#the context is that they just moved in and they have barely any belongings

[ohitslen]

Sharing a blanket

Request by @volaenii ✨

Accidentally incorporated this to my uni au oopsieeees

[nightdiary]

relationship firsts with txt

word count: 4.2k genre: fluff, established relationship, mildly suggestive (at the end but nothing mature) author's note: had so much fun writing this one, hope it's just as fun to read! kind of went on a tangent with some of these but ... scratches head ... more for you to read! as always, feedback is greatly appreciated ^o^ enjoy 🤍

✧ yeonjun - sharing a bed

you’d like to bet that between you and yeonjun, your boyfriend was the braver one of you two. braver here being used loosely of course, and more in the context of yeonjun being absolutely unabashed in his affections and moves on you. shameless, to be more precise.

after all, he’d been the one to initiate your relationship. he’d also been the one to initiate your first kiss. organize your first date. say the unforgettable three words first. the whole nine yards, really.

“junnie, please,” you insist, threading your fingers through his and pulling him closer. “it’s awful outside, and my bed’s right here. my warm, soft, comfortablebed with your favorite person in it.”

“are you sure? really, don’t feel like you have to offer just to be nice,” he mumbles. his words are soft against the onslaught of rain outside, and you almost miss the timid edge to his voice.

he’s nervous, you realize with a start. your invitation appears to have thrown him off-guard, and it dawns on you that this is the first time you’d be sleeping in a bed together.

as if answering for you, the stormy sky outside splits open with another series of crackling lightning. flinching, yeonjun hugs his windbreaker tighter around himself, and you resist the urge to call him out for being stubborn. you’d spent the last half hour convincing him to stay the night, and after driving his excuses into dead ends, he had no option but to stay with his beloved partner instead of venturing out into the downpour.

tragic, right?

yeonjun and nervous aren’t exactly two things you’d put together. they can coexist, but not necessarily belong to one another. that being said, the strange predicament you found yourself in at the moment was making you worry.

“i promise,” you say, leaning in to peck him on the bridge of his nose. “now go shower. i love you, but you’re not coming into my bed with your outside clothes.”

as a freshly-cleaned yeonjun steps into your bedroom a half hour later, you try not to let your wandering eyes dip below his exposed clavicle. clearing your throat, you busy yourself with changing into your pajamas and slipping into your side of the bed, where you pretend to find interest in the miscellaneous belongings you’d strewn about your bedside table. now you’re feeling nervous.

yeonjun shyly perches himself on the edge of your bed, picking at a stray thread on your comforter. the image is so unlike the yeonjun you know, any semblance of your confident and shameless boyfriend now seemingly having been washed away. he’s replaced by a charmingly bashful version that you’ve only seen a handful of times before, primarily at the very beginning of your relationship.

it’s weird, and yet strangely endearing.

“there's room up here as well, y’know,” you prompt, snorting when yeonjun looks up at you like a deer caught in headlights. patting the space next to you, you pull back the blanket and smooth over the sheets, humming absentmindedly.

you hear movement a second later, looking up to find your boyfriend crawling up by your side and awkwardly shuffling under the covers. he lays on his side, peering up at you through his lashes and patiently waiting for you to join him. you take that as your cue to turn your bedside lamp off, plunging the room into semi-darkness.

you’ve just barely begun to make out the edges of yeonjun’s face when he shuffles closer, looping his arms around your waist and closing the distance between you two. his cold feet brush yours, and when you yelp in response, you’re met with a series of giggles that tell you there’s nothing to worry about.

“hi,” you say.

“hi,” yeonjun parrots, “you’re comfy.”

humming, you bring your hand up to massage the area where his neck meets his shoulders. almost instantly, you feel him relax even further into your embrace, dropping his face into your chest with a barely-discernable whine. got him, you think.

“does this mean i can sleep over more often?” it’s hard to hear him from where he’s mumbling against your shirt, but you’ve learned to decipher his sleepy murmurs.

“depends, are you going to get shy like this every time?”

yeonjun’s answer is muffled yet again, and you’re unsure if he was saying something or just whining again. tapping on his neck, you feel him draw back to look up at you, smoothing your thumb down the side of his cheekbone fondly.

“m’sorry, it’s just that i’m not used to you initiating things like this,” he says. his hand finds purchase along your hip and he rubs his thumb in comforting circles. “makes me feel nervous but in a good way. it’s nice to see you comfortable while doing these things.”

“so you’re saying i need to step my flirt game up,” you tease.

“whatever you’re comfortable with,” he’s quick to say, and you feel the fondness practically warm you inside out. no matter what he’s doing, yeonjun will always be gentle and considerate.

“well, looks like you’re in luck,” you decide, pinching his red cheek (gently). “cause i’m starting to take a liking to this shy side of you.”

✧ soobin - moving in together

out of all the things that could have gone wrong, you wonder why it had to be this.

