#down right intolerable whenever she has to see him

[mikodrawnnarratives]

I want to see Maggie without her bullet for a long period of time. I wanna see how it goes whether she freaks out, lashes out at everyone, and/or has a complete meltdown. Then I want to see everyone else's responses and the ppl that care Abt her helping her out while she is Not Okay TM and then they find out the significance of the bullet to her and give their sympathies and Maggie can't really bat them away like she normally would since being without her lucky silver bullet is nerve wrecking because who is she without that bullet she's alive because of it-

So what if Callum learned abt the bullet b4 anyone else

[lunarmoonanons]

Wilted Rose

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Can you please write an angst fic where Maegor and his Tyrell wife’s youngest son is revealed to be allergic to the flowers in his mother’s garden so Maegor has all the flowers removed?

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Sequel to Dragon's Rose

Masterlist

It was widely debated on whether or not Maegor loved his children. He had a fondness for his girls and was proud of his sons. Having nine children made it difficult to zero in on that integral feeling of love. For he was still strict with all his children. People agreed that he loved his Tyrell wife, but many said that only happened after she gave him children. He was strict with her as well. 

YN loved her children, even though every time she looked at her sons she always saw Maegor’s face. She would spend a lot of time with her children. Her favorite time’s with her children were in the gardens that hosted her favorite flowers. Even though she was a Tyrell, her favorite flowers were lilies. She had her own path of lilies back at highgarden, and in an attempt to keep his wife happy Maegor had her favorite flower littered around the gardens of the Red Keep. 

YN started to notice something wrong with her youngest son, Laenyx. The four year old loved spending time with his mother, and since he was the youngest son he was allowed to be coddled and babied. So whenever she was in the garden, the little boy was right behind her. Holding her skirts and smelling the flowers with his mother. Though lately when he would smell the lilies with his mother he would sneeze and cough violently. His skin would turn red and patchy, becoming unbearably itchy. Eventually YN couldn’t bear seeing her son suffer when in the garden, so she reluctantly removed herself from the garden. 

It was widely noticed at the dower mood of the queen. How depressed she became at the loss of her precious outdoor time. YN felt like a bot of her soul was gone at the fact her body was trapped in the red keep she hated so much. Eventually Maegor grew to notice his wife’s depressed mood. Normally he would let her be, and attend to his other wives. But YN was his favorite wife. His successful and loving bride. So he resolved himself to fix her sour mood. 

“There’s no need to stand.” Maegor said as he entered his wife’s room. She was sitting by the fire, reading a book. 

“What can I do for you husband?” YN asked, placing her book down and tried to wrap her robe around her body as a weak attempt to hide herself from him. 

“I would ask what I can do for you, dear love.” He knelt in front of her and took her small hand into his. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I’m perfectly happy.” YN tried to assure him. 

“Now I am not stupid, YN. I am observant and I’ve seen your unhappiness, the whole of the Keep has.” Maegor began to rub his thumb over her knuckles. “Now tell me what is wrong.”

YN looked away and bit her lip. Trying to navigate what she wanted to say without having him feel the need to impose himself in her life further. “I’ve just.. missed the garden these past days. That’s all.”

“Then why do you deprive yourself of them? I’ve not made it impossible to see them.” 

“I Know. I know. But it’s the lilies.” YN looked at her husband who nodded at her to explain. “Laenyx is intolerable of them. The maester says his body cannot tolerate the pollen and fragrance they give off. And he spends all his time that he can with me. So I can’t have him suffer just because I want a walk in the garden.”

“I see.” Maegor stood up.

“I didn’t mean to keep this from you!” YN hurriedly explained. “It just you have so much to deal with already and I spend all my time with the younger children anyways tha-”

“I will see what I can do.” Maegor interrupted. 

“But… there's nothing to do. It's just the body’s nature sometimes to reject certain plants. I don’t think you can do anything for me.” YN stood up. 

Maegor held her face in his hands and placed a kiss on her forehead. “YN. You are my wife. You have given me nine children. If I fail you now then I am a pathetic husband. You will have your walks in the garden.”

With that he left the room and YN collapsed to the floor, taking in deep breaths. Even after all this time, she still feared what Maegor would do. Especially in the name of love for her. 

Few days later, YN was in the children’s room playing with her youngest two. Laenyx and his sister Daela jumped around their mother as she smiled and tickled them. Their time together was cut short by a guard coming into the room. 

“Excuse me, your majesty. But the king would like to see you and your children in the garden.” YN stood and picked up her little girl, holding her son’s small hand in her own. 

Once they made it to the garden. YN noticed the fragrance of lilies burnt wafted through the air. She looked around the garden and noticed her flowers were gone. A fire just outside the garden caught her attention, making her unable to notice Tyanna coming up behind her. 

“Maegor has done a great service for you, little rose.” Tyanna whispered in her ear, making YN jump. 

“What do you mean?” YN held her children closer. 

“Here he comes now. Ask about the flowers.” With that the strange woman slinked away. 

YN looked around and saw no lilies, She saw roses, daisies, and many more. But none of her dear lilies. Maegor came to her and kissed her forehead. YN swallowed her sadness and looked up at him. 

“I have given you a new garden.”

“Where are my lilies?” YN asked.

“I had them burned. Now there is nothing to stop you from spending time with our children in the garden.” Maegor stated as though he did her a great favor. “Now you shall be happy in the garden, with all these new flowers. Isn’t that wonderful?”

YN blinked away her tears quickly before Maegor could see her sad expression. She plastered on a pleasant smile and gave Maegor a kiss. “It is a lovely gesture. Isn’t that right Laenyx? Thank your father.”

Laenyx nodded and gave his father a hug. YN continued to smile the rest of the day, never letting anyone see her crumbling soul. Her lips remained stretched until she made her way to her bed. She sat on the edge and placed a pillow over her face, gripping it tightly as she muffled her scream against the fabric. The scream turned into a sob and she held the pillow close to her face until she was all cried out. Those lilies were her own little escape from Maegor. And like her family, he took them away as well. It felt like every little thing that was hers was slowly slipping away from her grasp. She wondered when he would take her children from her. Her little lilies.

[k-s-morgan]

And the Living Will Envy the Dead: Snippet

This is a snippet from another scene taking place in the distant future from Tom's POV. And it's surprisingly fluffy))

---

Impatience wrapped around his throat like an unyielding noose. At first, Tom kept adjusting his collar, wondering if Rosalia misstepped this time and selected something of the wrong size. As far as the design, the colours, and the material were concerned, however, this outfit was a favourite, and wearing anything else was out of question when Harry was supposed to return at last.

Three months, and not even in Britain — in Germany. Unacceptably, intolerably far.

If it wasn’t for Harry’s ridiculous rule of no contact during recruitment, their separation wouldn’t have to be this lengthy. Tom had agreed to it as a display of courtesy, but after the endless bleakness of the last twelve weeks, things would have to change. Principles meant nothing when they caused more inconveniences than they brought benefits.     

The loosening of the collar did not bring the anticipated relief, so eventually, Tom was forced to concur that the problem had taken root in his head. And the name of this problem had five misleadingly insignificant letters in it.

Irritation began to sizzle, making it impossible for him to keep sitting. Tom stood up and checked the clock; then he conjured the time by himself, harbouring the irrational hope that his clock was broken. The smoky numbers remained unchanged, and he waved them away, his jaw tightening with annoyance.

Harry was supposed to be here ninety-three minutes ago. How long could it take someone to Apparate, even if they were abysmal at it?  

Waiting was all he could do. His mind understood it, and just as equally, it rejected it. Measuring his reflection with one final look, Tom left the room and walked downstairs, to the headquarters. Rosalia, Cadmus, and Augustus were inside, locked into a conversation he had no interest in, at least not at the moment.

“Is he back yet?” Tom asked, ignoring the way the three of them instantly stood up. It was an entirely redundant question — if Harry returned, he would have never set foot inside Tom’s headquarters. Another rule that made no sense, but then Harry frequently didn’t. Still, he had to ask. To indulge the restless part of him that was willing to shred his skin and escape it to seek Harry out on its own.

A layered silence answered his inquiry. Tom’s eyes narrowed, and Cadmus hastened to clear his throat.

“He isn’t, my lord,” he uttered. “Not that we know of.”

“Inform me if you see him.”

He turned to leave, but in that very moment, Rosalia’s magic made a desperate lunge for him. It was harmless, just a greedy uncontrolled attempt to hold onto him, but Tom’s already dark mood plummeted further down. Disgust buzzed under his skin, and his magic rose up in one crushing wave, disintegrating Rosalia’s energy into the tiniest particles, rendering them even more useless.

A pained gasp broke the silence. Everyone else froze. Slowly, Tom turned to face them again, his stare stopping at Rosalia.

“And what was that supposed to be?” he asked. “Are you a dog in heat? Has the word ‘self-control’ escaped your dictionary entirely this time?”

Rosalia flushed. With her red face and blond curls, she reminded Tom of Harry’s revolting cousin, and his fingers itched with the need to invoke some graver magic.

“I— apologise,” she stammered. Her wavering voice made her sound like an even more pitiful version of herself, and Tom inhaled slowly, willing himself to be patient. Alienating Harry after their separation was not a good idea — although this was Rosalia, so perhaps Harry wouldn’t mind. “I just wanted to urge you to consider changing the entrance wards. It’s not right that he can walk inside whenever he feels like it. I know about your… arrangement… but there is no need to grant him free access. He could ask for permission when he wants to visit and we would—”

“He has my permission,” Tom interrupted her. The darkness of his voice instantly shut her up. “For today. For the next week. For a decade from now. He will never have to ask for it because he has it indefinitely. Is that clear enough to you?”

Rosalia nodded, dropping her head — alas, too late. Frustration that had been gnawing on Tom was beginning to zero in on her, blinding him to anything but the sudden craving for her screams. The cloud of violence descended, and this time, he didn’t want to fight it.

He needed a distraction. This one was as good as any.

The first vibrations of magic trembled through his body, filling his blood with power, power, more power — the power that would need an outlet. That would remind Rosalia of where her place was and what matters she was allowed to discuss — and which ones she should never open her mouth to comment on.    

His wand slipped into his hand, the power purring at the sight of horror that twisted Rosalia’s and Cadmus’ faces. Only Augustus remained impassive, although he lowered his eyes as well, his shoulders drooping submissively.    

A hundred different words danced on the tip of his tongue. The energy poured into every cell of his, bursting with the need to be directed, and Tom was about to oblige when a subtle breeze shot through the wards.

It could be nothing. It could be an actual breeze slipping through one of the open windows, but he knew, he knew there was more to it.

Harry was back.

A shudder of want thundered through him. Excitement and anticipation pushed out every previous emotion from his mind, and it took an impossible effort to keep himself still instead of Apparating in the direction from which he sensed Harry’s presence.

“Augustus,” he barked, “remind Rosalia of the scope of her responsibilities. After your lesson, I expect that she will keep her mouth shut on the matters that don’t concern her.”

From the corner of his eye, he noticed reluctance sliding over Augustus’ face. This was surprising — Augustus had always been the most eager to punish the other followers, but right now, Tom didn’t have time to ponder on it. Without saying another word, he Apparated into his office, and his heart did its usual little stumbling when his eyes stopped at Harry.

Tom’s sudden appearance must have startled him because Harry jumped, dropping the metal statue of the snake he was holding. It landed on his foot, and he jumped again, this time looking even more alarmed.

How such a stunning duellist and a brilliant Quidditch player could be so clumsy was a mystery Tom hadn’t solved yet. Affection bloomed in his chest, a seed that instantly bore its fruits — a split of a second, and the fire of it consumed him entirely.       

“Hey,” Harry said, an awkward smile lighting up his face. “That’s one ugly snake. Where did you—”

Tom didn’t let him finish. He eliminated the grating distance between them in two large steps, grabbed Harry by his waist, and kissed him, swallowing the words that were about to be said, not allowing him a moment to draw in another breath. He kissed him, and his world exploded with the half-forgotten brightness again.  

[howaboutcastiel]

HowAboutCastiel's Fic Masterlist

I guess I’ve written enough fics that I kinda need to make one of these now 🤷‍♀️

Request Rules

Currently, I have fics published from the Moon Knight, Daredevil, Mandalorian, and Last of Us universes. Feel free to request beyond these fandoms, though <3

Star Wars

Din Djarin x Reader:

Out of This World (18+): You only get to see The Mandalorian when he comes to visit your cantina in Mos Espa. He seems to be finding more reasons to stop by.

The Apostate (18+): Din broke the creed. He removed his helmet and, as a result, opened himself up to possibilities he couldn’t have ever conceived of before. (Plus an expansion)

And Also With You (18+): As an ex-Jedi, you had found a good planet to hide on, and you were satisfied with the quiet. That was, until a mandalorian with a reputation wandered into your quaint little village.

Din Djarin x Cobb Vanth:

Find a New Way (18+): For the safety of his son, Din attempts to escape the cult he was raised in, with help from the sheriff of the next town over.

Moon Knight

Steven Grant x Reader:

All I Desire (18+): Reader has not been in a relationship in a while and is scared to have sex with Steven for the first time.

On My Command (18+): You want to wind down after a bad day at work, but Steven is over-eager as always.

Let Me Take It: (CW) You had a bad day that leads to a spiral. Steven tries to help you through it.

Set The Record Straight (18+): In the heat of an argument you imply that Steven is a pushover.

Helping You Through II

Hold Me Together: Hey! Could I make a request for one of the moon bois (your choice!) helping you out after you get home from a particularly rough therapy session?

The Tour Guide (18+): The reader has never been in a serious relationship, and now things are moving forward in her relationship with Steven.

From the Ground Up… Again (18+): After you were injured on a mission, Steven helps you get back on your feet with some tender love and care.

Marc Spector x Reader:

The Silver-Plated Moon: An overstimulating day away from your boys leads to a meltdown, causing you to accidentally break one of the most precious gifts you’ve ever received.

How Do I Ask? (18+): You loved the way that your boyfriend Marc made love to you. That being said, sometimes you longed for something… rougher.

Keep Me Warm: it’s cold outside. Like, really really cold. Marc doesn’t seem to mind, and he likes to tease you about your intolerance to the ice and wind.

A Reminder (18+): Marc x Reader x Layla. Thats it. That’s the plot.

Helping You Through I

From the Ground Up (18+): Getting lost on a mission is a terrifying experience. Being found in the nick of time by the man you love most is a captivating one. (Marc x Male!Reader)

Uncharted Territory: "I was wondering if you could do something with the reader and Marc are going to make love for the first time and she’s nervous bc she has SH scars and her and Marc never talked about that part of her life?"

Jake Lockley x Reader:

Make Your Acquaintance (Chaptered): You’re in a committed relationship with Marc and Steven, but have only heard of Jake through their descriptions. Intimidated by his reputation, you don’t know what to do when a mission gone awry brings Jake right to the front.

The Teddy Bear: The reader has a stuffed animal that they can’t sleep without. Embarrassed, they hide it away whenever their boyfriend, Jake, comes over.

Just a Bit Closer (18+): I was wondering if you could maybe do something with Papi Jake? Soft (only for his princess) Where the reader is craving some on-one time with him.

The Regular Surprise: (Extreme CW) On the night of a big town festival, she reaches her breaking point. A familiar face at an unfamiliar time may just be her last hope.

The Birthday Fic: It’s your birthday. You hope someone will remember.

Moon boys x Reader(2 or more):

Lunar Therapy Masterlist

Not My Intention: "maybe they’re at an office party and some guy comes to her when she’s alone and the boys get jealous since it’s obvious he’s trying to flirt with their girl."

The Birthday Fic: It’s your birthday. You don’t think anyone will remember.

That One Angsty Fic (TW): Sometimes you're your own worst enemy. The moon boys understand that, even when you don't at first.

I Can’t Help Myself (18+): Jake accidentally touches a cursed artifact while on a mission.

A Threatening Paradise: “Could you do a one shot where there’s an unwanted pregnancy scare eventually leading to a marriage proposal?”

Where’s Taweret When You Need Her?: You start your period and you don’t know how the boys are going to react to it.

Looking Good, Four Eyes: could you pls do a fic with the three moon boys where they’d see the reader with her glasses for the first time? 

Two Steps Forward (18+): A fun night with Jake ends up backfiring as Marc is triggered to front mid-coitus.

A Change of Heart: The reader is kidnapped by Harrow as leverage for Moon Knight to hand over the scarab.

Carry me home: Kicked out of your parents house at 16, you find yourself under the care of a cryptic taxi driver. (Jake Lockley accidentally adopts a teenager)

A Reminder: Layla and Marc punish you.

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Non-Insert

Fire Within My Soul (Chaptered): Marc and Steven have a lot to contend with after they return from Cairo. The one thing on their minds, though, is Layla El-Faouly.

More Than Alright (18+): it’s Steven and Layla’s first time together. He’s nervous.

Marvel

Matt Murdock

Having sex with Matt in a stairwell (headcanon)

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

The Robe and Crown [18+]: Joel and Tommy are raiders. Not by choice, not for the thrill. They’re doing what they must to survive. So why, then, is Joel letting you tag along when you’re just another mouth to feed?

