a heavy blush set on his face as he takes a deep breath of the air and he shudders. you sit on your knees in front of his as he keeps his eyes closed as if he was afraid to look at him, frowning when he flinched as you try and touch his face. “jace?”

in response he lays face first on your thighs and continues to take a deep breaths taking in your scent. You allow him too, knowing he’ll tell you what happened once he can but you can help but feel embarrassed when he seems like hes taking heavy sniffs of your pussy. you feel like you’re making it up, probably just too turned on but when he readjusts his head to be directly over the thin cloth and lets out a pleased noise along with another deep breath you realize you’re not making it up.

When you grab his face, his face contorts into embarrassment as he tried to pull away but you keep him firmly infront of you. “im sorry im sorry im not myself im so sorry.” You shush him, murmuring that its alright but its hard to take him seriously when it seems like hes even drooling but its hard to tell as he always looks so wet.

His hand comes up to touch your thigh and your breath stalls. His eyes glow in the sun as he maintains his eye contact with you despite the clear red sheen of embarrassment and desire on his face. “im sorry i have not seen you. ive been trying to stay away so this wouldn't happen im so stupid. im sorry.” Hes not telling you something you can tell, he looks down at your lap at you awaiting stare. “it is mating season. And,,, i crave you. i did not want to see you i knew i would act out of line. Forgive me but i rushed over because i could smell you in the air. your scent,” he paused as he takes another deep breath. “i need you.”

He leans heavily into your palm. Pressing a light kiss against your skin, when you don’t answer he continues to pepper your wrist with kisses. The only thing you can think about right now is him. His pupils are blown out, his skin down to his neck is red with a flustered glow, his lips plump eager for you to lay yours on them. “are you sure?” he eager nods at your words, eagerly scooting closer to you the best of his ability, his tail eagerly flapping in the water.

He’s eager to press himself against you when you press your lips against his. Grabbing your hips and dragging you closer to the water so he can scoot closer to the water and press his head comfortably between your thighs. He eagerly licks at you through the think fabric of your bottoms, putting the fabric in his mouth and tightly sucking on it, attempting to drink out every drop he can get. His hands claw at your hips you can feel the scales on his palm rub against your bare hips as they drag down the fabric, he lets out a light groan before he tears at the fabric and dives in.

Your hands get lost in his curls while he eagerly laps at your essence. Its hard to hear the sound of him slurping at your walls over the sounds of the crashing waves but what you can hear and feel his him groaning and moaning against you sending shivers of pleasure up your spine.

The grip he has on your thighs is sure to leave a couple bruises but you cant seem to care as he simply continues to open you up wider and drinks up every drop you push out. You must orgasm atleast two or even three times before he finally pulls away from you and drags you further into the way. You’re as far out as you can go in the water while still laying down and he presses himself fully ontop of you. his scales rub against your skin and he eagerly rips at the fabric of your too, wrapping his lios eagerly around your nipples.

Your legs wrap around his waist as your bare dripping cunt rubs against his course scales and he whines in delight. you can feel his scales part and his dick is suddenly rubbing against your folds. its heavy and it throbs against as if it had been waiting for you eagerly. he shoved his lips against you as he slides into you, the stretch burns as hes far bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with but once you settle into it *you’re see stars.*

His lips eagerly dance all over your neck and jaw as your head is thrown back in pleasure, breathy sounds escaping you as you try your best to not be too loud, hips rocking together just as the waves are crashing against the shore.

you hope theres no other creature out there in the big wide ocean because they would certainly be getting a show as you’re laying by the show singing until sundown. or maybe you do.

[anjelicawrites]

More on teddy bear boyfriend!König

Boyfriend!König whose mother has always been into the hippy movement and named him some very niche new age name.

Boyfriend!König who has new age related tattoos on his body and is your crystal obsessed girlfriend.

Boyfriend!König who hides lucky gemstones in every piece of clothing and bag you own. You don't believe in this stuff but he looks a lot less stressed when he knows you're protected this way, and it costs you nothing to make him happy.

Boyfriend!König who, surprisingly, can manage his social anxiety when you two are out shopping, because he focuses more on being your bag bearer, than on the stares of the people around you two.

Boyfriend!König who is worse than you are in a bookshop: you two shouldn't be buying anything, you two come out with ten books each.

Boyfriend!König who introduces you to the idea of "Tsundoku" whenever you feel bad about all the books you own and have yet to read.