“the moving company got their date mixed up,” soobin groans. he tosses his phone onto the only piece of furniture you two had managed to bring up yourselves– a rickety desk chair from ikea– and you snort as the sound reverberates around the empty room. “they thought we scheduled them for tomorrow. the guy sounded really sorry though, and offered a discount for the inconvenience.”

rubbing at your temple, you try to ignore the way your exhaustion grows tenfold at the news. “i’m too tired to be upset right now,” you admit. the only thing on your mind at the moment was rest. and food.

ever since soobin brought up the idea a year into your relationship, it’s been a big decision in the making. truthfully, it had always been at the back of your mind; the intimacy of sharing a living space with your partner. you knew you wanted to take this step with soobin and knew that it would require months of planning and arranging for it to be realized, but you were prepared to overcome whatever came your way.

finding an affordable place that wasn’t a considerable distance from both of your workplaces was challenging enough, but when you finally decided on a few candidates, another series of obstacles were presented. landlords had complicated requirements, especially for couples who weren’t married yet, and that left you with even fewer options than you’d first anticipated. add a pet into the equation, and you could count your choices on one hand.

(soobin had jokingly suggested you two get married to avoid one of the issues, but more and more often you found yourself wishing he meant it.)

the place you’d found was quite short of perfect, but it was lovely and fitting in its own regard. it had enough space for both of you and your baby (odi), and it was located in a neighborhood that allowed you to easily access family, the workplace, and a recreational area. soobin was going to live there with you, and that was enough to get you to overlook the less-than-perfect parts.

sitting down, you thank the universe that the place was at least clean when you arrived. you rest your back against the wall and close your eyes, listening as soobin cycles through another round of phone calls in the hallway.

you don’t realize you’ve drifted off until soobin gently wakes you up by patting your head. groaning and stretching, you almost fall over from excitement when you realize that the room smells like food. not just any food, but your favorite noodles.

the room’s still disappointingly empty and the sky outside is getting dark fast, but soobin’s looking at you with a dimpled smile and holding up a bag of takeout from your dearest restaurant like a trophy. you can write today off as a good day.

despite the fact that you still have no chairs or a table to eat on, you and soobin arrange yourselves and the few belongings you’d brought into a formation that allows you to eat comfortably on the floor of the apartment. you didn’t exactly dream of eating takeout on the floor of your empty place on move-in day, but hey, things have a way of working themselves out.

“this would be a good place for that shelf you liked at ikea,” soobin mumbles between chews, pointing his chopsticks in the direction of the wall adjacent to you.

nodding, you set your box of noodles down and gesture to the area by the grand window. “right? i was thinking odi’s cage can go here. and we can put up some curtains to make sure he doesn’t get too warm.”

something in your chest lets up. rolling your neck, you ignore the painful creak in your back and blink through your tired haze to admire your boyfriend. soobin, who had tirelessly pushed through today and made sure things worked out the best they could. soobin, who made sure you felt comfortable and accommodated throughout the whole process, especially when things got physically demanding. soobin, who loves you endlessly and got you your favorite meal after a long day.

“i’m really happy we’re doing this,” soobin whispers earnestly. his eyes dart around the empty room before settling on your hands where they’re cradled in your lap. “even if not everything goes our way, i’m glad i’m going through everything with you.”

“we’ll work this out too,” you promise, and it feels hopeful on your tongue. reaching out to encircle soobin’s free hand in your own, you squeeze it reassuringly. and when he smiles back, you start to believe yourself.

✧ beomgyu - meeting his family

there’s an element of truth to the saying karma is a bitch.

partially, you are at fault. but the instigator at fault here really, are those stupid romance movies you’d watched with beomgyu.

an important thing to note: neither you nor beomgyu are fans of romance movies. if anything, you two are able to bond over your mutual dislike of the genre, no matter which forms you choose to consume it in. that being said, your decision to binge-watch and extensively criticize them was coming back to kick you in the ass. hard.

“i promise my parents don’t bite,” beomgyu had said, in a light-hearted attempt to reassure you. “my brother might, but i’ll bite him back.”

you weren’t able to formulate a response back without screaming, so you gave beomgyu what you hoped was your best convincing smile. five minutes later, you found yourself at the threshold of his childhood home, stepping into it with quivering hands and a smile so shaky you feared it’d turn into a frown the second you relaxed.

here’s the thing. you’d always found it silly when couples met the parents in movies. you’d told your boyfriend that it was overexaggerated. cringy. unrealistic. sitting through the scenes made your skin physically crawl, especially when the characters purposefully got themselves into situations that evoked the strongest sense of second-hand embarrassment you’d ever gotten.

however, the worst part, inarguably, was the parents. without fail, every time, they were handpicked to be teeming with the most awful traits known to man. you understood it was purely for entertainment purposes, but god did it drive you up the wall.

tldr: you and beomgyu think romance movies are silly. you in particular think the meeting the parents scenes are the worst.