That Good Old Way: Picking up right where The Robe and Crown left off, Joel has decided to stay with you.

[pvffinsdaisies]

I saw @apersonwholikeslotus share some stuff about their ghosts au, and it inspired me to share a little bit more about the ghosts au I’ve been working on myself for well over a year now 💕. Big thank you to @ifindus and @nordickies as well as my friend Third over on discord for helping me out with this AU.

Ghosts, a hetalia AU.

ÅLAND/GERMANY: alive

In this AU, Linnea (Åland) & Ludwig (Germany) take Alison & Mike’s rolls. A young couple who move into a Manor House after a very far off relative of Linn’s passes away. After an accident, Linnea is left with the ability to see ghosts, unlike Ludwig who cannot.

DENMARK: 800s

A Viking arriving in britain right before the Danelaw began. Mathias never actually made it to battle, he tripped and fell onto his axe before he got there. Mathias is the oldest of the ghosts, but he doesn’t speak much English besides a few words he’s picked up overtime. Interestingly, he has an extreme reaction whenever someone mentions him helmet not having horns on it. Mathias likes to upkeep his Viking traditions, and forces Linnea to run a bath for him to sit in every week. Mathias has the ghostly ability to be able to touch and move things with enough effort.

NYO SCOTLAND: 1300s

An overly opinionated woman for her time, Bonnie was married off to a wealthy Danish man when she was young. The pair didn’t get along, she found him intolerable, and fucking stupid. Bonnie was poisoned by her husband on their trip down to the north of england. The second oldest ghost after Mathias, but the two struggled to interact with one another. Bonnie can be seen very faintly in photographs.

FAROE ISLANDS: 1400s

Gyða is the ghost I personally consider to have the most tragic backstory. The daughter of a king, and his servant mistress who had been stolen from her home. Gyða grew up never knowing who her dad was, and believing her existence was pointless. She was raised a servant, and threw her out of the highest window of the house on her 20th birthday. Gyða becomes good friends with Bonnie, who in her death helps her find her worth, which allows her to make peace and move on. Gyða’s voice can be heard by humans so long as she shouts/screams/laughs loud enough. She falls from the highest window in the house every night, recreating her death.

NYO FRANCE: 1536

A wealthy Tudor woman, heavily inspired by Anne Boleyn. Marianne was a mistress of Henry VIII between Boleyn and Seymour. She was beheaded after being accused of treason. Her ghost body can never find her head, but she does have the ability to float. She had a strong friendship with Cornwall, a pirate ghost who died not too long after her, who made peace before Linnea and Ludwig moved in.

NORWAY: 1662-1663

Aksel moved to britain alongside his family as a travelling band. They settled into a village, but were not very trusted or popular because of their pagan beliefs. When accused of witchcraft, aksel was the only one of his family who did not manage to escape and sail off to Iceland. He was burnt at the stake. He becomes best friends with Denmark after being harassed by the Viking. But he winds up learning old Norse from being unable to escape him. The two stick together like glue, aksel is more thankful for Mathias than he lets on. When stood close to Aksel you feel extremely hot.

SWEDEN: 1814

A figure of the Swedish government, Björn is in England to discuss the Sweden-Norway war and possible unification of the countries, along side his son. After a heated argument between him and his son, who will live on to become an infamous fictional serial killer in Sweden, he suffocates Björn in his sleep using his pillow. When we meet björn, he has no idea who killed him, and takes intense pride in his son. Björn likes to fill Aksel in on the “current” political system of Scandinavia (though, it is now very outdated). Björn has the ability to fiddle with lighting.

ENGLAND: WWII

What can I say? Cap is my favourite character. And the design is already made for me! I think Arthur was shot dead. He, similar to cap, had a lover who left the station to fight in the war. He makes peace and moves on when his former crush comes back to visit the house, and when Linnea goes out to talk to him, Arthur finds out his love was reciprocated.

FINLAND: 1986

The youngest of the ghosts! Aino was in britain on holiday, taking a tour of the old manor. She gets distracted by something, and in an attempt to hurry and reconnect with the group, they cross a frozen lake, which breaks and they die of hypothermia in the water. Aino herself is actually a relative of Linnea, her auntie who she never got to meet. Aino becomes an unexpected friend to Arthur, being the newest ghost the pair of them team up to try and get to the bottom of how the rest of the ghosts passed away. Aino is the opposite of aksel, when you stand too close to her, you feel colder.

There is more I could touch upon, but here you go!! My ghosts au, which I’ve been wanting to share for way too long now. You can probably spot all the ways I took inspo from the og show.

[turtledude]

Personal headcanons for 2012 tmnt turtles. Fluff 🌸

(T-CEST DNI!)

Raph

-secretly loves rom-com but will never tell a soul

-bonus: Mikey found out when he snuck into raphs room and saw him crying while watching the titanic, he never let him live it down

-has way to many protein shakes

-doesn’t like chocolate but LOVES sour candy

-he loves punk rock but occasionally lets his inner swifty out

-color blind because I said so and it somehow makes sense

-hyper active adhd

-Donnie had to explain pronouns to him. He understood pretty quick but didn’t think much of it. He probably wouldn’t care if someone used she/her on him but he prefers he/him

-he doesn’t like to verbally apologize but if he makes one of his brothers upset on accident he’ll leave a note in their room saying he was sorry and that if they told anyone he apologized they would face his rath

-gets really sad if an animal doesn’t like him but pretends he doesn’t care. (Def a dog person but likes cats)

-I also see him as Demi-romantic and bi. He can’t see a relationship happening if he doesn’t trust you or know you well enough, so I think it fits him(yes I know he fell really quickly for Mona but that doesn’t matter shh)

Donnie

-loves cucumber water

-fav movies are horror films

-he always points out the mistakes if the gore doesn’t look accurate

-I headcanon that when Donnie was younger one of his teeth was loose and Raph like tied a string to it and a door to get it out but it was the wrong tooth. Raph still feels bad about that(I got this idea from a fan made comic but I forgot which)

-He’s autistic you can’t prove to me she’s not

-he’s had a wide range of special intrests which is why they know a lot of random stuff.

-they already knew about pronouns and think any fit him, but it took her a while to realize her sexuality

-bi king

-he’s scared of dogs, def a cat person

-doesn’t like the texture of meat that much

-he often makes things for her brothers to show he cares for them. Time and gift giving is the way they show affection

-not used to physical touch but loves hugs, especially Mikey’s hugs. She finds it really sweet

Mikey

-they love pickles so much (probably tried it on pizza while his brothers just looked horrified in the distance)

-lactose intolerant but doesn’t care (his brothers suffer for it)

-def still watches my little pony (me too it’s okay)

-innetentive adhd

-forgets things constantly but always feels bad about it

-Raphs gotten into the habit of reminding him about stuff and Mikey really appreciates it

-loves action films but thinks horror is too scary

-their pan like I just can’t see it any other way

-bros got rizz with everyone/j

-doesn’t really care about pronouns but prefers they/he

-he prefers cats over dogs but still thinks dogs are cute

-their very physically affectionate and hugs their brothers as much as they’ll let him cough* Raph

-listens to music when he’s upset

-if he makes one of his brothers upset they get really mad at himself, they’ll constantly apologize and try to make them feel better

Leo

-autistic and his special interest is space hero’s

-loves action and comedy movies(even better when it’s a mix)

-he hates mayonnaise, idk he just looks like he hates it.

-the type of guy to eat ranch on his pizza

-he’s gay your honor

-whenever he tries to act serious his brothers try to mess with him and make him laugh, it works everytime

-he’s trans and uses he/him cause I’m right

-literally cannot decide whether he likes cats or dogs more

-even though he tries to be mature, he can pretty hot headed sometimes. He’s also stubborn so if you make him mad it will take a bit before he apologizes

-but even with that if he calms down and realizes he actually upset his brothers or friends, he’s gonna apologize. He doesn’t want to ruin a relationship just because he’s stubborn

-he has scars from fighting and sometimes feels a little self conscious about them, but Raph always tells him they look cool and it actually makes him like them more

[hiding-in-my-blanket-fort]

.

Just doing a brain dump to get it off my mind. And to make sure I talk about it, rather than bottling it up.

Since I'm reading a stack of toxic family self help books, I've been re-evaluating the way I perceive myself, my self belief system, etc. I was an anxious, shy, introverted kid. I also suspect neurodivergence plays a big role as well.

So, I had trouble socializing. I was often thrown into a big group of kids with my loud, extroverted, boisterous brother and obviously people flocked to him. He was also the Golden Child so my mother told me to be more like him "because people liked him." The implication was loud and clear that they didn't like me.

She gave me conflicting messages that messed with my head. On one hand, she said, "When you're quiet, people think you're a bitch." (Gee! Thanks!)

On the other hand, whenever I expressed frustration at my lack of friends or social belonging, she said, "What do you have to complain about? Everyone loves you!"

That just made me confused. Did people actually like me? Was I not giving myself enough credit? What was I not seeing here?

But looking back, I realize that I was right. I did not have social belonging or acceptance of any kind.

I had one long term friend. She moved away and we were pen pals for 10 years. But she loved to drop little hints and comments to put me down, i.e. when she repeatedly brought up how she was having literary analysis chats with her college friends about Twilight. "You wouldn't understand. This is what you talk about in college." I went to college a year or two later.

One time, she described our friendship as Frodo and Sam. Which would have been an honor if she'd just stopped there. But she described herself as Frodo because she was "the hero of the friendship, going on adventures". Meanwhile, she dubbed me as Sam, "the sidekick who stays home and bakes pies, being domestic" (I have multiple severe food intolerances so I have to cook a lot of my own food, but she didn't know how to cook, like it was beneath her because she was An Academic Scholar).

It was kinda...gut wrenching tbh. Sam fucking carried Frodo up that mountain. But she did not describe me that way.

My other "friends" never showed interest in what I was interested in. They pushed their interests all the time, but when I shared what I was excited about, I was met with bored expressions or dismissive comments. I read their favorite books and watched their favorite movies, but they didn't give a damn about my favorite anything.

And I'm not saying I did it expecting reciprocity. But there has to be a balance. I talked myself out of expecting any return interest. I was supposed to just pour myself into them, again and again, because it was "selfish" to expect anyone to be interested in me.

And then I wondered why I felt so empty. If you're spending all the time on them, and they can't be bothered with you in return, something isn't right.

In group settings, it's almost physically painful and I struggle to just stay afloat. There's too much happening, I'm overwhelmed by all the social cues flying around, I never know when I can talk, and it's taking so much energy that it's killing me but I can't even meet the bare minimum.

I have a vivid memory of sitting in a group and interjecting a comment about art. The loudest asshole guy in the group who had been commandeering the whole chat said, "Well, there goes the INTERESTING conversation we were having!" And it hurt so fucking much because it takes a lot for me to speak up, especially when it comes to something I care about.

I was even rescued from a group once. It was a teen outing and everyone was really rowdy and loud, practically climbing all over my brother. I sat at the far end of the table feeling invisible. One of the chaperones tapped me on the shoulder and suggested we visit the art gallery next door, saying that she knew what it was like to be stuck in a situation like that.

It was very kind of her to do that, but it's also just...fucking sad.

A few years ago, I thought I was making friends with two girls I worked with. But they both had big friend groups already. And I swear they could smell my lack of friends on me or something. It was so casual for them to have group chats, order food for each other, plan a movie outing, swap phone numbers. They didn't have to think about it because it was natural and well practiced to them.

I've never done that. It's foreign to me.

I worked with one "friend" to celebrate the other "friend's" birthday. We made a poster, cards, balloons, gifts, etc in the middle of Covid. She didn't say anything to me, but she profusely thanked the other friend. It really felt...deflating. Around me, she acted like nothing happened.

I drew a portrait of a friend's 14yo dog who had passed away (it wasn't a shitty drawing either, I've exhibited art in Yellowstone and Cape Cod). I kept asking her if it showed up, again and again. She said no, it hadn't arrived. THREE MONTHS LATER, I practically begged her to go look at the post office. She picked it up, said, "Thanks!" and we never spoke again.

All of these instances have caused me pain I wasn't allowed to feel or admit to. If I did, my mother said I couldn't complain. "At least people are talking to you! You should be grateful!"

No. That's not how it works.

I am sharing part of myself here. I am expressing appreciation for a friend by making them meaningful gifts, showing interest in their lives, and it is not reciprocated.

That is fucking damaging.

I'm coming to the realization just how big of an impact these instances have had on my self belief. I really struggle to think of myself as a person worthy of...anything. I can't fathom someone showing interest in me in any way because...of this. Because this is my history.

It doesn't have to be my future. I can learn to cultivate better friendships. I can learn that walking away is better than forcing a relationship that is going to cut me down and think less of myself.

But first, I need to recognize that I've had a shitty history and I need to accept that it wasn't fair.

I also need to learn - somehow - that just because people in my past didn't give a shit about me doesn't make me a boring person. Just because they couldn't value me doesn't mean I'm not valuable.

It's hard to type that. And I can't really get myself to believe it yet. But I'll work on it.

[doctorkintsugi]

A Thousand Times

It has been a while since I have posted, but today I wanted to share. Things have not been going well for quite a while. Today is Monday, and I am not at work.

Early last week, I woke up and thought, “I can’t do this today.” Then I got up and went to work, because for the past decade whenever I have heard myself say, “I can’t do this today,” I have done it anyway. I would estimate I’ve had that thought a thousand times since I started med school. Not one of those times did I believe me. Every time I would respond with some variation of, “you have to.” Now I see that I was right, though. Even though I did what I said I could not do a thousand times, I was breaking in slow motion. Every time I did not listen to myself, I developed a new hairline crack. It didn’t keep me from functioning, that day. Indeed, I accomplished the often-unstated but always-obvious objective of learning to perform at a very high level while ignoring my every physical and emotional need. But the day would eventually have to arise when all of the cracks would result in collapse. Some part of me could see that, and was telling me very clearly, but the rest of me refused to accept that I have limits. I started out so strong that I couldn’t recognize fragility.

The past year or so has seen an obvious decline in my mental health. Really, moving into my fixer house while simultaneously recovering from major surgery was the beginning, but that anxiety felt very situational and largely related to my dawning realization that I could not rely on solidarity from my partner. Then the delta wave happened, and the traumas at work caused me to start having panic attacks. Those were impossible to ignore, and I knew then that I needed help. I started therapy, and regular meditation, and ultimately meds. I felt I was getting better, and then I watched one of my best friends die; I helped make the decision to extubate her and was alone with her when she took her last breath. In the aftermath of that I continued to struggle with my partner, and every bad day felt worse than the last. I careened into depression like a little plane with its engine on fire, crashing into a forest. Every day became an “I can’t do this today” day. I kept doing it. After months of his attributing all of our problems to my poor mental health, my partner then told me that he thought I was making it all up to manipulate him. I will never forget the abject despair that I felt when he said that. I maxed out my vacation time and went to Montana with three wonderful women, who watched me drag myself through our days with concern. On the drive back home I spent the long, bleak hours trying not to think about suicide. Trying not to think about something feels an awful lot like thinking about it.

On Wednesday I had a dentist appointment for a routine cleaning. I was having an anxious morning and really didn’t want to go, but counterpoint: adult. I have had a lot of painful dental work done in my life and part of why I like my dentist is that they’ll basically give you (well, sell you) nitrous for anything even remotely uncomfortable. She asked if I wanted it for this cleaning and I said no. I did want it, but I felt silly accepting (and paying for) an anesthetic when I knew I was just getting a cleaning. As soon as the dentist started probing I realized I had fucked up. The pain was simultaneously minor and intolerable. I thought about my patients, and how I tell them all the time that anxiety and depression magnify pain. In that chair, I fully understood what I had been talking about.

The dentist noticed that I was jumpy and she asked how I was doing. That question felt impossible to answer, and I began to have the chest pressure that I have come to recognize as the onset of a panic attack. Tears started running down my face and I was breathing hard, and I saw both of them realize that I was now A Whole Situation. I have been the professional on the other side of A Whole Situation, both caring about the person who is struggling and also knowing that I have limited time and resources and that this has the potential to derail my day. They were very kind, and I was very embarrassed. The hygienist suggested that maybe I actually did need the nitrous, and offered to get that going if I wanted to proceed. I should have just rescheduled, but because of my refusal to believe, “I can’t do this today” I stayed and accepted the nitrous. I was congested from crying and the little nose mask was uncomfortable to use, but the nitrous did help and I got through it. As I lay there tripping on residual panic chemistry combined with that silliest of drugs, I recognized that I was losing the ability to function.

The next morning as I climbed into the tub before work, I found that I was dissociating. I hadn’t had a good sleep in I don’t know how long, and I could barely manage the mechanics of showering. I thought about my full clinic schedule and started to panic again. I tried to imagine getting through the day, and wondered if I could avoid making any decisions about medications, because doing even the most basic math seemed impossible. In that moment, it was very clear that I was no longer safe to practice medicine. I had been monitoring for that, and was certain I would be able to recognize if I had crossed that line. On Thursday, I crossed it, and now I’m out on FMLA. A thousand mornings later, I couldn’t do it.