Boyfriend!König who went through a massive growth spurt when he was a young boy and now has stretch marks everywhere and was mercilessly bullied for it.

Boyfriend!König who was so anxious to show you his naked body, thinking it too ugly thanks to all the freckles, scars and stretch marks.

Boyfriend!König who was in tears after you had worshiped his body for hours, focusing on everything he thought you would despise.

Boyfriend!König who needed a long time before he allowed you to look at his face, always wearing surgical masks and asking you to keep your eyes closed whenever you two kissed. He was violently bullied for his big nose, now broken too many times to be anything but a mangled piece of cartilage.

Boyfriend!König who is still thanking all the deities he knows, after you told him you love his nose: it gives his whole face character, and we all know what is said about guys with big noses.

Boyfriend!König who is so fair skinned he burns despite the sunscreen and the heavy gear he wears at work. He's resigned to return home to you with flakes of dead skin peeling from his body and in dire need of your help to rescue the situation.

Boyfriend!König who, despite your size, weight, height and general body type, calls you "Mein(e) kleinester Liebe" (my littlest love).

Boyfriend!König who has the ring ready: it was his grandma's, he had it customised so that his and yours birth stones sit one next to the other. He keeps it hidden in the safety deposit box of your local bank; he's going to ask you to marry him after his next job, he can't wait to show you his Pinterest board for your wedding.

[castielscaplan]

The Secret Baby Bump (2/2)

Summary: you didnt think the angel would find ut why you’d left the bunker many months ago

Warnings: pregnancy, hostile castiel

Pairing: female reader x Castiel

Read on ao3!

A/N: i was never going to write a part two of this fic, honestly, i wasn't. but someone must have reblogged it at one point and people have been asking for a part two...so viola!

Read Part One Here!

--

You nodded, a broken little thing, so eager to believe him, to believe that after everything, he would still want you. That he still saw you as part of his family. Your hand trembled as it rested over the swell of your stomach, feeling the child shift inside, as if responding to Castiel’s voice.

He rose slowly from the booth, his trench coat shifting around him like the wings he no longer bore. For a moment, Castiel just stood there, looking at you — no longer with anger, but something far deeper, a heaviness in his gaze that made your chest ache.

Without a word, he shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. The weight of it, the familiar scent of rain and earth and something wholly him, made your knees weak. You swallowed hard, blinking fast.

"Come on," he murmured, hand ghosting over your lower back as he gently steered you toward the door. "You shouldn't be here."

You glanced back over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Dean storming in through the bar doors, rage in his eyes, or Sam pulling him back by the arm. But the bar just buzzed on, oblivious to the world tilting beneath your feet.

Outside, the air was cool and damp. The streetlights flickered in puddles on the pavement. You shivered, pulling Castiel’s coat tighter around your body, and he noticed — because of course he did.

He stopped you by his car, a beat-up thing he must've borrowed from someone local, and turned to face you fully. His hands lifted, hovering just shy of touching your face, as if he didn’t know if he was allowed.

"I was so angry at you," he confessed, voice low, almost raw. "When I found the letter, I thought..." He swallowed hard. "I thought I’d failed you. That after everything — after Jack — I had become too broken to be loved."

Your heart cracked clean in half at the broken way he said it.

"No, Cas," you breathed, stepping into the space between you. "I left because I loved you too much to ask you to go through it again. I couldn’t lose you too."

A single beat passed between you. Then two.

His hand, steady now, came up to cup your cheek. You leaned into the touch without thinking, like a flower to the sun. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, tender.

"You were never going to lose me," he whispered.

The streetlight above you buzzed, throwing golden light over his messy hair, the tired lines carved deep into his beautiful face. You realized in that moment just how much he had grieved — not just Jack, but you. You saw it now, all of it, in the way he touched you like you might vanish if he blinked too long.

"Come home, Y/N," he said again, firmer now, more sure of himself. "Let me take care of you both."

Tears burned your throat as you nodded again, more desperate this time. Castiel smiled, so faint you almost missed it, and leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. A quiet promise passed between you in the small space left.

He kissed you then — slow, reverent, a kiss that tasted of regret and forgiveness and the kind of love that survives even the worst of storms. You clutched the front of his shirt, grounding yourself against him, the life growing inside you fluttering like a second heartbeat between you both.

When he finally pulled back, he opened the car door for you, ever the gentleman. You slid inside, heart pounding wildly in your chest. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, Castiel spared you one more look — a look that said you were his home as much as he was yours.