almost ironically, here you are, a solid five months into your relationship with beomgyu, meeting his parents.

they’re warm and inviting and the complete opposite of what your self-sabotaging brain had expected. his mother hugs you like you’ve known each other for years, smiling at you with a gentleness that makes your heart feel all funny. his father’s equally excited to meet you, eagerly ushering you into the house and bumbling about a much-needed tour (and a whole bunch of other things, but you’re still panicking and barely picking up anything else).

beomgyu remains at your side the entire time, hand securely held in his own as you shuffle after his father through the different rooms. you even get the pleasure of seeing beomgyu’s childhood room, which still retains a semblance of his younger self, encapsulated by the copious amounts of band posters and colorful figurines lining his shelves.

you’re joined by his older brother at dinner, who graciously introduces himself as beomgyu’s worst enemy and promises to show you blackmail-worthy material later. the meal itself is just as lovely, and you find yourself sheepishly reaching out for seconds and thirds when his parents encourage you to. the dishes spanning from one end of the table to the other are deliciously colorful and vary in taste and texture, and the thought of the family preparing for you in such a way has your heart clenching.

“this is freaking me out,” you tell beomgyu once the two of you retire to the guest room for the night. “why do they like me? why hasn’t one of them made fun of me for what i’m majoring in? are they going to hit me with it over breakfast tomorrow? because i’d rather not, i was really looking forward to those blueberry pancakes that your mom mentioned and–”

“babe,” he cuts you off, though not unkindly. his hands worm themselves around your waist, drawing you into a much-needed embrace.

letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you rest your forehead against his shoulder and allow yourself a moment of vulnerability.

“i wasn’t just saying things when i told you they’d love you,” he murmurs. you feel him beginning to gently sway you side to side, and you let yourself become boneless in his hold. “you’re perfect for me, and i’m perfect for you. it’s not hard for them to tell.”

nodding, you try to even out your breathing to match his. after a few minutes of silent rocking, your boyfriend pulls back to look at you head-on, and your heart leaps into your throat at the sheer fondness in his expression. even in the darkness, his eyes gleam with adoration and you find yourself overwhelmed with love yet again.

“thank you,” you say earnestly. you hope beomgyu understands how much this means to you.

the next morning, you’re finally able to indulge in a choi family breakfast (featuring their infamous blueberry pancakes and breakfast tarts). the table isn’t filled with hostile comments regarding the ins and outs of who you are, but rather genuine inquiries into your field of specialty and interests. beomgyu and his family listen attentively, responding in their own unique ways and furthering the conversation with interesting bits about themselves.

you feel beomgyu’s eyes following you throughout the entire morning, straying only once his attention’s called for by his parents. you spend most of your time at the table, exchanging embarrassing stories with his brother, and before you know it, it’s already noon.

you and beomgyu are tasked with washing the dishes while the rest of the family head up to get dressed for the afternoon activity that your boyfriend had suggested. for the most part, it’s slow and quiet, just like the rest of the morning. you’re bringing over the mugs when it happens– beomgyu moves in and readily corners you against the counter, grinning mischievously when you go red all over.

“i’m starting to regret bringing you here,” he whispers, and you feel yourself freeze as the sound of footsteps approaches the kitchen. “i can’t even get you to myself…”

“here’s that photo of him with his underwear on his head,” you immediately recognize his brother’s voice, and you rush to set the mugs down in the sink before you drop them.

beomgyu whirls around with a glare so harsh you worry he’ll start wrinkling at 30, and promptly tries to rip the photograph out of his sibling’s hand. the kitchen’s soon filled with yells, and if you had no concept of who was fighting in the room, you’d think it were two toddlers.

you know it’s no use picking a side, so you use the distraction as an opportunity to slip out the back door and greet your favorite family member– toto.

✧ taehyun - saying “i love you”

there’s something on your mind.

you can’t pinpoint exactly when it started following you, but ever since you’d first taken notice of it, it hasn’t left.

it’s present in the little things; when taehyun’s mittened hand seeks yours out blindly, when his eyes follow you through crowds fondly, when the scent of his cologne fills the empty gaps of your life with familiarity, when his mouth wraps around the syllables of your name with care.

it’s everywhere even when he’s nowhere to be found; he’s the tiger lilies at the florist boutique on your block’s corner, he’s in the rhythm of the pop songs you hear at the grocery store, he’s the stuffed otter you hug to sleep on difficult nights.

it’s abstract and yet it isn’t. by all standards, it isn’t tangible. and yet you know you feel it when taehyun weaves his fingers tenderly through yours; you know you see it when taehyun’s eyes meet yours and the edges curl like crescent moons; you know it’s part of you when you feel warm and electric all over at the prospect of telling him.

you’re in love with taehyun, and you’re going to tell him tonight.

“there’s something on your mind,” he says, and the grin on his face tells you he already knows.

shrugging, you look back down at your phone, situated precariously in your lap. the bright numbers on your screen read 11:54 PM. six minutes to midnight.