Today, four days after that, I am contemplating kintsugi. I don’t know if this pile of dust can be reassembled into something whole. It may have to be kneaded into fresh clay and made into something new. For now, my primary task is to listen to my whole self and believe what I am saying.

[realreulbbrband]

For the flower ship asks thing, (you dont have to all of them I just wanted to give you a choose lmao)

Dahlia & Rose : MistoJerrie

Water lily & Sunflower : TantoDemeter

Daisy & Bluebell : AlonzoTeazer

Ooo variety thank you

Mistojerrie

Rose ; Who's more romantic?

Generally? It’s sort of 50/50 since they have different love languages.

Mungo loves finding (and stealing) gifts to impress Mistoffelees with and taking him to places around town he hasn’t been to before. 

Whereas Mistoffelees is a little more casual, sure he’ll do some tricks for mungo whenever he asks but sometimes (mostly on occasions like anniversaries) misto will try to surprise him. Most of the time Misto is more of a words of affirmations type though.

If you’re asking who’s more flirtatious then 100% mungo cheesy pick up lines but some generally sweet ones too. 

more below

Dahlia ; Do they keep secrets from each other?

Hmmm

I can see Misto unintentionally keeping secrets from mungo, Misto likes to keep his personal things to himself generally so near the start of their relationship he isn’t exactly used to opening up to someone that isn’t victoria. Over time however he does learn to trust and speak to Mungojerrie more.

However In a very specific scenario Misto seems like he’d keep mungo out of the loop on certain situations until they’re over and done with. He just doesn’t want to trouble him.

When it comes to Macavity- yea mungo keeps a lot of secrets, like Misto it’s more instinctive (at least at first) he doesn’t really talk about Macavity with anyone who wasn’t there with him and prefers to leave his past in the past. 

However if Misto tries to bring up the topic Mungo tends to shut down the conversation or just down play whatever had occurred if he went to see Mac recently. (if he even admits he did). 

It’s complicated, keeping secrets from each other is a habit they both grow out of the longer they’re together but it’s never truly done with malicious intent.

Tantometer

Water Lily ; Which one cares about their appearance more? Ooooo tough one

Tantomile (before they got together at least) really wanted to impress Demeter, and make a strong impression. But that’s a tad bit difficult when you have an identical twin. 

So Tant may or may not have asked Bombalurina for advice…which she was more then happy to give ofc. (Which is why tant has red lipstick) 

Dem ofc doesn't care about appearances of others that much, but Tantomile did develop a bit of a liking to pampering which eventually did get to dem. 

It became less about them wanting to have great appearances all the time and more about some morning self care (I don’t know if cats actually have makeup but like 2019 has a bunch of cats drinking milk even though they’re lactose intolerant so logic doesn’t matter) anyways they have some morning routine pampering together along with self care dates. So equal amount. 

Sunflower ; Which one would go to jail for the other?

I want to say Tantomile but Demeter will literally commit a felony and go against anyone for someone she loves (cough cough jumping fake deut). So purely because girl is the right amount of unhinged Demeter. 

Alonzoteazer

Daisy ; Which one sings while doing chores? Are they good at it?

Oooooo

Alonzo does, and fairly well but only when he thinks he’s alone and then when Rump catches him and ofc teases him about it he acts like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about until she eventually moves on.

Rump sings loud and proud, cats from outside the den could probably hear. It’s mostly nonsense she made up on the spot or related to whatever chore she’s doing. Alonzo appears neutral but he genuinely enjoys it, sometimes he’ll even hum teazers silly songs while on patrol.

Teazer tried singing a lullaby to him once it was bad but hey it cheered him up

Bluebell ; Who's more emotional?

Hmmmmmm

They’re both fairly emotional, Alonzo tries to toughen up sometimes but that crumbles quite quickly. 

As for Rump 90% of the time she’s an open book. 

I don’t have much more to say….just Alonzo finds himself opening up to Teazer quite easily since she’s good company.

[rametarin]

Doomsday preppers bore me.

Speaking a little bit about my background again.

So. It's 1995-96. I'm 11-12 years old. Parents divorced, we've since moved from where we started into a trailer so I can go to school in a new town, because the old one had a teacher that was an immovable object and destroying my mental health. Mom would either have needed to stop being an utter cunt and bringing her stress home with her to take it out on me, or my teacher would have to, and rather than just stop being a cunt at me, she chose to put me in a different school in a different town.

So we moved in with my 40-something dad after my parents divorced. She was a raging bitch again, dictating things she had no right dictating, starting screaming matches over control issues and just generally causing problems and dilemmas so no one could have any peace unless they were submitting to her and giving her attention. Just privileged (the real definition, not the sociology major one) white woman shit, knowing the law at the time would stan for her no matter how much of a raging cunt she was to everyone and everything. Any excuse to kick a man out of his own home was a good excuse, and everybody knew it.

It got so bad my father took on an obscene financial burden just to buy a house down the street and stick us in it so he'd have his space back. Since mom was hellbent on getting every dollar from him and lording ownership of his property over him while both of us, his kids, were under 18.

By 1996, she had really fallen off the deep end and was being a belligerent and aggressive bitch to everyone and everything for no reason other than they weren't doing exactly as she wanted, immediately when she wanted it. Failure to do that meant she was going to just make your life miserable as a pasttime, since women do not reap physical consequences for these actions without triggering other women's "THAT COULD BE ME! I CAN'T TOLERATE THAT HAPPENING TO ANOTHER WOMAN! SHE'S A MOOOOMM!!!" response.

She started writing down her delusions in a lined notebook. She's always believed she was some sort of psychic/sensitive spiritualist. She identifies as a Christian and sees "the occult" as bad, but she believes herself to be holyer-than-thou and thus, her self-aggrandizing brand of pseudo-spirituality is centered around receiving divine prophecy. Any stupid thing she imagines, she believes is going to happen and continues to look for it. Anything she did not personally imagine, she discredits as impossible, because she didn't foresee it.

So you can have the flu and she won't give a shit and consider you exaggerating your pain and distress, but if she "prophesices" you're going be ill, she ignores how you actually feel and projects her delusions of how sick you're going to be onto you. Just, antagonize you to try and get you to play out how she imagines reality working. It's like being aggressively Live Action Roleplayed at and being stuck in that awkward moment where you won't do what she imagined is true.

It's a kind of narcissism where she's both acting as well as deluding herself to try and convince herself and those around her of her preferred way of seeing the world. She AGGRESSIVELY tries to gaslight reality itself. That level of audaciousness and pride is just, 10/10 asshole. And it's exposure to this raging, consequence-free, insulated piece of shit that has forced me to intolerance when dealing with them. Because like any petty dictator, you can be as deluded and egotistical as you want so long as you make OTHER PEOPLE die or suffer for your delusions. She sacrificed my health, safety and future by forcing my participation in her delusions as a consequence of living around and with her, so whenever she faced setbacks, she demanded I somehow MAKE her delusions work, or not only did I get punished by the consequences of her disgusting decisions independent of her response to it, but I was given the blame for them when they failed. Like it was my ass that filled the room with canned food until the cheap plastic shelves collapsed.

So anyway. By 1997, she had a raging "I'm just, like, psychic, y'know?" boner of self-importance, and she looked around to find literature that'd compliment and play along with her delusions. She was depressed, and the only reason she wasn't suicidal was because she was too prideful to die while we, he kids, were still young and dependent. But, she was miserable. Independent of anything else, she wanted a situation where she could die but be utterly blameless for it.

In fact, she wanted to go to heaven but it be God's will, but god wasn't cooperating. Outside a few panic attacks, she was fit as a fat flabby fiddle. Dispirited, she started diving into literature that confirmed her bias and found a culture of similar doomer-boomers online, from similar backgrounds and attitudes. She found the world of Christian online rapturism.

Now, when one imagines these, they imagine a very top-down hierarchy of cultists preaching to ignorant, receptive, submissive sheep about bible scripture and what for sure is going to happen. This is not true. Each person in that room that is not the preacher has certain expectations for them to confirm their bias and say what they want said, and the preachers that would be popular have to read the room to figure out their bend, biases and what they want, in order to affirm the bias. They are only giving these supposed preachers the power over them to fit that role. If the preacher starts dictating things they don't believe, they lose their top-from-the-bottom narcsisstic flock and wind up followerless. They aren't all a bunch of Pentacostal tongue speakers babbling nonsense or Catholics LARPing demon exorcisms.

So she joined these 'prepper' forums where boomerdoomers talk about how the end for sure is coming you gais, it's prophesized in dur by-bull.

The number of nights I had to listen to this stupid bitch moaning and diatribing to herself about "the mark of the beast" being an ID chip for some dystopian cyberpunk world, and microchips in milk and other stupid shit, were far too many. Chemtrails being poison by some nebulous government agency poisoning the air (JUST FUCKING WAKES OF PLANES YOU DUMB CUNT) and, just, an endless cavalcade of confirmation biases for her delusions. And every single one gave her the confidence to fake it until she made it about The Rapture being right around the corner.

The truth was, I think, she hated the idea of "being used" by us, her kids. Me, in particular. We'd finally gotten stable to where, as a nurse, she was pulling in between 65 to 70K a year in 1990s money. She wasn't paying rent or a mortgage, because the house we lived in was owned by my father, they were divorced, and him paying the mortgage was basically like child support since it meant she didn't have to pay rent to live anywhere. That was easily $1,200 a month in savings.

So how did this selfish cunt spend the savings? Was it on securing new cars to get from A to B? Was it on college educations for us, her kids? School supplies? A second car, so I'd be able to get to and from a job in order to make my own money?

No. She blew what savings that would've come from that out of her disgusting cottage cheese ass on frivolous feel-goods. Going out to the movies every weekend, buying movies, buying junk food, driving around waaaaay more miles than was good for the car, paying automotive bills from using the car too much, throwing fistfuls of money to lord how she was "the good sister" and a martyr and oh how her sisters abused her generosity, at all her sisters.

And she expected ME to get a job, put a car in her name, buy the car, have absolutely no control over where I could go with it, no right to drive it without her explicit direction and permission, but all responsibility to take care of it from maintenance to gas money (and she loves to just ride around in circles for no other reason than to wastegas.) And wanted all my future minimum wage dollars to go towards paying her bills..

So she could, again, blow more of her own money out of her ass. Which she patted herself on the back for by taking the initiative and spending, whether we wanted her to or not, to then wail and scream about how we "owed her" and she'd expect us to fork over our income when we were making any.

So from 1997 to 2002, conveniently from the time I went from 13-18, this world class cunt became the most insufferable, entitled, antagonistic, greedy bitch in the world. Every minute of the day had to be about her, every dollar had to be about her delusions, every inch of space in the house was taken up by her spending exorbinant amounts of money on canned foods and powdered milk and other nonsense until just moving through the house was an episode of Hoarders.

No matter how much I might say, "We HAVE NO MORE FUCKING ROOM!" She'd just buy more because, "IT WAS ON SAAAAAALE. MAKE ROOM!!" and make it my responsibility to Tetris-block rearrange her shit so we could fit more into the way too small house.

It wasn't bad enough that she was keeping us poor as fuck by only investing in her delusional, "seven years of tribulations and strife" food, preceding the rapture. But that she filled the house with her shit, and forced me to participate in moving it around. Forcing other people to normalize your delusions is a power move intended to dominate and control the environment and setting in which other people live. It's a way to try and impose reality onto them by forcing them to interact with it on your terms.

I couldn't have any social life, money to go with other people, or even build my own future, because this disgusting cunt wanted to LARP out some fantasy that god would swoop down, alleviate her need to kill herself to escape reality, and bring her up to heaven while everybody she disagreed with burned in hell beneath her. But I didn't want to surrender to the state and just become homeless.

I wanted her to snap the fuck out of it. I thought she was just a proud moron, not rotten to her core evil. I know better now, but I will never, ever give anyone the benefit of the doubt like this again. You show me who you really are once, I'll believe you, even after you claim to change. Because the reality she was going to be not just worthless but a detriment to my life was too cold and horrible to imagine for teenaged me. The reality was worse than I ever could've imagined.

She never got better. Even after her date of 2000 new years when the rapture was supposed to happen, the world didn't end. Nor did it happen on new years 2001. So we go into 2001, and she's still talking about "any day now." Since she married herself to the idea Jesus was going to beam us up and there was no reason to invest in the future because God made sure heaven was going to be our future.

I was going to turn 18 in summer of 2002. I figured she'd see that she'd been foolish and just went through a rough spell, mentally, and would recover.

And then fall 2001, 9/11 happened. She got back on her bullshit and being irrational and unreasonable. With added bigotry towards Islam above and beyond the antipathy that Islamototalitarianism deserves.

Then that stupid murmuring of prophecy shit caught in her dumbass Doomsday prepper online forums, and 2012 became the next big date of global catastrophe. Which, surprise surprise to people in 2024, was another great big fat fucking nothingburger.

I have no patience or tolerance for doomerboomers. I know exactly what you are. It's ugly, it's selfish, it's ignorant, it's mentally diseased and it belongs in a god damned nuthouse.

The only reason I didn't try to have the stupid bitch committed was she was just functional enough to provide a bit of money for my grandparents (her parents) to keep them out of complete poverty.

Well. Both my grandparents are dead, now. And all her sisters and brothers (my aunts and uncles) are despicable, selfish, delusional assholes that I wouldn't piss on to put them out if they were on fire. She's no less psychotic and insufferable now than in the 00s. Less so, even. I lose nothing and hurt no one if telling the police about her would get her put on the funny farm.

Anyway. Yeah, the eclipse brought out people like her in droves, and it made me angry.

[strangunddurm]

Knees

Pairing: Flip Zimmerman x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: Age gap (reader is of age!), oral m receiving, flip has a fat cock , PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, vagina-having-person-related words, possessive, mentions DUI.

A/N: If this doesn't show up in the tags it will potentially be my last post bc I am too mentally unstable to deal with this

There you were, in his favourite position to see you in. You knew that you belonged just like that; on your knees, back arched, and ass high up in the air. He could watch you just like this for hours and hours on end and even that wouldn’t be enough.

His eyes ran over your every curve and lick of skin that was visible. The small gap between your jeans and t-shirt caused him to bite down on his tongue hard to stop him from letting a groan slip out. That little sliver of skin was begging for his touch, wanted him to grasp onto your waist as he worshipped every inch of your body.

You were swaying your hips now. Such a naughty girl. You knew what that did to him, how hard his cock grew in his pants at the sight of it. You wanted him to take you right there and then, didn't you? Flip wondered how wet you were at that moment, panties most likely drenched. God. He wanted to taste you, needed to taste you.

Flip wanted to slot his dick between your thighs, coating it thoroughly in your slickness before he fucked you in the way that you deserved to be fucked. You deserved to be eaten out until your legs shook and your mind was blank. You deserved to be fingered until you came so hard that his hand would be drenched. But most of all you deserved to be fucked so deeply that you would feel him with every step you took for days.

Seeing you bent over as you were filled Flip with the intolerable urge to go over there and fuck you. He didn't care where you you were or the fact that you were the (probably inappropriately young) grandchild of his neighbour that most likely didn't even know his name, or much less the fact that Flip had taken up the habit of sitting on his front porch just so that he could watch you.

It was a perversion. He knew that, scolded himself over it every night, but he just couldn't bring himself to stop it. It was the highlight of his day. The way you would come out through the front door to get started on the gardening that you were so kind to help your grandparents with.

You never suspected anything. Neither did your grandmother whenever she would come out onto her own porch and greet him with a wave before going to check on how you were doing. It was one of the perks of being a part of the local police department. No one ever suspected him of doing anything bad, not that he did a lot of bad things. He just enjoyed looking every once in a while. It appeared completely innocent to anyone else, and it was at first, but then he would get his thoughts going and they would usually take a turn down a slightly less innocent route.

But how could anybody possibly blame him? You were a work of art. The way your hips would sway when you walked was sinful and made him so hard he often had to take a cold shower after his morning cup of coffee. But as stated before, if anyone were to look down upon him, it all would appear completely innocent. Most people had a shower before work, right? It was just his thought that were filthy and most people's were at one point or another.

Flip didn't think you had noticed his lingering gaze. Or at least not how often he would let his eyes run over your body. After all, most of the time you were turned away from him, on all fours with your head down in one of the flowerbeds. But unbeknownst to him you had; you weren't as completely ditsy and unaware of your surroundings as you appeared to be.

This revelation came to Flip in the form of you appearing on his doorstep, knocking gently before Flip had a chance to take his newfound favourite spot on the porch.

He had been surprised. Flip rarely got visitors that hadn't made their arrival known through a phone call beforehand so he was slightly cautious at first. It was understandable, Flip was a detective after all. It could've been a vengeful felon that was waiting to exert some sort of revenge onto him on the other side of the door. But it wasn't. It was just you. Glorious you.

"Hello, Mr. Zimmerman." Your voice was smooth as honey as you greeted him with a bright smile and a small wave of your hand. He sent you his own crooked smirk as he leaned against the doorway. You were in your usual gardening uniform; a ratty old t-shirt and jeans that had more patches in them than not. A light sheen of sweat covered your brow, a result from the unusually warm summer sun Colorado had been praised with.