The engine rumbled to life, and you let yourself believe, just for tonight, that maybe — just maybe — you could have a future after all.

Together.

---

The drive back to the bunker was mostly silent. Castiel's hand rested on the gear shift, close enough that your fingers brushed his knuckles every so often. Neither of you spoke much, but it wasn’t the brittle silence from before — this was something softer. Fragile, yes. But healing.

You stared out the window, the dark Kansas night racing past, heart hammering faster the closer you got.

You could only imagine how Dean would react. His anger when you left had been explosive — understandable, but terrifying. And Sam... Sam, who had always been the softer one, the voice of reason between his brother and the world, even he had seemed betrayed by your sudden disappearance.

When Castiel finally pulled into the garage, your breath caught. The familiar concrete walls loomed in the headlights, the iron door standing like a sentinel between you and whatever reckoning waited inside.

"Are you ready?" Castiel asked quietly, killing the engine.

You nodded, lying through your teeth.

He came around to open your door. His hand lingered at the small of your back as you walked through the garage entrance together. The hallway was blessedly empty, the only sounds your own uneven breathing and Castiel’s measured footsteps.

The low rumble of voices echoed from the war room. You could hear Dean’s gravelly bark and Sam’s quieter, steadier tone. Probably arguing over some hunt.

The moment you and Castiel stepped into view, the conversation died.

Dean was the first to turn. His green eyes widened — a mix of shock and immediate fury flashing across his face like a lightning strike.

Sam, standing by the map table with a tablet in his hand, blinked once, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His mouth opened — then closed.

The room was so silent you could hear the hum of the old fluorescent lights above you.

"You’ve gotta be kidding me," Dean said first, voice low and dangerous.

You flinched without meaning to, but Castiel subtly shifted closer, as if shielding you with his body.

Dean’s fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight. "What the hell is she doing here, Cas? After the way she left—after she—"

"Dean," Castiel said, tone brokering no argument. "Enough."

Sam stepped forward, frowning, his sharp eyes catching the way Castiel stood protectively near you... and then dropping lower, to the way your coat hung strangely around your body, the visible curve beneath.

Realization dawned on him like a slow sunrise.

"Y/N..." Sam said slowly, voice full of something complicated — something that hurt. "You’re pregnant."

Dean’s face twisted in confusion, then sudden understanding. His eyes locked onto yours, the betrayal there so thick it made your knees threaten to give out.

"You left because you’re pregnant?" Dean barked, stepping forward. Castiel tensed instantly, but you lifted a hand — not to stop Dean, but to steady yourself.

"I wasn’t thinking clearly," you said, your voice shaking. "I was scared. After everything we lost... after Jack... I didn’t think it was fair to ask anyone to go through that again."

"You should’ve told us!" Dean snapped, looking like he might punch a wall — or Castiel — or himself. "You think we wouldn’t have—?! Damn it, Y/N!"

Sam’s hand closed around Dean’s shoulder, pulling him back gently. “Dean. Look at her.”

Dean struggled against it for a second. But he did look — and the anger slowly drained from his face, replaced by something much more painful: sadness. Hurt. Wounded loyalty.

"You’re family," Sam said quietly, his words meant for both you and Dean. "You always were. You still are."

Tears stung your eyes, but you forced yourself to hold Dean’s gaze.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, voice cracking. "I thought I was protecting you. Protecting him." You touched your stomach without thinking.

Dean looked away for a long moment, jaw working, nostrils flaring. When he finally spoke again, his voice was rough, like sandpaper.

"You’re a damn idiot," he muttered. But there was no real heat in it anymore. Just grief.

He raked a hand through his hair and blew out a breath so hard his chest heaved.

"Next time you think running away is the answer," Dean said, stepping closer — and to your utter shock, pulling you into a rough, warm hug, "remember you’re not alone, alright?"

The tears you’d been holding back broke free all at once. You clung to him, breathing him in — leather and whiskey and gunpowder and home.

When Dean let you go, Sam was there, pulling you into a gentler hug.

"We missed you," he murmured against your hair. "We’ll figure this out. Together."

Castiel stood nearby, silent but watchful, his eyes full of something almost like awe. As if he couldn’t quite believe this small miracle was unfolding in front of him.

When Sam finally pulled away, Dean clapped Castiel hard on the shoulder.

"You better take care of them," Dean said gruffly. "Or you’ll answer to me."

Castiel only nodded, solemn. "I intend to."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe it.