“you don’t have to tell me what it is,” taehyun continues. “but you know you can tell me anything. right?”

“right,” you confirm, voice soft. looking over at the neighboring rooftop, you notice a group of teenagers beginning to spill out into the night air. “of course. i know that.”

five minutes to midnight. the december air is brittle with snow as it blankets seoul, coloring the dazzling landscape a muted white. taehyun’s coat sits snugly around your shoulders, warm and familiar, encasing you like an unspoken promise. even as your breath curls into the night in gray tufts, you can’t feel a semblance of cold.

four minutes to midnight. scuffing the edge of your shoe against the ground, you tuck your phone into your pocket and stand up. taehyun’s eyes follow you, but you’re too afraid to look back. you pace over to the railing and lean against it, breathing in deeply to steady yourself. your ribs ache with anticipation, your fingertips buzz, and your throat feels tight.

three minutes to midnight. somewhere in the distance, a loud shout rings out. the teenage company on the next roof over begins to light their sparklers, giggling buoyantly at the flares that spring up.

two minutes. your breaths begin to thin out, each stretching just a millisecond reach less than the other. your mind is reeling, positively overwhelmed with how much there is to say, but the diminishing seconds keep growing and you’ve got no time.

one minute. from inside, you can hear the tv program’s commentator begin to count down the seconds. stepping back from the railing, you look up at the sky. it’s dark and empty, void of any stars that should be there.

“i have something to tell you too,” taehyun whispers.

you blink the world back into focus. taehyun’s to your right, looking at you with the words ready on his lips. seoul is loud and brilliant, but you can only see him.

taehyun’s hand finds your own, and you don’t have to think. you love him.

“and i love you,” taehyun responds.

you don’t realize you’ve said it out loud until the birds in your chest spring free. the world around you erupts into a colorful blast of fluorescent yellows and reds and blues, deafening as the fireworks fill the sky with vivid spirals. your ears are ringing and you feel out of breath and your throat aches, like you’d just screamed away every last second into january.

“i love you, i love you, i love you!” your shouts are drowned out by the whistle and crackle of the ceremony unfolding above you, but taehyun can hear you and that’s all that matters.

the cotton of his mittens envelopes the sides of your face and he brings your lips to his own with a toothy grin. he’s warm and smells like evergreen pine, tastes like the cider you had earlier, and you love him.

✧ kai - first kiss

“i’m not making this a big deal,” kai pouts. his eyes flit across your face, and his brows furrow when he picks up on the nervous twitch of your lip. “i’m not, right?”

“you’re totally making this a big deal,” despite the fact that you feel like your heart’s about to beat out of your chest, you giggle.

perhaps, in retrospect, you shouldn’t have told your boyfriend about your inexperience surrounding kissing. though it was a conversation you knew kai would handle with utmost consideration, you felt jittery and nervous all the same.

the secret’s involuntarily revealed a few weeks into your relationship when kai tries to kiss you at the end of a date. in an anxious fit, you’d freaked out and backed away, but not for the same reason that your boyfriend initially suspected. after copious reassurances and promises, you’d told him the real cause behind your panic: lack of experience.

if anything, kai took your confession in stride. he’d hugged you instead and promised to talk about the matter later, when you two weren’t trembling outside of your apartment at midnight.

the talk in question was currently being held on the floor of your living room. the two of you are curled up by the foot of the couch, facing each other with varying degrees of red on your faces. there’s a show playing in the background, but you’d stopped paying attention a long time ago.

you’d told kai that you didn’t want to make it a whole thing, and that he didn’t need to feel obligated to do anything out of the ordinary for you. a kiss was a kiss, and whether it happened in the mundanity of your home or at the top of a ferris wheel, it only mattered to you who it was with.

you just wanted to get it over with, for both your and your boyfriend’s sake.

kai looks at you with something so tender in his eyes you feel your breath catch in your throat. as the last of your laughter dies out and the silence returns, you try not to think about how much you want to throw caution to the wind and press up against him.

“i’m going to do it now,” he announces, and you try not to burst into another fit of laughter. 

the ghost of his hand brushes by your nape, cradling the back of your head and thumbing at your skin soothingly. you hadn’t even noticed that you’d gone warm all over, and the contrast of his cold fingers against your neck makes you shiver. kai’s eyes meet yours questioningly, and when you give him an affirmative nod, he leans into your space with purpose.

it’s short and chaste and achingly sweet, but above all, more than you could’ve asked for. the pressure against your lips is unfamiliar but not unpleasant, and you find yourself melting right into the feeling. but it’s gone before your mind can catch up, leaving you suspended mid-air with a rushing heart, yearning for more.

kai draws back from the kiss with a nervous exhale, though he hovers in your orbit with a giddy smile, watching for your reaction. his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are chasing your lips like he wants to dive right back in, and you’re sure you’re in a very similar predicament. pressing your palm against your cheek in an attempt to soothe your burning skin, you shyly look up at him through your lashes.