"How can I help you?" Did you come over here for a fuck? Were you wet between those legs of yours? Were you dripping for him? Because he was painfully hard for you.

Flip couldn't help but let his eyes trail over your form as you talked about some problem with a tree in the backyard. He wanted to know what you tasted like; how you sounded when you came. Were you sweet? Did you moan? Or was it a perhaps a whine? How would your hands feel wrapped around his stiff cock? He was so painfully hard in his jeans; cock practically weeping for your touch.

"...would that be okay?" He hadn't heard a single word you said, but he would do anything for you, as long as he got to fuck you stupid afterwards.

"Would what be okay?"

"Helping me?" You asked with a shy smile as you shuffled from side to side anxiously.

"Of course, Sweetheart." Flip hoped his smile came across as kind and not as predatory as he felt in that moment.

"Would now be okay?" Another smile from you and he was putty in your hands.

Flip wordlessly nodded. Stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind him. You were so close to him now. Closer than you had ever been. He could smell you, the most heavenly scent he had ever smelt.

You didn't take a step back as any other person would have done as he crowded your personal space. In fact, it almost seemed as if you welcomed him closer. So it was true then. You did want him. It was obvious now. Your need for him was as big as his need was for you.

A silence hung between the two of you for just a moment, suspended in the air between you both for a heartbeat. And then you remember that the appropriate thing to do was to take a step back. You cleared your throat softly. You were flustered, eyes avoiding meeting his as they flittered over your surroundings, was old Mrs. Mason watching you? She was a nosy old lady that had taken it upon herself to know anything and everything that was going on in the neighbourhood.

The walk to your grandparent's backyard was longer than ever as you lead the way. And Flip thought that you somehow dragged it out for longer than normal on purpose. You wanted him to look as you swung those hips in front of him with every step. Flip had to subtlety adjust himself, he didn't mind you knowing just how much he wanted to fuck you, but everyone else did not need to be so privy to his thoughts.

"It's this one." It was an old tree, half-dead and ready to have been cut down 20 years ago. "Do you think you could cut it down? We have all the tools and stuff..." Did you always try to make everybody think that you were so innocent? Flip had to admit that you played it well. The innocent act suited you and probably made him that much more interested in you, but he knew that you had to be hiding something much more devious underneath that facade.

"Yeah, should be no problem." Flip replied gruffly whilst trying to appear as if he was remotely interested in the tree and task at hand. All he wanted in that moment was to strip you naked and bend you over the fence in the backyard, not giving a damn who could be watching. It would give them all something to talk about. Whoever 'them' was.

Flip dragged it all out for as long as he could, taking his time as he cut through the stem by hand, making sure to really make a show of it. Flip usually despised the hotter summer months, finding himself much more comfortable in when it was at least a bit chilly. That being said, he couldn't be more thankful in that moment for the heat as it had caused him to forgo his usual attire of a checkered shirt and jeans. A simple white t-shirt was all that covered his torso and it clung to him, a consequence of the sweat he built up with each swing of the axe.

Your gaze was so obviously intensely laced with lust as you ogled him that it almost made him blush. Your sweet, old grandma came out with a pitcher of freshly made lemonade and fretting over the hard work he was doing in the midday sun. Flip tipped back the first glass, downing it in a quick succession of gulps. A single drop made its way from the corner of his lips, down his neck before disappearing behind the collar of his shirt and he knew he had you then. You were so entranced by that single drop of lemonade that you didn't seem to notice Flip's own gaze as he watched you, watching him. So, you were a desperate slut, just as he had always known.

She didn't stay long - your grandmother - choosing to leave the "youngsters" to themselves, seemingly appearing oblivious to the mounting tension that was building within each passing second.

You appeared to have completely abandoned the task you had dedicated yourself of cleaning up the back porch in favour for admiring his form and every move he made.

Flip couldn't help but drop his pants and tug at himself when he came home, utterly consumed in thoughts of you. He had palmed his stiff length through his jeans as he crossed the road, not giving a damn about the old ladies sitting on their porches.

Flip was so close to coming right as a knock on his door rung through the house for the second time that day. Flip couldn't help but let a groan of annoyance slip out. All he wanted was to be left alone. He had been so painfully hard all day, leaking with pre-cum. He had gone commando so every movement he had made in that backyard made him acutely aware of just how uncomfortable he had been.

Flip tucked himself back into his jeans before making his way to the front door and wrenching it open hastily. A man that was usually so in control of his movements had turned into an uncontrollable stick figure of limbs. All he needed was a release. He wanted to cum as he imagined you on your knees in front of him, tits out and mouth hanging open, ready to receive whatever he gave you.

"I just wanted to thank you, Mr. Zimmerman." It was you. Looking as innocent as ever in a dress and a perfectly baked apple pie held out in front of you. His cock twitched in his pants, weeping even more at the sight of you.

"Flip, please; Mr. Zimmerman is my father." It was a miracle that he even got any words out. He was so strung out on lust that thoughts were just .... flittering through his mind hazily and so rapidly that he could barely distinguish between them.

You thrust the pie toward him eagerly and he couldn't help but smile back. It was an automatic response. Your smile was so beautiful that it was contagious, forcing anybody who bared witness to reciprocate it, not that he minded. Smiling came to be one of the easiest things to do around you, despite seemingly having been allergic to the act previously.

"Flip." You let a small giggle slip out and Flip wanted to groan. He wanted to hear you chant his name over and over again. He wanted you to scream it as you came and moan it as he fingered you.

"This looks delicious." You look delicious.

"Oh, thank you, I made it." And Flip could bet on it tasting just as good as you would.

"Do you want to come in?" Did he have an ulterior motive inviting you in? Perhaps, but it all seemed like the good thing to do, the kind and neighbourly ting to do. After all, you had put in all this work baking him a pie, it was only right that you should get to taste it.

You didn't seem hesitant at all as you accepted his invitation and step over the threshold, into his kingdom. Flip noticed how you looked around, taking it all in, appreciating how despite being somewhat of a casanova, Flip's house was far from being like that of a bachelor. He liked his comfort, appreciated it, and he liked it when things were organised. At least at home. It sort of counteracted the mess his job had a tendency to be.

"What a nice house you have." Flip muttered out a 'thank you' as he got two plates out, along with two small spoons and something to slice the pie with. You made yourself at home by the kitchen table and it all felt so domestic. Flip didn't mind this at all. In fact, you could say that he loved it. He would much more appreciate having you bent over the table as he plowed into you and have the sound of your wet pussy bounce across the walls, but that would come later.

The pie was delicious. But Flip was so distracted by the thought of you tasting just as nice that he couldn't fully appreciate it. He wanted to get between those legs and lap at you like he was a man dying of hunger and the only thing that could save him was eating you out.

"How long have you lived here?" Casual conversation. Flip could do casual conversation, he did it all the time - just like any other human.

"Couple of years."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"It has a nice view." You wouldn't fully understand what he meant by that. Living in Colorado Springs provided Flip with the most gorgeous backyard of mountains that everyone could appreciate, but he was referring to a much different view. After all, there was a reason for why he favoured his front porch and not the back.

"How long are you staying here for?"

"Oh, I'm moving in with grandma and grandpa, they could use some help right now." An absolute saint, that is what you were. So selfless and so kind. Flip practically felt giddy at the revelation; how could he possibly feel sad over a limitless amount of time with you?

"That's kind of you." How much longer was this going to go on for? Should he tell you now how he wanted you to wrap your lips around him and take him as deep in your mouth as he could go? He wanted to see tears leak from the corner of your eyes and down your cheeks in small trails as you gagged around him. It was the only time Flip ever wanted to see you cry, only time he would ever allow you to cry other than when you were so desperate for him that you couldn't do anything but weep.

You bashfully waved the complement off and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence. Flip couldn't help but stare at you, it felt like it was all that he did recently, but who could blame him?

"Won't your partner miss you?" Flip finally said with a glint in his eyes. It was all a game and he had to play his cards right.

"Oh, I don't have one of those." Perfect. It wasn't that Flip was going to respect some other man's boundaries, it just saved him the time of having to break up a possible relationship. Flip wanted you all to himself, and he was going to get you all to himself, no matter what.

"Good." He hadn't meant to let it slip out but seeing how shy you turned hearing those words filled him with glee. The way you ducked your head and squirmed in you seat whilst smiling down at your lap was cute. Really fucking cute.

"I better get home, I promised Grandma I would help her with the laundry." Was it an excuse to get away from him? Flip rarely felt unsure of himself and this could've been one of those rare moments that he did if it hadn't been so blatantly obvious in your body language that you wanted to do anything but leave.

He saw you out, bidding you goodbye with a smile and a promise to come over with the pie form once he was done with it. He stayed in the doorway, watching you bounce through every step on your way back and only shutting his own door once he saw you close yours. You were driving him insane and absolutely mad. It wasn't perhaps in the best way, but it was what it was. Flip saw no point in trying to change anything or curb any of his dirty thoughts. As Flip saw it, a man was - and would always be - entitled to his own mind, no matter how perverted it was.

His seat on the front porch couldn't have been more comfier after that. At first, Flip thought he was imagining things when he noticed the way you would bend down a bit lower whenever you were on all fours in the flowerbeds, providing him with an even better look of the perfect view. But then you wore that dress. God, that dress was sinful. And you didn't even try to cover yourself when it rode up when you were gardening. Flip couldn't help the growl that slipped out and he found himself leaning forward as if in a trance, wanting to see just a little bit more. Would you slide those panties to the side for him? Let him see you? All of you? He knew you were dripping for him, you had to be with the way you smiled over your shoulder before disappearing back into the house. It was obvious that it was all for him.

In a game of chess you would always have to be ahead of your opponent. You had to think like them, think about all of the moves they could possibly make. It was the same thing at his job, being a detective required him to be several paces ahead at all times. Maybe that's why Flip wasn't overly surprised at your actions, he had been expecting it after all.

You didn't wear your old and worn out dungarees again after that. It was all short dresses, shorts, and skirts which Flip, of course, could do nothing but appreciate, but he wondered just how much of a scandal you were stirring amongst the old ladies in the neighbourhood.

You were sitting on his porch waiting for him when he came home from work an afternoon in June. It was a welcomed sight and Flip wanted you to sit there waiting for him every day after that.

"Hello!" You had bounded over to the railing closest to where he parked his car, leaning over the railing as you smiled at him. He couldn't help but smile up at you. Neither of you acted as if it was out of the ordinary for you to be there as he unlocked the front door. You invited yourself in this time, slipping through the door closely behind him whilst making easy conversation.

"I'm making some more pie so I need that form back."

"Yes, of course, sorry i haven't been by."

"You're a busy man, detective. It's understandable." Flip paused for just a moment in his movements when he heard you address him as detective. He was rock hard again; he shifted uncomfortably, trying to adjust himself in his jeans as he hung up his keys on their designated spot by the door, back turned toward you.

"Apple pie again?" Trying to act normal was unbelievably hard when all one could think about was fucking the person they were talking to.

"No, I was thinking about trying something new." He was the one that followed you into the kitchen. Flip was carrying the mail he had scooped up when he had opened the door, flicking through it with feigned intereset.

"The form's in the cupbord next to the stove." He directed

Flip couldn't help the quiet 'fuck' that slipped out when he saw you bend over, dress riding up and putting your glistening lips on full display; no panties in sight. You were such a bad fucking girl and he needed to be the one that would punish you.

Flip didn't even attempt to stop himself from sliding up behind you, letting his hands roam freely at your sides, grasping and caressing, before pulling up the dress even more so that it bunched around your waist. A small groan of appreciation slipped out past his lips as he kneaded one of your ass cheeks for a moment before delivering a swift slap to it.

"You are such a filthy girl, you know that?"

"But you like that, don't you?" The cheek of you. Another slap was delivered and you reciprocated with letting a moan of your own slip out. Bad girls loved being punished.

Flip grabbed a hold of your shoulder, forcing you up against him so that your back was pressed to his chest, ass against his dick. He slid his hand so that it was grasping at your neck, applying just the slightest amount of pressure.

"Love it." He growled into your ear before taking your earlobe into his mouth, giving it a little nibble. His other hand slipped down your front whilst the other kept you pressed up against him. You let out a delightful gasp of surprise as his fingertips brushed over your clit briefly before sliding through your lips, coating them in your wetness.

"Already so wet for me," Flip cooed. "Do you feel how hard you make me?" He pressed himself even more into you, making sure that you could really feel the stiffness behind his jeans and how needy he always was for you.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" He prayed that you would say yes, and, thankfully, you did. In a guttural moan that reverberated through his soul.

The sight of your exposed ass made him groan lowly, taking half a step back again so that he could get an even better look.

Flip couldn't decide what he wanted to do to you first; suck his dick or fuck you stupid? As much as he wanted you on your knees, he really wanted to know what it felt like to have your walls milk him dry after pounding as hard and deep as he could into you.

But you made the choice for him as you turned around and dropped to your knees in front of him, hands coming up to undo his belt buckle as quickly as you could.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" Flip smoothed the back of his hand down your cheek with a chuckle. "Can't wait to wrap your lips round my cock, huh?" You made haste, pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough so that you could pull out his dick.

And what a glorious dick it was, Flip wasn't ashamed to admit it as you stared up at him in admiration. To put it simply, Flip was in the possession of a big, fat cock. He was hung and heavy - even in his own hand. A fat head and veins that pulsed on either side, and a shaft so thick that you would've had trouble wrapping your hand around it even if he wasn't as hard as he was.

"Open your mouth for me, Baby." Of course, you were quick to obey, letting your mouth fall open and tongue lull out. Flip cradled your jaw softly, you were so pretty just like this. He slapped the engorged head of his cock against your tongue a few times.

"You want a taste of my dick?"

"Yes! Please, I-..." His name left your mouth in a moan before it was stuffed full with his dick.

You closed your lips around him and slowly started to suck. Your cheeks hollowed around him in way that was sinfully erotic all on its own.

"Mmm," he groaned out, deep in his chest. "That feels so fucking good." Such a small act and he was about ready to bust all over your face, the tending to he had given himself earlier was not helping whatsoever.

"Does that feel nice?" Your voice was practically husky with feigned innocence as you looked up at him under eyelids hooded with lust.

"So fucking nice." Flip let his head fall back to face the ceiling, knees practically going weak as he felt you lick a long, wet, and thick stripe from the very base of him up to the small slit at the end. He had to grab on to the counter when you took him, all of him that you could manage, into your hot and wet mouth.

It was obvious that you wanted every inch of him that you could get, forcing him down your throat as far as he would go.

"Holy-" Heaven was a place where you sucked his dick. Of course, being the courteous woman that you were, you weren't neglectful to his balls either. The hand that had been gripping whatever couldn't fit in your mouth drifted down toward his sack, cupping it gently before you rolled it through your fingers.

"You like that, Mr. Zimmerman?"

He really fucking like it. Flip withdrew from you for just a moment as he grabbed a gold of his bas, giving his shaft a few quick pumps. You were practically transfixed as you watched him, licking your lips eagerly.

His hand moved to the back of your head, forcing you back down onto his length as softly as he could. He tried to control himself, he didn't want to come across as overly forceful, but he just couldn't control himself when it came to you. He needed to give you the fucking that you deserved, and you deserved to be taken hard. He could barely stop his hips from rutting forward the slightest amount as you took him as deep as you could.

So, Flip kept his gentle yet firm hold he had of the back of your head, guiding you through every movement as you stuffed your mouth full of his cock.

He could see the tears that burned in your eyes, and feel how your throat contracted around him as you gagged but you never stopped hollowing your cheeks or twirling your tongue around his tip when you would reach the top.

Flip could feel his climax building up rapidly but he didn't want to come in your mouth, not yet at least. He pushed you back with a pop! and a ragged gasp. Your breath was heavy, chest heaving with a wild look in your eyes.

"Such as fucking cock slut, aren't you, Sweetheart?" A wholehearted laugh tumbled out of him as you nodded with a pleased smile on your face.

Flip leaned closer to you, delivering wet and sloppy kiss to your swollen lips. "You want me to take you to bed? Or do you want me to fuck you right here, where all the neighbours could see?"

You hadn't even thought about the large kitchen window until now, but it didn't make you any less deterred. You wanted Flip to fuck you right then and there, no matter who could be looking; and it seemed as if Flip was thinking the same thing. He didn't allow a response from you as he manhandled you into the position that he wanted with the side of your face pressed down into the kitchen table, the same kitchen table that was in front of the grand kitchen window.

Flip let his hand glide down the curve of your back, admiring you for another moment; pretty as a picture, that's what you were. His large hands grasped your hips, pulling you back against his body. You let out a whine as you felt the fat head of him slip through your lips, coating him in your slickness.

His hand continued its journey from your back, down your thighs, sending tingles through your entire being, straight to your core.

"Eager, are we? Need me to fuck you?"

"Yes!"

"Your so needy, Sweetheart. What would the neighbours think if they heard you right now?"

"I need you. Please, Mr. Zimmerman." You had to know what that did to him. Mr. Zimmerman.