Maybe family wasn't about doing everything right. Maybe it was about who was still standing beside you after everything went wrong.

And standing here — wrapped in their forgiveness, their fierce love — you realized you hadn't lost your family at all.

You’d only ever been trying to protect it.

--

Life at the bunker had shifted in small, wonderful ways.

Your days weren’t filled with constant hunts and near-death scrambles anymore. Oh, there were still cases — but lately, they were more selective. Sam and Dean both had started taking turns covering for you and Castiel, throwing out phrases like "You need to rest" and "Doctor’s orders" even though the bunker had no on-call medical staff (unless you counted Dean’s dramatic first-aid skills and Sam’s endless stack of outdated anatomy books).

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch in the library now, wearing one of Dean’s ridiculously oversized flannels, a fuzzy blanket around your shoulders, and a heavy book resting on the swell of your stomach. The baby kicked occasionally, little thuds that made you giggle softly each time.

Dean passed by with a plate in his hand — a sandwich piled so high it looked structurally unsound — and slowed when he saw you.

"You need anything?" he asked gruffly, like he wasn’t already carrying a second plate balanced awkwardly on top of his own.

You smiled. "I'm good. Thanks, Dean."

He lingered another second before dropping the extra plate next to you anyway. "Eat. For the kid. Cas says you’re not eating enough."

You laughed quietly. "Cas says that about everything."

Dean smirked. "Yeah, well. Better safe than sorry." His voice went soft in a way it rarely did. "Kid’s gotta come out healthy and ready to kick ass."

At that moment, Sam came into the room, arms full of... baby books. Stack after stack of them. Parenting manuals. Medical journals. How to Swaddle a Baby Without Losing Your Mind.

Dean groaned so loud it echoed. "Sammy, seriously? She’s already got Cas breathing down her neck. You’re gonna scare her into early labor."

Sam ignored him. "Knowledge is power," he said, pushing a pair of reading glasses up the bridge of his nose like the world’s most determined college professor. "You want to be prepared."

"I’ve been prepared," Dean argued, mouth full of sandwich. "Step one: Don't drop it. Step two: Feed it. Step three: Love the hell outta it. Boom. Parenting."

You bit your lip to hide your smile.

Sam set a particularly thick book — What to Expect When You're Expecting a Half-Angel (okay, maybe he made that cover himself) — on the coffee table with a thunk.

"We don’t even know how angel biology works with humans," Sam said, deadly serious. "For all we know, that baby could start glowing, or levitating."

Dean waggled his eyebrows at you. "Sweet. We’ll have a nightlight."

You burst out laughing, a hand on your belly. The baby seemed to approve, giving a happy kick against your ribs.

Castiel wandered in a second later, his trench coat gone, sleeves rolled up, looking more domestic than you ever thought possible. He immediately zeroed in on you, crossing the room with quiet purpose.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked, voice low and earnest. "Dean didn’t overwhelm you, did he?"

Dean threw a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Me? Overwhelm?"

Cas didn't even blink. "Yes."

You shook your head, still smiling. "I’m fine, Cas. Promise."

Satisfied, he perched on the edge of the couch beside you, hand automatically resting on your stomach — protective, tender, like he couldn’t not touch you now.

Sam crouched by the coffee table, flipping open one of his books. "We should start discussing names soon," he said. "You know, before the baby gets here."

Dean plopped onto the armchair, grinning. "I vote for Dean Jr."

Sam rolled his eyes. "It’s not your baby."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, but I’m gonna be the cool uncle."

Sam snorted. "You’re gonna teach him how to hotwire a car before he learns how to walk."

Dean lifted his beer. "You’re damn right I am."

Castiel gave them both a look like a very tired kindergarten teacher.

You reached out, curling your fingers through Cas’s.

"How about we pick names that don’t inspire petty fights?" you suggested gently, voice full of fondness.

Sam, flipping through a page, muttered, "That’s wishful thinking."

Dean just leaned back, kicked his feet up on the coffee table (earning a deadly glare from Cas), and grinned at you.

"Doesn’t matter what name you pick," he said. "That kid’s gonna have three badass uncles who’d burn the world down for him."

You blinked hard against the sudden sting in your eyes.

Castiel squeezed your hand. Sam offered a small, warm smile over his book. Dean just watched you, easy and certain, like he’d always be right here.

Home wasn’t a place.

It was this.

This ragtag, broken, beautiful family you’d built together. And for the first time in a long, long time, you knew in your bones: You weren’t alone anymore. You never would be again.