“how was it?” he asks, the question spilling out between the two of you like a secret. there’s a vulnerable undertone to it that immediately has you sitting up and smiling reassuringly.

“hmm, i don’t know,” you say teasingly, with an embarrassingly breathless quality to your words. you reach out to brace your arms around his neck, toying with the soft tufts of hair you find. “you’re going to have to do it again, i wasn’t really paying attention.”

kai’s eyes grow the tiniest bit wide, but then his lips pull into an uncharacteristically smug grin as he moves to lean in again. “yeah? well since you insist…”

[gglitch1dd]

A Wishful Time - Pt 3

Omega Reader x Alpha Eijiro x Omega Katsuki

Context: In the peaceful village of Yuuie, you and your best friend, Katsuki, hope to catch the eye of the Alpha of your dreams. Kirishima Eijiro.

Note: This story is OMEGAVERSE. This story takes place in a historical non modern setting so please take note of that when it comes to the jobs in society that the characters take and how they act. Bakugou Katsuki is an OMEGA. Reader and him are AFAB but there is no smut this chapter so its unimportant right now

[Masterlist]

The kitchen was cleaned and finally no trace of tonight’s dinner was left in the great hall’s kitchen. It would normally be a rather calm atmosphere, with Omegas bustling around happily to keep the space clean again for tomorrow, however the sound of arguing Alphas outside the door was an evident one. It was loud, filled with growling and unnecessary increased levels of testosterone and dominant pheromones. You let out a sigh as you dusted your hands.

Katsuki wasn’t here, he wasn’t on duty tonight, conveniently. Most of the Omegas moved quietly, taking their aprons as they quietly left out of the door to the rather pungent smell of dominating Alpha scents in the air.

A loud bang went through the air as Kirishima Takeo slammed his fist against a table with a deadly look in his eyes. He pointed a finger over to Touya who stood opposite with his father and the other Todoroki Alphas there. “Touya is lucky the Aizawas and the Bakugous are so civil. If that was Tamami, I would have killed Touya with my own bare hands.” Eijiro and his eldest sister, Akari, both let out growls in agreement to what their sire had said.

Touya scrunched up his face at the thought. He rolled his icy azure eyes. “Don’t worry, I would never dream of touching your snotty faced daughter.” He spoke nonchalantly as he stood beside his father and siblings.

At the insult Akari and Eijiro looked right about ready to race across the table and kill Touya. Before Enji could even growl out for order amongst the opposition, Takeo put up a single hand. His face was set in a hard scowl, ruby eyes on the opposing side as he was silent.

“Yet you dared to put your hands on my son.” Mitsuki growled out as she took a step forward, hands on the table. Her crimson eyes zeroed in on Touya with a heavy scowl on her face so much like her son.

Touya raised his hands showing the bite mark that was still present on his hand. He pointed to it with a glare. “That fucking bitch bit my hand.”

Izuku let out a scoff. “You’re lucky that he didn’t bite your balls off, since you clearly don’t need them.” The comment made Touya and Enji growl viciously at the green haired Alpha. Aizawa put a hand to Izuku’s shoulder. He glanced at him, silently telling him it wasn’t worth it but he kept his eyes forward.

Enji sighed as he put a hand on his eldest son’s shoulder. He kept his head up as he stood beside him. “Although Touya’s methods were… a bit much,” Mitsuki scoffed. “His intentions were pure. All he wanted was to express his desire for the two Omegas as the future Head Alpha.”

Takeo watched from the corner of his eye as his son was practically vibrating in rage as he growled lowly at the thought of you and Katsuki belonging to the white haired Alpha.

“So for any Omega the Todoroki’s deem fancying they should just expect such treatment?” Rikkido asked, his large hands gripping his arms. The point he made seemed to resonate with others, clearly making the Alphas feel agitated at the thought of such occurring.

Shoto let out a breath not liking the tension. He didn’t have a choice but to stand by his family. Family was important and was the strength of its members. Shoto didn’t support what Touya did to you and Katsuki, neither did his mother or Enji’s other wives or Fuyumi or even Natsuo, but they wouldn’t dare to speak up against Enji. The bruises were one thing to hide but Enji was known for not being ashamed of his rather rage filled outbursts. “Omegas shouldn’t be moving around out of eyesight right now anyways.” He spoke out. “Especially with the Springtime Festival coming up and all the trading and visitation our pack will have, we can’t afford not to protect our Omegas right now.”

The Alphas continued their heated discussions amongst themselves, sour scents and heated glares and growls filled the space as they seemed so adamant on talking above each other or damn right just arguing. Inko, Chiyo and Rei all watched the Alphas as they growled and sneered at one another.