Flip slapped his cock against your sensitive clit and yet another whiny plea left your lips for him to finally sheath himself into where you needed him the most. He didn't tease you for much longer; Flip liked to think of himself as a merciful lover, he would give you what you needed.

The stretch of him inside you was accompanied by a burn that was quickly replaced by a pleasant fullness. A fullness which was unlike any you had ever you had ever experience before.

"Fuck!" The yelp was accompanied by a slap of surprise to the wooden table. Your fingers turned into claws, attempting to grasp onto something that wasn't there.

"So damn tight for me. Taking my cock so well," You barely heard his cooing as he planted a kiss to your spine, too lost in the feeling of him. The smooth walls of your cunt hug Flip tightly. A particularly hard thrust into you causes you to yelp at the sensation of him moving so suddenly inside of you before trickling into a moan.

"So big..."

"Yeah? You like having my big, fat dick in you? You're such a filthy slut, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes, so, so good," You whined out. The places he was reaching inside of you had you hunching in pure pleasure, bliss glimmering in your unfocused eyes.

His thrust were slow and steady at first, allowing you to feel every inch of him as he dragged himself in and out of you. In and out. Flip thought that your tightness felt too good to be true. He had fantasised about this moment so many times but actually feeling the way you constricted every time he drove into you was better than anything he could've imagined.

You started pleading for him to go faster and harder quickly. Your desperation for him clear as you seeped around the base of his cock, down your thighs in rivers. He had a bruising grip on your hips as he propelled himself into you, as deep as he could go, driving deeper with every thrust. Your jaw goes slack after a particularly ferocious thrust. The room is filled with grunts and squelches as he continues to pound into you.

His sweat-slicked skin kissed yours, making the most obscene sounds bounce across the walls and caused your eyes to roll backwards. He fucked and fucked and fucked into you, keeping a steady and hard pace that pushed you over the edge so quickly that you were approaching another before you even knew it. Flip continued to endlessly fucking into you through it all.

"I'm gonna fill you up real good, Sweetheart."

Desperate moans and pleas fell from your lips in a slurred mantra of words, and you clenched tightly around him with every thrust.

"But first, you're gonna come for me one more time." Flip took one of his hand off your hips and brought it to your front. Hand making quick work to find your swollen clit and flick it between his fingers in small, tight circles. Your entire body tensed as you came again but Flip didn't let up as he continued to pound into you, chasing his own high. He didn't pull out as he came deep inside of you, he continued pumping instead, albeit at a much slower more languid pace, wanting to relish in the feel of you for a few more moments.

The two of you shared a moment of moans and whimpers through your orgasms, skin to skin, his lips to your back. You hummed happily, feeling somewhat content for the first time since you had laid your eyes upon him.

Flip didn't want to leave your pulsing heat, reluctantly pulling back so that you could stand up. You whined at the loss of him, feeling empty without him. Flip's eyes were on your pretty, swollen pussy until you straightened up, and only then did he tuck himself back into his jeans.

Your dress fell back down around your thighs as you swirled around, sending him another lazy smile. Flip couldn't stop himself from kissing you.

"So pretty." Another deep kiss was planted upon your lips.

He brought his hand down between your legs whilst pushing you back to lean against the table. He could feel the mix of your cum leaking out from you and he fingered it back into you, stuffing you with his thick fingers.

You bucked your hips as he bumped against that spongy spot inside of you.

"Fuck, Mr. Zimmerman!" He didn't try to make you come again, deciding to be kind to you, but he brought his wet fingers to your mouth, coaxing it open with a tap to your chin.

"So, so pretty."

Flip couldn't wait to get you in his favourite position, on your knees, back arched, and ass high up in the air.

[angelamajiki]

Damn that Bully Dabi and Hawks fic was an amazing read! I love it when you write them full on bastard mode!

Pro Hero Bakugou sexually harassing his weak quirkless secretary who does her very best at her job. She's good at it but Bakugou always looks mad (read: sexually frustrated). High on success after a good rescue, he wants to celebrate....

OR

Cop Bakugou sees a pretty little thing outside a club. She looks sus so he decides she needs a pat down. Maybe he'll plant something to blackmail her into doing certain favors. Very bully, very bastard Bakugou.

PARINGS: Pro Hero! Bakugou x Secretary! Quirkless! AFAB! Reader

CW: yandere, dubcon/noncon, dirty talk, choking, cunnilingus, overstimulation, scumbage bakugou, use of the word rape, quirkless reader, size difference, age gap, death threats, sexual harrassment, bullying, mindbreak, masturbation, office sex

AN: I’ll probably write the cop Bakugo at some point too! For now, mind the tags and enjoy :)

They say to never meet your idols and in retrospect, you wished you would have listened.

Try as you might, it seemed like Mr. Dynamight was never satisfied with your work. Admittedly, you joined his agency as his office secretary based on having a crush on the pro, but you assumed his brash nature would calm down in an office setting. You did everything he asked, obediently followed his every word, which was all met with harsh glares and what you thought were dissatisfied grunts.

Surely you thought it wouldn't be about your being quirkless, but rumors were high strung in the office about the blonde’s feeling towards those without quirks. It would explain the harsh glares and judgment he passed on you despite your work effort.

The man even went as far as to ask for your personal phone number, only to leave scathing voicemails whenever you couldn't show up to work or miss out on work gatherings he put together. You couldn't help but flush at the thought of him missing your presence. Maybe you were just bad at reading his signals? Or maybe he was just hell-bent on bullying you more than the rest of the staff.

The job paid very well, so you couldn't exactly up and leave based on his behavior. However, you did notice how...handsy Mr. Dynamight has become with you. It was subtle at first, brushing shoulders in the hallways, letting his fingers ghost against yours when he handed you paperwork.

It soon escalated to always having a hand on your shoulder, holding your hips when he had to brush behind you, towering over you from behind your chair when you showed him something. You couldn't say that you weren't flattered, but his rough demeanor remained.

It started becoming uncomfortable when he made passes at you, making sure you were cornered and alone when he did.

“C’mon, am I really that fuckin’ intolerable that you can't get lunch with me, pipsqueak?”

You assumed that he was just messing with you, so you always turned him down with a flushed face and ran back to your desk, leaving him blue balled and more desperate by the day. There's no way a pro hero like him would actually be interested in someone quirkless and weak like yourself.

But that's the reason why he liked you anyway. So small, so weak, so obedient, so perfect for him to fuck up. God, if he didn't want just to rip your tiny pencil skirt to threads and spear you on his cock like no tomorrow. A pretty thing like yourself shouldn't be working. No, no, no. You should be at home, in his home in his bed with his ring on your finger. You belong to him, don't you see that?

Katsuki only ever gives you the time of day, not those other stupid bitches who crawl up his ass every morning trying to get a crumb of attention. And what do you do with his precious time? Waste it. Always whining about how you really shouldn't, that he shouldn't be seen with someone like you. As if he gives a fuck about what the media has to say.

He even checks up on you when you're not at work! Isn't he such a gentleman? Sure, he's a bit vulgar, but he's trying to show he cares. But if you want to act like a stuck-up bitch, then he’ll gladly treat you like one.

After a particularly tough fight with a villain, the blonde wanted nothing more than to use and abuse you to get some steam off his chest. It was late, but he prayed to whatever gods were out there that you were still in the office. He left you a voicemail for good measure, hoping that you would do what you always did best and stayed obedient for him.

It was locked up for the night, but he could see your office light on from the street. Perfect. Such a good girl for him. Little did he know that you stayed late quiet often.

You hadn't even seen his previous call come through; you were too busy listening to an old one with plenty of derogatory terms being spat your way. A hand shoved in your skirt, you couldn't help but finger yourself the sound of his voice calling you moronic for skipping out of work. Mr. Dynamight was your childhood crush after all, you had jerked off to plenty of interviews of him in the past. Sure, it was creepy but no one had to know. The older man was so big, so strong and handsome. You couldn't help but feel fuzzy from the voicemail, even if it was degrading you, it was for you alone.

Speak of the devil and he will appear.

“Well, shit. Whadda we have here, pipsqueak?”

A rough chuckle came from behind you as he pulled your desk chair out and swiveled towards him.

“Caught ya red-handed, huh? Who knew you were such a little slut for me.”

Taking the phone from your hand, he hung it up on the receiver and took your hand out of your panties. He snatched your fingers greedily in his mouth and sucked your wetness off of him.

“You know what, I’m feeling a bit hungry. And you taste like something in the vein of what I’m tryin’ to have for dinner.”

Katsuki devoured you in a hungry kiss, lifting you out of the chair and onto your desk. He tossed aside the papers messily and spread your legs to see your slick moistening your sheer tights and panties.

“Bend over and spread that fuckin’ pretty pussy for me, pipsqueak.”

You shook your head, already feeling humiliated enough by being caught with your pants down, literally.

“That wasn't a question, that was a command, you bratty bitch. What happened to your manners?”

God did his words stir something deep inside you. Waiting was no longer a priority; catching you like this was proof enough in his mind that you were just playing hard to get.

“You should consider yourself lucky that I want you to sit on my face, you know that? I have bitches trying to get on my dick every day, but it only gets hard for you, pipsqueak.”

“I-I thought you didn't like quirkless people!”

“It's all the more reason I want to be balls deep in your cunt right now. So weak and pathetic, it's fucking cute.”

You could feel yourself tighten around nothing just at his words. He was right, you were just a pathetic plaything for him. Not hesitating any longer, he ripped off your skirt and threw it behind the both of you. Your tights also got ripped to shreds, leaving you in your blouse and panties.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous.” He muttered, mostly to himself as he took your panties off and pocketed them. For later, he thought.

Katsuki didn't hesitate to spit on your already wet cunt before diving into his meal. Each stroke of his tongue sent fire straight to your core, each suckle of his lips drew a whimper from your mouth. Hips bucked into his mouth before he held them down, using just one hand to cover your torso. So small and petite for him, how cute would you be up against his massive form.

“M-Mr. Dynamight!”

“Heh, so fuckin’ cute. Call me Katsuki, sweet thing. Or daddy, if you're nasty like that.”

Your hips were held taught against his face, not allowing you to squirm or inch away from his searing tongue fucking your hole. He continued to ravage you with his mouth, pulling away only a few times to give your pussy a nice spank. Groaning into your cunt, he stroked himself at the same time.

Humiliation had dissolved into pleasure as he serviced you, tears springing in your eyes as he gripped his head tightly with your hands and thighs. Having already masturbated before getting caught, it didn't take long for him to make you see stars and roll your eyes into the back of your head.

“K-Katsuki, I’m cumming!” You shouted, squirting onto his tongue as your body shook around his head. Your fingers threaded deeply into his hair and tugged as he continued to work his tongue into your hole, riding out your orgasm.

He didn't stop, though.

“Too much, it's too much!”

“I’ll stop when I’m finished, little girl.”

You tried to push his head away, but he gripped your wrists from under your legs and had you pinned against his mouth, shaking and screaming from overstimulation. Once he brought you another good nut, he pulled away and gave your clit a kiss, chuckling when you jumped.

Standing up, he pushed his mask up to pull his back and took his rock-hard cock from his pants. He spat on your dripping hole once again before lining up his fat head with it.

Katsuki hissed as he sank himself into your cunt, holding your hips in place as you whined and squirmed under him, still overly sensitive. God, were you gripping him in all the right ways. Your legs around his waist, your hands on his forearms, and your cunt around his cock.

“Relax, pipsqueak, or I’ll end up breaking you.” He chuckled. “But you might like that, huh?”

Seeing your teary, fucked out face while teasing you? He nearly jizzed himself on the spot. But he had to hold out for you. A choked gasp was all you could respond with as he got right in your face, breath tickling your cheeks as he looked in your eyes.

“Such a dirty slut, getting off to the sound of my voice. It's better in person, isn't it?”

“D-Daddy!”

Was all you could whine as his thumb made his way to your clit, drawing slow, gently circles with his roughed-up finger.

“Oi, oi, oi, did I break ya already, pipsqueak? Y’know, you coulda just asked for my cock like a good girl if you were gonna get this drunk off it.”

His hips slowly drew back, almost pulling out all the way before slamming back in, earning a squeal from you.

“Or maybe you wanted me to take you by force? Show ya what the fuck happens to quirkless little girls who tease their fuckin’ man so much that he just has to come and take their little cunt to show ‘em who’s boss, eh?”

You couldn't help but tighten around him from his words, squirming under his hot breath as he started to grind his hips up into yours slowly.

“Good girl, letting daddy rape your cunt so willingly.”

Katsuki chuckled, sealing a hot kiss on your mouth while he gripped your throat. His hips began to piston in and out of your pussy, thick veins grinding against your spongy walls.

His brutal kisses swallowed your moans and tears while he squeezed your throat. His other thumb continued to swipe against your clit in fast motions, causing your to clamp down and flutter against his thick cock.

“Shoulda known you were a whore from the start, wearing those skirts that hugged ya in all the right places. Bending over and letting me touch you how I pleased, it's like you wanted this to happen.”

The pace of his thrust increased as he started to chase his orgasm, holding your throat and hips down to use you like the hole he knew you were. He growled and snarled into your mouth as he choked you, even more, watching the blood flood to your face.

“Yeah, baby, I've got your life in my hands now. If you won't be mine, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Then nobody can have you.”

“Y-Yours! I’m yours!” You managed to gasp out, gripping his forearm and digging your nails into it, hoping he’ll let you up for air

“Damn straight, now cum for me, you quirkless little bitch.”

The haziness from the lack of air and the pleasure pooling in your gut sent you over the edge a third time, making you cry out his name as you came. Katsuki was right behind you, eyes screwed shut and practically foaming at the mouth as he came deep inside you, finally letting you breathe once he finished himself off.

You sputtered and coughed, desperate to fill your lungs with air as he pushed some stray hairs out of your face.

“Ya did good, pipsqueak.”

He praised, giving your ass a spank before pulling out and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“You’re coming home with me, so don't worry about the mess.”

“By the way, you're fired.”

TAG LIST: @tomurasprincess @suzuki-violin-school @sightoru @alrunemara

[nejiraez]

date night gone wrong | todobakudeku hc

@remi7k requested: Could you bless us with headcannons of the guys reactions (Bakugou, Shoto, and anyone of your choice) on a date with their S/O and the waiter keeps flirting with her in front of them and it’s pissing them off. Por favor❤️❤️

© all rights reserved, reposting is NOT allowed on any platforms along with modifying/translating and plagiarism. 

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

Bakugou doesn’t like eating outside food. He always prefers his cooking over the “processed crap” that fast-food chains and restaurants provide.

So if he were to be taking his S/O out, chances are that he’s not eating shit. He’d much rather watch you eat and be content while he just sips on a glass of water.

So, the one time that this grump is thoughtful enough to bring you out to eat on a date? His patience is tested and by the waiter of all people. 

Bakugou doesn’t appreciate the way your server keeps throwing you heart eyes whenever he passes your table. Bakugou’s not stupid, he has eyes just like the average person does and could see how attractive you were.

So the fact that you’d gain a few pairs of eyes on you was nothing out of the norm. However, the fact that someone was doing this so boldly, right in front of him? In front of your B-O-Y-F-R-I-E-N-D?

Either they’re thick-skulled and couldn’t pick up on the fact that you two came here together, alone, on a date, or they were provoking him purposefully.

Either or, it pissed Bakugou the fuck off.

“See?” Bakugou says, nodding his head across the room towards the waiter who kept giving you fleeting glances. “This is why I said we have food at home.”

“Relax, he’s harmless…” You say, nudging your elbow into your boyfriend’s side to shake him from the dirtiest, stank look he was throwing at the server any chance he could get. “He’s just doing his job.”

Oh, but Bakugou doesn’t think so. Not at all. His eyes don’t miss the way the waiter gets all fidget-y whenever he hands you your plate, or how his eyes linger lower than they should be whenever he comes to refill your glass.

Bakugou hates it all.

And God forbid if your waiter tries to flatter you with those “It’s on the house” or “It’s on me” lines when they try to woo you with free dessert.

Bakugou would be quick to snag the pint of ice cream from grasp, shoving a spoonful of the treat into his mouth. “She’s lactose intolerant. So, beat it.”

Knowing damn well you weren’t.

“--Katsuki!”

By the end of it all when he was paying the bill for you (to which he begrudgingly left a tip for, on your behalf and yours alone), he makes sure to take you by the hand, fingers intertwined with yours to say, “Okay, let’s leave, babe. This shit’s got me tired.” Ensuring that the word babe, rolled nice and slow off from the tip of his tongue.

Bakugou asserting his dominance all while being a petty, yet protective, boyfriend. ~

TODOROKI SHOUTO

Honestly, Todoroki’s gonna miss the first few signs that your server may be trying to get with his S/O. But that’s all because this man only has his sights focused on you.

He adores watching how giddy you become whenever your orders come by, or how you urge him to taste some of your food.

“So what’s the event for tonight? You two came down here as friends? Hanging out on a Friday night?” Your server would ask you directly, not really caring for Todoroki’s answer. His back would even be facing your boyfriend every time he swung around.

And that’s when things began to go downhill.

“Oh!” You laugh to dial down the tense atmosphere that had suddenly swirled around your particular booth. Todoroki was still, and you don’t miss the way his jaw tenses at the ‘friends’ title. “We’re actually-”

“I’m her boyfriend, actually,” Todoroki interjects with a clipped tone. He frowns at his food, picking at the plate with an uninterested glare. “We’re together.” 

You thought that affirmation would have been enough for the guy to cool it on his flirtatious tendencies, but God no.

“Ah, I can see why!” He casts a playful wink your way, “You’re a very beautiful girl.”

Your eyes bug out at his bold confession and a concerned smile graces your lips, all while Todoroki doesn’t even bother masking the fact of how peeved he is. 

Without his knowledge, Todoroki’s quirk is set off and the table is encased in a layer of his glossy, cold ice all from the power of his right hand.

An as soon as your waiter leaves you two to your own devices, Todoroki is quick to act.

He wastes no time in switching seats, to get up from his spot only for him to slide into your side of the booth that he could be seated right next to you. “How irritating.” He’d hiss under his breath, taking a harsh stab at his food.

For the remainder of your date night, Todoroki acts hard-headed, making the job for the waiter ten times harder than it needed to be.

Anytime that the waiter would try to hand you your plate or a new glass, this motherfucker absolutely would not move an inch.

So to get to you, the guy would have to go through him first, quite literally. That, or he’d have to politely ask your stoic boyfriend to move out of the way, to which Shouto would respond with a curt “Hurry on with it.”

You’ve never seen him act so out of character before (which was kinda attractive), the same law-abiding guy that you once knew was now prompting you to engage in a “dine and dash” with him.

To put it short, you two never stepped foot in that restaurant again.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

Midoriya would do the absolute most out of the three to show that you two are dating, as a means to shoo away his competition.

He’s not big on confrontation, if anything, he’d try his damned best to avoid it. So he would probably opt out of the option of telling the waiter directly to “quit hitting on his S/O”.

Rather, Midoriya would always bring up the subject of your next upcoming dates with him, whenever the server so happens to pass by. “So, for our next date, where would you like to go? Anywhere... away from here?”

And he’d play footsies under the table with you to try and induce a laugh to show how much fun you two were having, that, or he’d ask for your hand across the table so he could hold and graze his thumb against the palm of your hand.

He’s very passive-aggressive about this. Making sure that his love for you is being shown but in a very loud and brazen fashion.

Hell, he’ll even step out of his comfort zone and go as far as to ask you to spoon feed him so of your food. “Can- May I try some of your food?”

And if that shit doesn’t work?

“Um, excuse me, but does your restaurant celebrate anniversaries?” Midoriya would question once he’s managed to successfully flag down opposing male to your table. “Because you see, my girlfriend and I are celebrating our second year anniversary today and she was really hoping if you’d put something together for that.” 

The way you’d have to bite down on your tongue to hold back the laughter that threatened to bubble out past your lips. Watching Midoriya become all ‘territorial’ over you was one thing, but for him to go to such lengths… and to pin it on you?

Midoriya’s pride swells at the fact that a look of dejection flashes across the server’s face the moment the word “girlfriend” was left to linger through the air.

You’d have to sit and watch as the entire staff and kitchen would come out from the back, bringing you two cake and playing their song to celebrate you both, all while it wasn’t even your damn anniversary. 

Midoriya on the other hand was enjoying it all. Flaunting off your relationship with him to scare off potential homewreckers was the highlight of his night out with you.

© all rights reserved to @nejiraez​. reposting is NOT allowed on any platforms along with modifying/translating and plagiarism.

[tobesoalive]

latch (Sam Kiszka x reader)

hey guys here's the little Sam enemies to lovers smut that was requested! idc if it’s a bit cheesy, I had a ton of fun writing it so please please please send in more requests! I love helping your ideas come to life! 

Warnings: Smut (Oral-f and m receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex)

Friday had finally rolled around and you were more than ready. After a long week of classes and work you were more than ready to have some fun tonight. You and your roommates were going to have some people over tonight to celebrate your second year of college almost being over. You had come up with the idea last weekend and quickly made a list of who all should be invited. There was one person on the guest list that you were dreading to see, no other than Samuel Kiszka.

You had met a kid named Danny Wagner in your first class freshman year, and you two became fast friends, sharing many of the same interests and hobbies. Together you and Danny were a dynamic duo, and you always made each other laugh. People often thought you were dating, but he already had a beautiful girlfriend back home. Danny also had another person constantly attached at his hip, Sam Kiszka, you’d almost think they were the ones dating.

Sam was a lanky kid with sharp features and an extremely annoying god complex. He really thought he was the absolute shit and that everyone was in awe of him. Quite honestly many people were, but you saw right through it. You found him to be arrogant and rude, and you were always disappointed to see him when you went over to Danny’s place, even though he was his roommate. Sam would often show up unannounced at your place too, mostly with Danny, but a couple of times he showed up alone. You were always polite, inviting him in like the good host you are, and you two ended up watching a movie together, and much to your surprise, in these times he was almost tolerable. Almost. He would make a snide remark or joke that would infuriate you, but he wouldn’t stick around for long, usually having somewhere to be. That somewhere was usually the bed of another girl, but they probably didn’t just watch movies.

That was another reason you couldn’t stand Sam. Last year you had a crush on him and he would do the thing where he would play with your emotion, hang out with you and flirt with you only to immediately go and fuck random girls. It hurt you, a lot, but you eventually got over it, losing the romantic feelings, or rather pushing them deep down where you’d hope they’d never surface again.

Now people were going to be at your house in an hour and you haven't even showered. It didn’t really matter though, you weren’t all too concerned with what other people thought of your appearance, so what if your hair was a little wet. You quickly rinsed off in a cold shower, then changed into a simple outfit for the night, flared corduroys and a crocheted tank top.

That was the other thing, you’d think you were exactly Sam’s type, he seemed like he would be into girls who were more artistic and down to earth, but all the girls he hooked up with seemed like they spent most of their time thinking about themselves. Not that there was anything wrong with those girls, you weren’t the “pick me” type, but it seemed like Sam would care about that kind of thing. Whatever, you don’t even like him anyways, he’s more of a nuisance than anything.

You had finished a seltzer by the time people started arriving, the playlist you and your roommates curated playing throughout the apartment. Being with your friends always made you very energetic, and people always said they liked being around you. You could get a crowd laughing in no time. People were coming through the doors and when there were about 75% of the people there, your partner in crime finally arrived. “Wagner!” you shouted across the room in a dumb accent, already a little buzzed. “Where art thou good friend?!” Danny yelled back, matching your accent as you two finally made your way to each other, wrapping him in a friendly embrace. “Where’s your obnoxious sidekick?” you whispered into his ear.

“Don’t worry he’s here. I know how you were just dying to see him.”

“Oh aren’t I always?” you responded with a sarcastic smile

“I still think you need to give him a chance, you’d probably really like him.”

Before you could even respond, he was running up behind Danny and lifting him up by his waist.

“Well if it isn’t dumb and dumber!” you exclaim before Sam comes up and wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh come on (y/l/n), you love me!”

“Haha good one Kiszka, now why don’t we do something I actually love.”

“And what would that be?” Danny questions.

“Take a shot and dance our asses off!” you yell. If you were going to deal with Sam you needed to be a little more intoxicated.

You gathered your roommates and the boys and took them to the kitchen and got out the glasses.

“To friendship!” you yelled

Right then you caught danny say something quietly, and it looked like he was saying “Or more than friendship”

That made you stop for a second before throwing your head back and downing the shot.

“Ok let's get back out there” your roommate says as she pulls you by the arm.

You spend about the next half hour dancing with all your friends, taking hits of joints and drinking. You and Danny did a silly little dance you had come up with last year when you would get drunk in your dorms and do dumb shit. Mid-routine he slipped and pulled you down with him, both of you laughing your asses off. You felt someone grab your arm and help you up as the song changed, “Latch” by Sam Smith blasting through the speakers, one of the best party songs probably ever. The person who had grabbed you wrapped their arms around your waist, swaying back and forth with you to the music. You loosened the stranger’s grip and spun around only to be met with the face of that little shit, Sam.

“C’mon kid can’t you at least try to tolerate me for one song”

“Who ever said you were intolerable?” you respond, admiring how the dim light highlighted his features.

He leaned in close to your ear and lowly whispered in it “You think I can’t see it. Whenever you’re around me you act like it’s charity work.”

You pull back to look him in the eyes and say “It wasn’t always that way. Now let's get back to what we were doing. I like this song more than I like you, which is quite a lot.”

He gives you a grin before you start moving your body against him, and by the end of the song he’s staring at you in complete awe.

Once the song ended you broke free from his grasp. “See you later Kiszka” you say with a wink, turning around and disappearing into the crowd.

Your stomach was in knots, and not from disgust. The moment you just had brought up a lot of emotions, mostly about your romantic feelings for Sam but also the resentment you felt towards him. Fuck, you were in deep now. Things would be so much easier if you never had to see him again and all of this could go away. But alas, you needed to suck it up so you could still have a close relationship with Danny. Plus in about twenty minutes Sam would probably be grinding on another girl. Screw it, you were going to have a good time with your friends, you didn’t need Sam to be happy.

The rest of the night you avoided Sam, giving him zero of the attention he was craving. A couple hours later people were leaving your home or asleep somewhere in the living room, bathroom, kitchen you name it. Thankfully though, your room remained empty, you needed some space to think.

Everyone was asleep and the house was quiet, you threw on a pair of boxer shorts and an oversized Led Zeppelin shirt, passed down to you from Danny. You went to the kitchen and drank probably a gallon of water, making one last pit stop to the bathroom to pee and brush your teeth. No matter how tired you felt you knew you'd thank yourself in the morning. Finally you were on the way back to your room when you stopped in the doorway. Sam was standing in there, looking at all your decorations and your extensive vinyl collection.

“You’ve changed some stuff since the last time I was here”

“Yeah, I like to rearrange stuff y'know? keep it new and interesting.” You remarked, rubbing the back of your neck and yawning, trying to hide your obvious panic. This is the last thing you were hoping for, being confronted one on one with the man himself.

“Are you cool if I stay here tonight? Daniel is passed out on the couch and I don’t feel like making the walk home alone.”

“Of course...did you want to sleep in here?” you ask before you could even stop the words from coming out of your mouth. Fuck, you were a dumbass.

“If that’s okay with you, sleeping next to a stranger wouldn’t be my first choice.”

“You never had a problem being in a stranger’s bed before” you mumbled, looking at the floor.

He didn’t say anything, just turned his head to stare at you for a second, his eyes seeming almost apologetic.

“Well you might as well get comfortable” you tell him as you turn off the lights and flick the lamp on.

“Do you have a shirt I could borrow? I don’t really wanna sleep in jeans and a sweaty shirt.”

“Would you like an old one of Danny’s or one of mine?” you tease him, grabbing out yet another old band shirt of his roommate’s.

While he’s changing you turn away and busy yourself with lighting some incense and pulling the covers back, to avoid seeing his bare torso.

“Can I throw on a record? I can never get to sleep in the silence.”

“Help yourself” you say, but he already has a selection in his hands, Michigan by Sufjan Stevens, one of your favorites.

“Wonderful choice, but I imagine you’re a bit biased.” you say to him, both he and Danny were from the same town in Michigan and had to let everyone know.

“I just wanted something calm and serene, compared to all the fast paced stuff we’ve been blasting for the whole night.”

“Well it was a party Samuel, you have to give the people what they want” you tell him as you climb into bed.

Sam grabs for one of the pillows and a blanket, but you stop him.

“Were you gonna sleep on the floor like a dog? I don’t give a shit whether or not we share the bed.”

“I just assumed...I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable...or anything.”

“You might be surprised by this but I actually feel pretty safe around you” you confess to him. Fuck, you were still slightly intoxicated so your filter was off. It’s okay, he was still a little drunk too it seemed.

“Do you mind if I take my pants off?” he asks you with a sincere look on his face.

You can’t help but burst out laughing, finding his awkwardness and the absurdity of the comment quite hilarious.

“I’d prefer it to your rough jeans...as long as you’re wearing underwear.”

“C’mon I’m not that much of a freak” he says as he pulls down his zipper and clumsily kicks his pants off.

You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, he looked gorgeous quite honestly, long hair tangled, old shirt hanging off his shoulders and shark boxer briefs stopping at his mid thigh.

“Okay Kiszka, get in here before I change my mind.”

He pulls back the sheets and crawls in, laying his head on the pillow facing you.

“I’m sorry” he says, looking deeply in your eyes, seeming almost ashamed.

“About what?” you knew you shouldn’t feed into this, whatever was going on here was completely platonic and wouldn’t mean anything in the morning.

“Everything. Being such a dick to you. Leading you on. I promise that’s not me, I just, I honestly don’t know how to act around you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just the one person who actually kinda intimidates me. Or at least my feelings for you intimidate me.” he sighs.

“Is that why you are always fucking other girls and telling people about it when I’m around?”

“God you’re not going to take it easy on me, are you?”

“Why should I?”

“You shouldn’t. With the way I’ve treated you I honestly don’t expect anything from you, I just couldn’t hold it in any longer and I thought this was as good of a time as any.”

“Sam, can I be honest with you?”

“Of course”

“I actually don’t hate you at all like you seem to think. I can’t stand you because I really do like you, but I gave up on anything happening a long time ago.”

“Well you did a pretty good job of hiding it” he says, moving a little closer to you to the point where your noses were almost touching, the feeling of his breath giving you goosebumps. The music hummed softly in the background as you thought for a second.

“Sam don’t hate me but we’re both kinda drunk and I don't wanna do anything right now. I wanna be there for it, like fully there.”

“I was actually hoping you’d say that. I wanna take in every detail and remember it all. You’re not just another drunken hookup.”

You can’t help but give a soft smile, your cheeks going red.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be opposed to a bit of cuddling”

“Neither would I” he says as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close as you bury your head in his chest, taking in his scent.

Something overtakes you, and you tilt your head up and press a soft kiss to his collarbone.

“Goodnight Samuel”

“Goodninght kid” he whispers, pressing his lips to the top of your head, and you can feel him breathing in your scent as well, elated to finally feel wanted.

********************************************************************************************************

You wake up to sunlight streaming through your curtains, turning to look at your clock but instead being met with Sam’s chest.

You were sober enough last night to remember everything that happened, Sam’s feelings for you coming to light and vice versa. It made you almost giddy with excitement, not being able to wait until his eyes opened.

You played with his hair, running your fingers through it and moving it from his neck, replacing it with your lips. Soon enough he’s stretching his arms and yawning.

“Any reason you needed to wake me up at 7 am?” he asked you, looking down at you as the pad of his thumb brushed across your cheek.

“Just couldn’t wait to see you I guess”

“That's a first” he says sarcastically, once again staring deep into your eyes.

You could hear the birds singing outside and a refreshing spring breeze made its way into your room through the open window.

You stared at each other for a second longer before he whispered “Can I?”

You nodded your head yes and he dipped his head down to capture your lips in a kiss. It started off sweet and then your lips started moving in a rhythm, his hands grabbing your legs and pulling you onto his lap. He kept kissing you as your tongue made its way into his mouth, causing his hips to buck up into you. You pulled back and let out a soft sigh, basking in the feeling of him growing hard against your core. He took this as an opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, sucking at the delicate skin and leaving little nips.

“Can I take this off?” you ask him, hands grabbing at the hem of his shirt.

“Please” he groans against your neck.

You pull it off and instantly your hands run along the expanse of his smooth skin, admiring every freckle and mole, fingertips brushing across his nipples. You pull your hands away to pull your own shirt off, blushing a bit, slightly embarrassed to show yourself to him. He takes a moment to stare at the newly exposed skin, pulling you down into a kiss a moment later and mumbling “You’re absolutely stunning” into your lips.

“You’re not too bad yourself” you say with a smile spreading across your face, quickly losing it as you bite your lip when he starts to move his hips once again, his bulge rubbing deliciously against your already wet core.

“I need more of you” he grunts, obviously frustrated.

You tangle your hands in his hair and pull his head back a bit, looking down into his eyes before saying “then have me”, pulling him into a kiss.

In a swift movement he flips you both over, kneeling with his legs on either side of you.

“These need to come off” he says, tugging at the waistband of the boxers you slept in. As he pulled them off and the cold air hit your core, you couldn’t help but drink all of him in, admiring just how gorgeous he looked, as if he was sculpted by the gods himself. That moment ended when you felt his middle finger run lightly up and down your slit. You threw your head back and closed your eyes, concentrating on the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Please Sammy, I need you” you say, surprised at yourself for using that nickname with him.

He looks at you and smiles before lowering his gaze to your dripping cunt, furrowing his brows as he pushes his long finger inside of you. You mewl as he pushes it down to the last knuckle, letting you adjust for a moment before starting to slowly pump in and out.

“Fuck you’re tight. So much better than I imagined.”

“So you’ve thought about this before?” You smirk at him, turning your eyes to look at the sight of his finger pumping in and out.

“Quite a lot actually, I’ve thought a lot about how you taste too” he says before readjusting himself so his head is buried in between your thighs. It only takes a second for his tongue to find your clit as he inserts another finger and starts to pump a little faster.