The three of them formed the three Omegan members that were allowed in the Pack meetings and gave their own inputs and opinions concerning the Omegas and fellow femmes of the Pack. Although they obviously didn’t have the biggest say in most matters and often than not the Omegas didn’t see the need to be part of the meetings as they trusted the heads of their families, their mates and siblings all enough to make decisions for the good of the Pack. Omegas didn’t exactly have a say few decades ago and they didn’t see much of a need to have a say now. However, it was times like this that their input was needed.

Chiyo, being the oldest amongst all of them and practical Head of Omegas being the wisest and knowing the most about Omegas and pup rearing, let out a sigh. She raised her walking stick just a bit above the wooden floors. She hit the ground three times, ultimately silencing all the Alphas around her. She looked around at all of them before letting out a breath, she stood up onto her feet. “I think you, young Shoto,” She started looking to the bicoloured haired Alpha. “forget that you, Alphas, have enough jobs to do to make this village run. Alphas and Omegas have different roles, different functions in society. Alphas run the businesses, head your families and protect this pack. Omegas run this pack in the shadows, do the necessary daily chores, birth and rear pups, keep our pack running. Realistically, Alphas cannot always be watching over their Omegas unless you think the Omegas should stay indoors all day and let everything else slip away.” She looked around, the room silent. She wasn’t wrong and they knew that. Realistically, they couldn’t watch over the Omegas like that. She then looked to the Todorokis who were also silent. She lets out a huff. “Nothing changes, other than young Touya.”

Before Touya could react, other families disagreeing about the whole ordeal and standing with the Todorokis too, Takeo spoke up. “I think,” He started loud enough to get attention. “That Touya can not be considered as a future Head Alpha.”

“Now here we go again, with that bullshit!” Enji shouted as he put his hands on the table glaring at Takeo. “You know Takeo, ever since we were younger you’ve done nothing but challenge me.”

Takeo kept his head up as he faced Enji unwavering. “I shouldn’t have to challenge you if you were right for the pack.”

Enji scowled as a loud vicious growl came out of his chest. He pushed off against the table making a loud noise. He stomped over to the other side, fixated on getting his hands on Takeo. Rei let out a soft chirp, reaching out a hand as she held onto his arm, trying to console him as much as she could and stop his madness. However, he let out a low growl, flicking her off of him, letting her stumble backwards, Shoto just catching his mother before she could fall. Akari and Eijiro let out low possessive growls as they stood in front of their sire protectively. Before they could position themselves in front of him, Takeo put a hand up, indicating that he didn’t want them to do such a thing.

Takeo moved forward, his arms at his side as he stood before Enji. Enji stood face to face with Takeo. The two large Alphas effectively dominating the space enough that everyone else was quiet. Takeo stood unwavering as he stood his ground, not affected by Enji’s snarling as he glared at him. They stood face to face, matching each other in size as they focused on the other.

Enji let out an annoyed tsk as he raised his nose. “The Todorokis have led Yuuie for generations and we will continue to do so.”

The opposing Alpha furrowed his brows. “Continue to do so? I don’t think so. The rest of us stay quiet on how you treat your wives and your pups, but don’t you dare think of bringing that and the rest of your ideals into the village, into the pack where they are not wanted.” He defended strongly.

Enji rolled his eyes as he sneered. “Please. We’re the ones who bring and force our ideals onto the pack? The other’s might have forgotten but I know your family history, Takeo and I know that you Kirishimas have specific taste.” At the statement Takeo’s jaw clenched as his glare tightened. Akari and Eijiro glanced at each other but remained silent, not knowing what was being said. Enji had no proof at what he was saying and that was the only council Takeo had. That and according to everyone around them, it was all just Enji drawling about nonsense. “What about you and your beef brained pups trying to step in on the Head family’s space!” He huffed.

It was true, the Kirishimas often did do things that were typically only done by the Head Family of a pack, but it had no ill intent and they never stopped the Todorokis from doing it. They visited Omegas who had just had pups or expecting pups, seeing how they could help or support in any way, they often than not looked after any pups while their parents were too busy with their own work and they were a looked to figure in the pack. However, the Todorokis often got annoyed and didn’t end up doing said things due to the Kirishimas and how well they were integrated into the pack.

“We support this pack, we do whatever it is necessary to help every pack member here.” Takeo defended as he motioned around to the others around him. “What about you and your fucking high horse that you sit upon. While you’re busy shoving around your wives, I’m doing something Enji!”

Enji stepped forward. Aizawa felt a building tension about to snap. “Now how about you stop talking about my Omegas and focus on your own breeder fat cow of a wife.”

Instantly the silence in the room was insurmountable as the tension rose higher than it had ever done before. Even Eijiro and Akari were silent as they looked between one another and then to their sire.

Takeo was silent, however his hands balled into fists as his body seemed to vibrate in pure rage. A barely contained growl was starting to rumble out of his chest as he moved his big hands so fast it was hard to even see if one blinked. Takeo had Enji slammed down against the table, his hand gripping Enji’s head keeping him down against the wooden table. His nails dug into Enji’s skin as he stared down at him with black soulless eyes, his grip threatening to one to dislocate the arm he was holding.