“Fuck you’re good at this” you say as you let out a breathy moan, hands once again finding their way into his hair. That causes him to moan around your clit, sending vibrations through your whole body. You don’t know how much longer you’d be able to last, with Sam lapping at you like it’s his last meal.

You pull his hair, forcing his lips to part from your sensitive bud, pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

“I wanna taste you too” you say before getting up and kneeling on the floor in front of your brd, motioning him to sit with his legs over the side, facing you. You look up at him as you pull his boxers down, length hitting his stomach. You take a second to admire it, with its pink head, a large vein running up the bottom. It was a nice length, with quite a bit of girth to it, surrounded by a small patch of pubic hair. As you wrapped your hand around it you said “not to be weird or anything but your dick is gorgeous”, causing him to let out a light laugh that was quickly stifled when you wrapped your head around the tip of his cock. His fingers intertwined with your hair, lightly pulling it, not forcing you down on his dick like some guys do. You gently moved your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and using your hand to stroke the rest.

“Fuck I need to be inside of you” he groans, tugging at your hair, causing you to pull your mouth off his dick with a small pop.

“Can I ride you?” you question as you make your way back onto the bed.

“Fuck yes, I can’t promise how long I’ll last though” he says, pulling you in for another kiss as you line him up up with your entrance. You run his tip along your slit a few times before slowly starting to lower yourself down, taking your time to adjust to his size. Once he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he throws his head back, letting out a guttural moan.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“So have I” you say before starting to slowly move yourself up and down on him.

It’s lazy and sweet, not perfect or anything, but nothing about this situation really was. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Fuck” he remarks as he grabs your hips, fingers sinking into your skin,helping you move up and down on his delicious cock.

“You fill me up so perfectly, god you feel so good”

“I guess it was meant to be baby” he says with a grin, putting his fingers in his mouth then moving them down to rub circles around your clit.

“Fuck Kiszka, if you keep taht up I’m gonna cum.”

“That was my goal, I’m close too” he breathes out as he buries his head in your neck.

You clutch the back of his head as you start to move yourself up and down faster, fucking yourself on his cock.

“Fuck Sam I’m gonna cum”

“Me too babe, where do you want me to?” he asks shakily.

The only word you can muster out is “Inside” as you approach your peak, clenching around him once more before tipping over the edge.

It’s complete bliss as you ride out your high, feeling him give one last deep thrust into you before coating your walls with his warm ropes of seed.

You collapse against him, nuzzling your head into his neck, pressing sloppy open mouthed kisses as you both catch your breath.

He pushes your hair to the side, leaving his lips on your temple while he remains sheathed inside you.

“Thank you” he says, still regaining his breath and returning to reality.

“Don’t leave me” you say softly into his ear.

“I wouldn’t for the world, don’t you worry kid.”

You sit up and look into his soft brown eyes, taking in how much things have changed in the past few hours.

“I don’t hate you. Not in the least. I just hated the idea of not being with you.”

“Same here, but we don’t have to feel that anymore. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You deserve the world, and I want to try my hardest to give it to you.”

“Thank you Samuel, I’ll try to do the same.”

You give him one last long kiss before pulling back, pushing his hair behind his ear and saying “C’mon loverboy, let’s go get some breakfast.”

[handsmotif]

The Queercoding of Pinky and the Brain

This originally was just me infodumping to my friends on discord, but I decided it might be interesting to some people on here, so I polished it up and made it an actual essay lmao

To start, we’re going to break this into 2 sections -- the relationship between the mice, and Pinky’s relationship with gender, because queercoding doesn’t just mean gay!

For a 90′s show, Pinky and the Brain (and its mother show, Animaniacs) was very progressive for its time! But there were still lots of things that they couldn’t slip by censors, and thus, that’s where we have to read between the lines. And that is something I wanted to clarify here before we dive in, the actual meaning of queercoding. It’s NOT the same as queerbaiting. Queerbaiting is when the people producing certain media purposefully dangle the possibility of queer representation to lure in audiences (most prominent examples are BBC Sherlock, Riverdale, and Supernatural I GUESS? who knows abt that last one anymore), but never follow through, purely for profit. Queercoding is when media producers WANT to write in queer representation, but can’t, usually because the censors won’t let them. So, they must resort to subtext. (example: the policemen from Gravity Falls) It could also be unintentional, simply assigning certain characteristics associated with the LGBT community to characters. (example: Bugs Bunny, many Disney villains) Either way, it heavily relies on the audience picking up subtext, but whether it’s malicious or not varies, depending on the media. Bugs Bunny is an example of positive accidental queercoding, while a lot of Disney villains are negative examples.

Now, to actually discuss the gay little mice! Pinky and the Brain, whether it be intentional or not (based off comments from Maurice LaMarche, Rob Paulsen, and Tom Ruegger, signs strongly point to intentional, but it’s never been explicitly confirmed), is an example of positive queercoding.

There are many moments that I could pick out to discuss here, but we’ll start with some VERY on the nose gay metaphors. 

Remember Romy? If you don’t, that’s their actual biological son! Romy came about due to a cloning accident, where their DNA got combined and spat him out. 

There’s SO many things I could say about Romy. Every appearance he makes has an overarching gay metaphor as the plot. His first appearance in the episode Brinky (yeah it’s literally titled their ship name), it deals with his dads (WHICH I ALSO WANT TO POINT OUT, he DOES call them both dad, and they do both call him their son) disapproving of the fact that he wants to leave home and not follow in their footsteps of taking over the world. Brain even goes as far as disowning him whenever he tells him, which is certainly something a lot of queer people can unfortunately relate to. Also seen a lot in this episode is Pinky and Brain arguing even more than a married couple than usual, which pushes Romy away even further. Later, when Romy eventually does leave, and Brain starts to regret chasing him away, he tries desperately to reach out to him, but Romy doesn’t want anything to do with him. They end up tracking him down to an apartment building, where Romy is now living with his human girlfriend. When questioned about their relationship, the girlfriend, named Bunny, goes off on a tangent about how people shouldn’t judge others based on labels or relationships (hello?), and that Brain needs to be more tolerant. Brain apologizes and Romy forgives him. Happy ending.

Romy’s only other appearance is in the comics. Essentially, the plot of this one is that Brain wants to become the president of the local high school’s PTA, but he needs Romy’s help to make it look like he has a normal home life. He also enlists the help of Billie, the obligatory Woman introduced to make sure Brain doesn’t look as gay as he actually is, that he has a crush on. She pretends to be his girlfriend, and Pinky pretends to be Romy’s uncle, while they make up the story that Romy’s actual mother was lost at sea. Because if the organization found out that Brain has a son with a MAN??? THINK of the controversy! Anyway, the plan works, and Brain actually manages to get elected as president. Throughout this though, Pinky gets WEIRDLY jealous that Brain keeps brushing him aside for Billie. To the point where during Brain’s inauguration, Pinky actually dresses up as the wife/mother lost at sea and storms into the room.

[ID: Comic panels of Pinky, Brain, and Romy on stage at the inauguration ceremony. Pinky busts into room wearing drag, saying, “Yoo hoo! I’m back from years lost at sea to be with my son and ungrateful husband! Narf!” He then hugs Romy, while glaring at Brain. He goes on to say, “I’ll stand by your side, even though you left me behind!” The people in the audience begin to question this, saying, “Oh great fuzzy bangs!”, “What’d she say?!”, “He deserted her to be with that other woman!”, “What kind of monster is he?!”. Brain then rips off Pinky’s wig and says, “This isn’t my wife! This isn’t even a woman! It’s my roommate, Pinky.” Pinky replies, “Well, yes... But Romy really is my son! Poit!” And Brain responds, “N-Nonsense! He’s my son!” More people in the audience angrily speak up, saying, “What’s that?”, “He lives with a guy who likes to dress up in women’s clothing and the both claim to be that kid’s father!”, “Grumble! Mutter!” /END ID]

Needless to say, this doesn’t end well for them. What we can conclude from this is that homophobia exists in the Pinky and the Brain universe, and our characters are directly affected by it.

Moving on, And-There-Was-Only-One-Bed is a pretty common occurrence with these two. Their cage is big, they have plenty of room for two beds, but? They choose to sleep together? Even in some times where this has been inconsistent and they DO have separate beds, they’re always RIGHT next to each other. (what if we put our minecraft beds together ❤😳)

I would like to mention the episode, You’ll Never Eat Food Pellets In This Town Again! This episode is interesting to say the least. Deals with a lot of the meta of the show. Anyway. In this episode, Brain has a nightmare that he’s in a loveless marriage with Billie. You know, the woman he’s supposed to have a crush on. In the end, he wakes up from the nightmare in the same bed as Pinky.

Speaking of female love interests, Pinky is seen having multiple relationships with characters of different species. Any time this is brought up by Brain, Pinky counters with Brain being too intolerant. An honorable mention with this is in Wakko’s Wish, when Pinky is with Pharfignewton, and Brain’s constant pestering about their relationship could be read as jealousy. Pinky needs a mousy date, after all!

Something else I would like to mention is in one episode (I forget what it’s called, I’ll try to look it up later and edit this), Brain is applying for a job. The employer asks Brain if he’s married, and Brain hesitates before saying he “has a roommate,” but that he’s occupied with his own things, which then cuts to a shot of Pinky applying lipstick.

Leading into part two of this essay, Pinky’s relationship with gender! Pinky has always been very gender nonconforming, and loves to wear dresses, do his makeup, and make himself look pretty. For the most part, this is played pretty straight, and not as a gag, like a lot of shows tend to do! It’s just a casual fact about him that he likes to present femininely sometimes.

This does play into their taking over the world plans pretty often, where Pinky wears drag, usually either to sneak into somewhere. Like in one of their earliest appearances on Animaniacs, Noah’s Lark, where they pose as a couple to board Noah’s, and I quote, “love boat.” After boarding, Noah says to himself, “Who am I to judge?” Okay. Yeah. Alright. Anyway.

I actually had less to say on this than I thought I did, but I wanted to make sure to emphasize that Pinky at the very least is coded as being Not Quite Cis, and that he’s played a key part in helping a lot of people watching the show figure out that they’re also Not Quite Cis. 

Wrapping this up because I’m hungry, but I want to throw in some more honorable mentions that I really do not see any type of cishet explanations for:

They literally go on a romantic date at a very fancy restaurant in Brain’s Night Off. This is played extremely casually, and the only remark from anyone that they receive is that they are “much smaller than the usual clients.”

Pinky, on at least one occasion, daydreams about him and Brain being a married couple, and wanting to be a housewife (the original malewife ❤)

There’s an issue in the comics where Pinky has a crush on another male mouse, and when Brain gets annoyed, Pinky reassures him that he thinks Brain is cute and quite the catch too

Brain attempting to kiss Pinky in the reboot??????

Brain actually did conquer the world once in the Halloween special, because Pinky made a deal with the devil for it, and thus Pinky got sent to hell! Brain actually went to hell and gave up the world to bring him back

Brain was extremely close to conquering the world once more in the Christmas special, but after reading what Pinky’s feelings for him were (nothing romantic, just Pinky basically just praising Brain for being so hardworking and an amazing mouse, and lamenting that he never gets anything for it), he gets so emotional that he sabotages himself and wishes everyone a Merry Christmas instead

TLDR; these mice are very queer and need therapy, and are probably the most heavily queercoded characters that I can think of in children’s media.

[wizkiddx]

the worst case scenario

okay so this is possibly part 1 of a v v angsty dad!tom fic!!

WARNING: the section under the cut of this is v v v dark with mentions of death and some graphic descriptions of blood etc - please please don't read if any of these things may affect you <3

the part above the cut (the keep reading bit) is completely fluffy (a bit of childbirth but not graphic) so you could read only that first bit as a stand alone if anybody wanted to

dad!tomholland x reader

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“Stop laughing at me!!!”  Y/n exclaimed in mock anger before bursting out laughing, knowing she did look pretty ridiculous. 

“I can’t help it you just…. You look like an elephant!” Tom cackled from his reclined position lying on the couch, whilst his 8 month pregnant fiancé struggled to get up from her seated position on the floor - where she had spent the last half an hour wrapping presents for her nephews birthday.

“You know a supportive soon to be father would’ve helped me up!” Replying with a scowl that didn’t last long, Y/n finally standing up took the three steps to the couch before uncerimoniously collapsing into it. 

Grinning with this absolute sparkle in his eye, Tom leant forward and slid up to Y/n to pull her into his side. His hand came to rest upon her massive bump - at this point it was almost a rule that if he were touching Y/n he also had to be touching the bump. Tom claimed it to be skin to skin contact and although Y/n were pretty sure that didn’t come into effect until after the baby was born, she wasn’t complaining either. 

“It’s a shame your stuck with me then huh?” He murmured into the top of Y/n’s head, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head while tracing meaningless patterns on her shirt over the bump. Tom was beyond excited to become a Dad, family had always meant everything to him growing up (and now). There was nothing he wanted more , therefore, to call them a family of three - or more accurately four, not forgetting Tess of course. 

“Oh how I regret ever taking up that extra shift at the club” She mused sarcastically, enjoying how he feigned offence in return.

 The way the two had met was so incredibly cliche that it was almost painful, whenever anyone asked how they met she always winced internally. But it was their truth, Y/n had been a caddy at the golf course Tom frequented with his brothers. The nature of his ‘reputation’ meant the caddies always had to sign NDA’s to be paired with Tom’s group and the chosen few were those personally recommended by the golf course. She’d always stuck out to him, mainly because she seemed to be biting her tongue as they worked their way round the course. Caddies, also by job description, were not to speak unless spoken to; to be polite and courteous but not chatty. So, given how professioial she was, had taken some convincing for Tom to drag it out why she looked in physical pain whenever they played the 13th hole.

~~

“Look somethings on your mind I can tell! If you hate me I can arrange another caddy I just -“ He followed her march to back from the hole toward the little buggy, ahead of his brothers and Dad who were making small talk from behind.

“FINE! Okay fine.” Reaching the end of her tether, Y/n snapped, whipping her body round to face him. “It’s your grip! On this hole especially you always play the driver with you pinky too far down the shaft, it’s why you always end up in the bunker on the 13th! It’s bloody infuriating because them I’m the one that has to clean the buggy you’ve trampled sand into!”

“Oh…. I-I … I wasn’t expecting that” Tom had spoken quietly, in an unfamiliar tone to Y/n. Over hours she’d spent on the course with them over the months, Y/n had gotten used to his storytelling voice when recounting an insane experience to his family that he’d had in the world of Hollywood; his grumpy voice when he played badly, which was often; and then his gloating voice - most definitely the worst and intolerable. This voice though, was different.  

“I-I’m so sorry I have no right, I just-“ She’d out her foot in it …. badly. The young actor was one of the most clubs most prestigious and valued members; and she’d just insulted him. Clearly, she was also about to be in search of another job. 

“No no I appreciate your tip… I didn’t even realise you play?” His gracious smile calmed her nerves a little, though Y/n still wrung her hands together as she replied.

“Well we aren’t supposed to talk about it but the club let us employees loose after hours… I practice quite a bit”

“Seeing as you think my game is so shitty, you fancy a round next time?”

~~

Flash forward 3 and half years and a proposal, they were now taking their next massive leaps in the world together. Bringing a whole new life into it. It was bloody terrifying, they both openly admitted. But it was also exciting, new, incredible and… and made them even closer. Now they had to be in each others lives forever, no escaping. 

“How many days left?” Craning her neck back on his shoulder so Y/n could meet his brown eyes, she knew the answer would be immediate. 

“15 till the due date and the app said they’re the size of a rhubarb but I don’t really know what that means.” He knew more about the pregnancy and birth than she did. He had about a dozen different apps on his phone (including one pointlessly comparing the size of the baby to carrots/ watermelons/ onions), had read 4 different books (which for Tom was the equivalent to reading Newton’s book ‘philisphica Mathematica’.)

Ever since she’d told him about the pregnancy Tom had excelled every expectation Y/n had of him… massively. Without even having a conversation surrounding it, he had explicitly cancelled all major work commitments within 2 months of the due date and until around a year after. He had flown back and fourth across the world so he could pop in and check on you. He’d also set his whole family on becoming your minders when he was away - Y/n wouldn’t have been able to go a day avoiding a Holland (or Osterfield) if she had tried. 

The pregnancy thus far hadn’t been the easiest though, hence why Y/n still appreciated to constant worrying texts and calls. During the first trimester the morning sickness had been literal hell; and then you’d had a little bit of a scare with pre-eclampsia during the second. It landed you a 3 day stay in hospital and a very very panicked Tom rushing back from New York on the first possible flight. 

So now? Y/n wanted the baby out. She wanted family life as parents. (At which point hopefully Tom would stop comparing the size of your child to an assortment of different fruit and veg)

“You know, you really are going to be the best dad in the world Thomas Stanely Holland.”

“And you Y/f/n y/m/n y/l/n are already a pretty impressive mum.”