“What… did you just call my wife?” He whispered down in barely contained fury.

Aizawa glanced to the side to see you Omegas staying within the kitchen away from all the fighting and anger. He then caught sight of you as you held Tamami close to you. He flicked his gaze to Takeo quickly before looking back to you. You understood the silent instruction. The last thing you all wanted was for Takeo to kill Enji, at least not now. Not when a formal fight had not been established.

You turned to look down at Tamami who had been keeping to your side. “Okay, Tamami.” You whispered over to her. The young Omega looked up at you with wide ruby eyes, listening to your every word. “We need you to go calm down your sire. You think you can do that?” You asked the little twelve year old. Her red hair was short and fell to her shoulders and framed her face so cutely. She was still stuck in the stages of between a pup and an Omega so she would be perfect for this right now.

She kept her hands together but nodded her head determined. The rest of you Omegas who were waiting for the tension to die down, let her leave. Tamami was hesitant but made her way over to the table. She kept her eyes on her sire as she moved away from all the sour scents, moving around silently and almost unnoticeably. She squeezed her way through, past her older sister who looked down at her in surprise that she was here and so did Eijiro.

Tamami put a soft hand to Takeo’s side with a soft chirp. Immediately Takeo snapped his head to look down at his daughter. She looked up at him with soft ruby eyes, her soft apple pie scent with dust of sugar was released into the air little by little, trying to calm down the situation but there was an undertone of sour cranberry showing that she was also a bit distressed. “Daddy, it’s late.” She let out softly as she tugged on his tunic. “Let us go home.”

Takeo was silent, frozen in time for a second before visibly his hold softened and so did his expression. However, he did turn back to Enji with a sneer. He forced him back against the table with a low thud before Enji could even escape or think of leaving. “You and me, three days time, village centre.” He growled out lowly. Enji’s jaw tensed but he grunted in acceptance.

Takeo let go of the large Alpha before moving immediately to his youngest daughter here. He picked her up effortlessly, moving her into his arms to make sure she was safe and away from the eyes of other Alphas there. Takeo wasn’t stupid, he knew how some Alphas saw Omegas as young as Tamami.

Enji stumbled up with the help of the Iidas. He glared over at Takeo’s retreating form. “As I thought, keeping family traditions.” Enji snidely said.

Tamami put her face to his neck, trying to calm him down as best as she could so that he wouldn’t focus on anything Enji was saying, scenting him sweetly with small chirps. Takeo rumbled as he rubbed her back, trying his best to console her if he did make her upset. He focused on calming down his distressed pup, and that was his main priority. Eijiro and Akari followed after the two of them, knowing that all had been said and done for tonight.

Katsuki and you finally put everything you had made into a basket and made your way to the Kirishimas property. It was a bit of a long walk from the busy village central as you walked along the dirt path that led to some of the farms of Yuuie. The Midoriya acres were much further however the moment you started seeing a nice pretty red fence as well as a lot of green grass, you knew you were close to the Kirishimas. The dirt path had a canopy of the leaves from the trees providing you both shade as you walked side by side.

You looked at Katsuki who seemed nervous as he held tightly to the basket that you had both carefully arranged together. He kept his head up, trying not to seem nervous but you could see it bleeding into his scent. You shoved him lightly. “Katsuki, it’s okay. I’m sure he will like it.” You assured him.

Katsuki nodded before looking down at the attire that the two of you wore for today. A bit more formal than normal but then again, you were visiting another family. Katsuki had made sure to dress the both of you enough to seem casual and yet highlight all and any curves. He moved to take a leaf off your shoulder before focusing forward. “I just want everything to be perfect. It has to be.” Katsuki had a determined look on his face.

All Katsuki wanted was to get their approval, to prove to Eijiro and his family that the two of you were perfect for their son, or at least perfect mate material to push their son into your direction. It was a small fear that Mitsuki couldn’t help but remind him last night. The longer the two of you were unmarried, the longer you were unprotected.

You took his free hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He looked to you. Upon seeing your soft face and loving features, he couldn’t help but relax. He nodded his head as you both turned down the dirt path on the right towards the main centre of the property.

Huge green grass and weeds surrounded the Kirishima property with a fence to keep the cows in. You watched as cows stayed grazing in their pastures, some drinking water. The cows seemed rather unbothered. You watched as a Kirishima sister, what seemed to be Akari, stood with a bunch of cows surrounding her, petting one on the head as she talked to them as if they could understand her (they seemingly could since they answered back).

You both neared the house to see Nameer walking around with a pup wrapped tightly to his back as he walked across with a bundle of clothes in a large bucket. He turned to look at the two of you. The dark brown curly haired Omega smiled at the sight of the two of you. “Oh, hello you two.” Nameer was Akari’s Omega and had been happily mated to one another for the past four years.