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It was 3 o’clock the next morning when Y/n awoke with a sudden groan instinctively rubbing her stomach in an attempt to get them easing up. Now too familiar with Braxton-Hicks contractions, the weird cramping that waxes and wanes but never letting her get any rest - Y/n knew she was in for a long night. With a muted sigh she carefully lifted Tom’s arm off her side, cautious not to disturb him. The poor boy had been up most nights with her, just because baby wasn’t letting her sleep, it didn’t mean Tom wasn’t deserving of rest either. 

So making furtive movements at a snails pace, she attempted to tip toe out the room - yet as Tom had pointed out before, she looked almost like an elephant, so everything was relative. Surprisingly though, she was successful, escaping onto the soft cream carpet of their hallway before choosing to venture into the room opposite theirs. It had once been a spare room, though more correctly termed the ‘shit room’ because that’s where all the accumulated shit they got was thrown. Now however, Tom and his brothers had taken on the mammoth task of clearing it out and redecorating - creating the most beautiful nursery one could ever see. Complete with a rocking chair which Y/n made a beeline for, now allowing herself to audible groan at the tight sensation deep inside her. 

Normally they would ease after a half an hour or so, yet this time, after what was surely more like an hour and a half they started to…. ramp up. What was a tight pressure sensation quickly became one more forceful volatile and full of pain. She put it off for about 3 or 4 cycles of these, pursing her lips and breathing deeply as she tried to convince herself they’d just simply fizzle away. This couldn’t be the real thing could it? It was too soon - as Tom had said she wasn’t due for another 15 days. It wasn’t happening… was it?

The answer was pretty comprehensively and cohesively given when Y/n tried to stand up, in the hope of walking the ache off, she felt an incredibly tight crunch as her insides seemed to wring themselves together. Oh … and a surge of water soaked her pyjama bottoms. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck FUCKKKK TOMMMM!! TOM-ah shit-  MY WATERS!!! TOOOMMMM”The pain had amped up to a very very impressive levels, forcing Y/n to clutch her sides as she kept bending and straightening back up… as if that would help. Her lonesome agony didn’t last long though, a flustered Tom hurtled in the room - his hair sticking up all over the place and although his eyes were puffy from sleep he still had them glued open impressively wide.

“No its-its too- its too early!” In pure disbelief, Tom shook his head staring across at her face, contorted in pain.

“Yeh because-“ She gulped and exhaled in as much of a controlled manner she could through pursed lips; before answering his stupid statement. “Because I can just HOLD IT IN FOR ANOTHER 2 WEEKS SHALL I?” It took a while for Tom to process, looking down at the puddle of clear fluid on the floor and damp patch on her plaid bottoms while it was Y/n’s turn to look upon his it utter disbelief at his stupidity. 

 “Oh shit shitshitshitshitshitshit!!!!” His words grew with increased volume and place whilst he stayed frozen, his arms reaching out lightly toward Y/n without touching her though. “What do we do?!”

He of course had revised repeatedly and extensively what he was supposed to do when this happened - yet in the moment all knowledge and planning evaporated from his mind. Now wasn’t the time for taking the mick of her terrified fiancé though, Y/n was too blinded by pain as she leaned on the dresser.

“Get the-ah FUCKING hell - phone we need to time them and phone the … the-MIDWIFE.” It was hard to direct a frantic and terrified man when one feels as though her insides are collapsing in on themselves. 

Tom gulped, nodding shakily, whilst trying to take deep breaths because although he was fucking terrified it wasn’t him that was giving birth. He had to step up now. 

It took barely 10 minutes from the midwife picking up to a frantic Tom for her to assess that they needed to get into the hospital asap. During the pregnancy, all of Tom’s rich friends had recommended paying for a private hospital like the ‘Portland hospital’. The idea was it was a much more luxurious and private experience - of course coming with a heavy price tag. For Tom money was not an issue, so he’d suggested to Y/n and met the strongest rejection of all his life. The NHS was by far the only choice in Y/n’s mind - of course it busier, a lot less serene and not as private; but if god forbid something did happen, that was where all the experts and resources were. The idea of being able to pay for better access to healthcare actually repulsed Y/n and everything she stood for… so in short Tom was met with a very blunt refusal. 

Once they arrived on the ward, all it took was one look at Y/n’s inflated belly and the way her body was squirming in the wheelchair Tom was pushing, whilst laden with the baby bags they’d had packed and prepared for weeks, for the pair to be rushed into a side room. After an intense 20 minutes of getting Y/n settled, getting her full medical history and inspection of her vagina the hmidwife’s head popped up from between her legs with a kind smile. She explained in a calming and gentle tone that Y/n was 5 cms dilated and had got to that point fast, yet now things looked to be slowing down a bit. With final words of advice of try to relax she left the pair to it. 

They both looked at each other, a matching expression of confusion and relative terror blatantly clear in both their eyes. It had them both burst out laughing, if Y/n then scowled at the pain that shot through her side.

“This is really happening huh?” Tom murmured as he rounded the bed to gently run his hands through her sticky hair.

“I don’t know unless you really do want me to postpone their arrival for a short while?” Tom rolled his eyes and shook his head, although not really able to surpress the chuckle at his finances humour - even if it was at his expense.

“Glad to see you can still be as sarcastic as ever.” He laughed but before she could reply another wave of contractions hit making her instead just scream - grabbing his hand so tightly Tom was certain a bone or two were crushed in the process. 

It was another hour or two of the same traumatic sight of watching the women he loved more than anything in the world be in such extreme pain. God knows how his appreciate for his mother grew in that moment - she had had four kids overall, two of them twins! Tom dared to think of the scenes in that room of twin brothers birth. Having to deal with both Sam and Harrys large heads…

Harrison had arrived in the meantime, he was to be the child’s godfather and Y/n was more than happy to have him there - even if it was more of a support to Tom than Y/n. Quite expectantly though, he was just as terrified and useless as Tom - so instead of having one idiot to deal with, the midwives now had double trouble of terrified men. 

And yet after another 1 hour or so Y/n was being told to make one final push. Baring down on the gas and air tube, Y/n squeezed her eyes shut together whilst simultaneously contracting every muscle in her body with what little energy she had left. Hearing Tom and Harrisons words of encouragement; the midwifes orders and her own long and continuous scream, Y/n pushed with all she had. It was excruciating and torturous yet she kept going until the most beautiful sound was the only thing left reverberating round the room. 

Her babies cry. 

Tom looked at the scene in awe, feeling an almost out of body experience as the midwife unfolded from her position leant over the bed looking up to Tom. 

“Do you want to cut the cord Dad?” Releasing a breathy laugh, tears collecting in his eyes he looked down at Y/n. She looked a mess - hair flying all over the place; sweaty sheen and a ruined look on her face; panting hard as she caught her breath. But to Tom? Never had he seen her look more beautiful, especially when she managed a small smile, nodding encouragingly at him. So he moved round to the end of the bed as the nurse motioned, while Harrison squeezed Y/n’s shoulder with the proudest look on his face. 

It was the first time Tom had ever seen his child. And really, seeing a wrinkly little pink thing covered in all sorts of gunge - it shouldn’t be such a magical moment. But here he was, a single tear escaping over his lower lashes at the sight of them wriggling about. The midwife gave him a second, before gently handing him the medical scissors and directing him as to what to do. Once done, the lady announced the room it was a beautiful baby girl.

The next hour or so was a bit of a blur, the whole situation felt extremely surreal to everyone - but perhaps most to Y/n. Although the baby was premature the doctors had checked and were confident was perfectly healthy, so after both Y/n and Tom having their turn holding her (Tom finally got his real skin to skin time) they brought in a little incubator where she could rest while Y/n was recovering. Due to her prematurity, as a safety net, the doctors did want to keep the baby girl in overnight for observation, which meant the whole party would be staying too. 

Y/n loved nothing more than watching Tom and Haz with their baby. The way they delicately cradled her in their strong arms and the way their eyes softened so inexplicably. Y/n swore that had she not just pushed a watermelon sized human out her vagina, the way Tom looked while holding their daughter would make her pregnant all over again.  

“I still can’t believe you two created a real life human.” Harrison mused while standing with the baby girl in his arms, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he watched her sleep soundly. 

“To be fair it was mainly Y/n” Tom laughed as he squeezed Y/n’s hand (wincing internally as it hurt his already injured hand - Y/n had an almost death grip)

“Oh no credit where credits due… he was involved for a whole 3 minutes or so.” Harrison snorted and Tom scowled at her, yet her cheeky if exhausted grin instantly erased any annoyance.

“Don’t make sexual jokes in front of our child!” He retorted, Harrison still laughing at his friend. Haz loved Y/n too - she made Tom a better version of himself. And now, she’d made him a dad. 

**triggering part starts here

After all the excitement of the early morning it was more than fair to say Y/n was shattered, Tom not doing much better. So after a little bit, Tom joined Y/n on the bed and they instantly fell asleep to the light beeping of their babies heart monitor. Harrison stayed in the arm chair in the corner of the room, wheeling the little incubator right in front of him to just stare at the little girl. He had been texting Tom’s family too, giving them details of when they’d be allowed to come and meet the little one, who had just woken up to all Tom’s frantic texts from the night before.

Eventually though he was ped ousnapt of his happy daze, looking over to the bed and seeing Tom groan as he shifted on the mattress that was technically only spacious enough for one.

“You good mate?” Harrison spoke in a low voice, keen not to disturb either the baby of Y/n - she had earned a bit of peace. Tom just mumbled in response, rubbing his eyes as he sat up before letting out a deeper groan.

“-hat the fuck” Tom lifted up the blanket covering them both as Harrison looked on inquisitively. But then Tom leapt off the bed, started violently shouting Y/n as he shook her in a look of desperation. It was violent and harsh, Harrison was horrified as he immediately stood up in an action to pull Tom off her. 

“Tom what are you-“

“Get help Haz.” Tom turned around to look at Haz, only at which point could the blonde haired boy make out why Tom looked so insane. Because his trousers, and the bedsheets that were now not hidden by the blankets, was covered in a red sticky substance. Jaw dropping, Haz slalomed round the incubator to stand at the foot of the bed. 

It honestly looked like a horror scene. Y/n’s lower half was completely saturated in a bright red liquid that slowly was creeping further and further through the sheets. Her face looked pale, Haz cursing himself for not noticing earlier and her breathing… it looked so slow it was barely noticeable. The silence was only endured for a few moments, before Tom turned back to violently shaking the dead weight below him yelling her name repeatedly and frantically. 

As soon as the alarm was raised more and more staff piled into the room, each one carrying a new level of importance and seniority - instantly taking control of the room and shouting orders. Tom had long since been pulled away from the bed by a nurse, who was trying to speak to him and calm him down, but was completely ignored as he focused on the scene over their shoulder.

“Looking like a primary PP bleed but she’s lost at least 3 pints already…. Somone bleep the aenestists and lets get moving to the OR please!.. We’ll need bloods crossmatch 5 units….”  

Tom heard to the controlled sense of urgency in the lead doctors voice and he felt as though his heart was being torn straight from his chest. Harrison took over from the nurse, half restraining - half hugging him as the nurse ushered them completely out the room.  Shouting over Tom’s desperate pleas to let the doctors do their thing. He fought hard against Harrison but ultimately his hold was enough to keep him back, the two watching from he corridor as Y/n’s bed was wheeled rapidly out the room - what seemed like at least 12 staff members bustling after it.

Harrison knew it was hopeless to try and talk to Tom, as he paced up and down the ‘relatives room’ the two had been confined to. They didn’t have a clue what was going on, no-one seemed to want to tell them - making the worst case option appear the most likeliest in Harrison’s head. A nurse had said the baby, as yet unnamed, had been taken down the neonatal unit so that it was one thing less for them to worry about ; but refused to say anything about Y/n, saying a doctor would come and explain soon. 

It must’ve been 20 mins, even if to the two men it felt like a lifetime, when a round and short, greying man with big black rimmed rectangular glasses entered the room. Tom was too in his own head to even notice, pacing up and down the room while constantly running a hand through his hair as he tried to keep his breath in regular time - even if his brain was on overdrive.  It took Harrison calling his name twice to make him snap out of it, looking up with desperate pleading eyes to notice the stout man, a sympathetic smile on his face. 

“Are you Mrs y/L/n’s husband?”

“Fiance”

“I’m Dr Webber the consultant gynaecologist,  shall we take a seat sir?” Tom stayed rigid, standing opposite him in an offensive manner.

“She’s dead isn’t she?” At Tom’s cold words, Haz’s breath halted in his chest. It had been what they’d both been thinking, of course, it was natural when you see someone with more blood out their body than inside it. The doctor seemed a little shocked at his frankness, pressing his lips together as he let out a sigh. 

“No sir she’s not but she is very very unwell. Please, let’s sit down so we can talk about it because I understand it’s a lot to take in.” It took a couple of movements of Tom stood frozen staring but Dr Webber held firm, waiting until Tom took a seat next to Haz before he moved - drawing a chair from across the room so he could face both men. 

“First off I’m sorry you were removed from the room and put in here for so long but these situations are incredibly hard and to get Y/n the best care we needed the whole room.”

“Doctor I just… I just need to know what’s going on.” He couldn’t deal with the state of unknowing, Tom was going insane, he didn’t care for the small talk. 

“Sorry right, so what we think happened was your fiancé developed a condition called ‘placental accreta’. In simple terms, a bit of the placenta is stuck in the uterus and causes bleeding.”

“That much bleeding?” Haz couldn’t help himself from butting in, he knew this wasn’t really his place, that he was just being there for Tom. But at the same time that was his godchilds mum, it mattered. 

“Honestly? Usually not, Y/n had very severe bleed… So she has been taken in for surgery, where the very talented surgeons are trying patch up the affected blood vessels. I’m afraid at this point that’s all I can really say.”

“So… she’s going to be okay?” It was desperate plea for something that, even if Tom wouldn’t admit, he didn’t really believe - it seemed as if none of the three in the room did. 

“It’s not that easy I’m afraid. Assuming the surgeons can stabilise the bleeding and fix it…. with blood loss like she has suffered we… we don’t know what the effects of that will be. We tried to prevent as much damage to her brain and body as possible with transfusing blood into her and it was good that she was in hospital so could get treatment almost immediately…. But I’m afraid it’s simply too early to say. The first hurdle is going to be getting her out of surgery safely, only then can we deal with whatever happens next.”

Tom had so many emotions flashing through his head. He knew the doctor was trying to go slow to make the information a little more digestible  but it was all so bloody incomprehensible. So when the greying man asked  both men if they had any questions, neither took up his offer. Surely they both would after hours of processing and analysing but for right now? They were stunned into silence. 

“Okay sir, now I hope you don’t mind me saying this but it really is important for you to hear. You are now a father, as Y/n is a mother. This situation is never easy but as a first time dad I need you to be aware that now your fiancé can’t be your only priority. We are all here to support you but please, just remember that.”

Harrison was so glad the doctor had said that, it was so completely true - yet Haz knew he didn’t have enough power to have said it to Tom. The whole thing was impossible and at the centre was an innocent, beautiful but totally dependant baby. 

“What happens now then?” Haz had to ask on behalf of his friend, who was now completely overwhelmed. Dr Webber sighed, leaning back and rubbing his knees before answering. 

“If the surgery is successful it’ll be at a best estimate two hours before we will have news for you , then she will be taken into intensive care where everything else would be assessed and further investigations would happen. You can both stay here or go get food, maybe go down and see the baby in the neonatal ICU? I personally promise that as soon as any of us get any news you will be the first to know.” 

He was met with the sort of silence that makes you shiver. Sighing heavily, the doctor rubbed his knees, apparently preparing to leave. “This possibly one of the worst case scenarios that could’ve happened but Y/n is in the best hands and we will do everything for her. If you do think of anything you want clarification on, grab one of the nurses and they’ll come and find me.”

And then he left. 

The room was deathly silent. Harrison couldn’t dare to look over at Tom - he knew what he would see and honestly seeing Tom like that would only make it worse. God knows how long they sat in those plastic lined, lightly padded hospital chairs. Both in silence. Just thinking… or more like worrying… or more like dreading. It was Tom who actually broke the silence first, his voice barely audible but still the meaning was crisp and clear. 

“I can’t do it Haz” For the first time since the doctor was with them, Harrison looked at Tom, catching him directly in the eye. That hurt… Tom’s eyes looked so, so… hopeless. He knew what his broken friend was saying, but honestly Haz didn’t want to hear it so he did not respond. That didn’t stop Tom though, he continued. “I can’t do it. … I-I can’t be a dad without her… I just can’t.”

What the hell was Harrison supposed to say? There wasn’t really a guidebook to this situation. He was clueless. So, cautiously Harrison just leaned over, wrapping his arms round Tom as he all but collapsed into his friends chest. Tom was sobbing harshly as Harrison looked up at the ageing ceiling tiles, trying to surpress his own emotions because now clearly wasn’t about him. 

“You can Tom… you have to.” His friend didn’t respond, well apart from harsh sobs that racked his frame. And so Harrison just let Tom cry, folded awkwardly and uncomfortably over the arm rest of the chairs, occasionally yelling into his chest at the unjustness of the situation. 

It wasn’t fair. But it had still happened. And there was still a baby girl by herself downstairs. 

//////

is this okay or too much? I won't write another part if generally people think its a bit too dark!!!!