“Good afternoon, Nameer.” You both greeted him with a bow at your waist. “Where’s Eijiro and Takeo?”

Nameer motioned a beautiful golden bronze hand towards a barn not too far away in the fields near the cows. “With the cows but they’re gonna come over for lunch soon. You can go talk to Yua in the main house, she’s making lunch.” He told you.

You both nodded before moving towards the main house. Around the main house were two other homes too. You saw Tamami with a bunch of small pups running around her feet as she placed the cleanly washed sheets up on the line. You noticed some Kirishima pups as well as pups from other families. They all giggled and chased one another, being careful not to dirty any of the newly washed sheets but stayed close enough to Tamami so that she could keep an eye on them.

You and Katsuki moved up the steps into the main house. Inside the home smelt of happy scents and a comfortable sense of family around. In the kitchen, was Yua who was mixing milk and mashed strawberries together.

The red-haired Omega stood in a comfortably dress with an apron over it. She didn’t wear her neck tie, exposing her mating mark that was reopened, red with the evidence of a fresh reclaiming from her Alpha. On her skin were love marks and bites littering her neck, shoulders and chest. Her scent was mixed with her Alpha’s making her beam. She looked up at the two of you with a happy expression. “Oh, welcome you too. I’m glad to see you.”

“Hello Yua.” Katsuki started as he stuck to your side. “May we talk to Eijiro and Takeo, please. We brought them a gift for all they did for us the other day.” He motioned down to the basket that was covered with a cloth but smelt of something warm and toasty inside.

Yua perked up at his words, pausing what she was doing to look at the two of you. It was then that you stepped forward with the two shirts in hand moving them over to her. “These were given to us and we’d like to return them.”

Yua took the shirts and smiled. “Well, let me call them in for you. We were about to have snacks for lunch anyways.” She happily chirped as she moved over to the doorway. “Tamami! Go call your siblings and sire please.”

It didn’t take long before walking into the main house were three big Alphas followed by a younger Kirishima Alpha, Hana, who was just two years younger than the two of you. The group seemed to be discussing something, not minding the small pups around them.

However, the notice of your two new scents did take priority of their attention. Turning to look into the room to find you and Katsuki standing side by side. Takeo raised an eyebrow before turning to look to his wife. He was shirtless of course and down his back were red lines almost as if someone tried to claw at his back. His scent woven in with his wife’s. He let out a questioning grunt with a confused tilt of his head, not bothered by the two of you clearly which was a relief.

Yua giggled as she stepped forward. “Takeo, Eijiro, Yn and Katsuki wanted to talk to the two of you.” She spoke lightly.

Eijiro perked up at the mention of his name before turning to the two of you. He tilted his head to the side confused as well. You both normally never came over to his home on any regular day, so this was new for him.

Katsuki and you raised an eyebrow before nodding. You both moved to your knees in front of the two of them. You lowered your heads down in submission and holding up the gift. “Thank you so much for all that you did for us the other day.” You started for the two of you. “We are so thankful for your intervention and support. Truly.”

“We just wanted to share our appreciation.” Katsuki continued, his voice softer than normal yet still held the low grunt to it that he normally had.. “We…” He tried not to get overcome as his face bloomed red. He looked shy almost, as he kept his eyes down. “We hope you Alphas like it.”

Eijiro’s eyes widened in surprise and so did Takeo’s. This was not what they were expecting at all. Eijiro couldn’t help but feel a bit bashful having two pretty Omegas bowing before him. It seemed like some weird dream he probably has had before. Takeo sniffed as he took a few steps forward. He tilted his head in interest at the smell of meat. Him and Eijiro took the baskets up out of Katuski’s hold, moving the towel away.

Laying still warm and waiting to be eaten were handheld chicken pies. They were still warm and smelt delicious. Takeo and Eijiro both released rumbles in approval, instantly rousing Akari’s attention who joined the two other Alphas. You were sure that if they had tails, they would probably be wagging as they crowded the basket. You watched Eijiro pick up one of the handheld pies. He tilted his head in interest before taking a bite into it.

It only took Eijiro a second before his pupils thickened and consumed his irises as he happily stuffed the rest of the pie into his face with a loud rumble from his chest. Takeo was next, happily chomping on the pie with a smile on his face as he ate happily. Akari moved to grab one of the pies but her hand was slapped away from a possessive Eijiro and Takeo, causing some discord between the three.

Yua rolled her eyes before clearing her throat. The three of them were reminded of everyone else’s presence, they glanced at one another than back at each other. Akari took off with the one she had already bit and handed it over to her Omega who had just walked in wondering what on earth was going on. You giggled at the expression of the three Alphas, almost as if they had gotten caught stealing cookies as pups. You looked to Katsuki. He motioned towards the doorway with a gentle smile, happy to see that they liked your cooking. You both sneakily grabbed two pies and moved outside away from the Kirishimas with an appreciative nod to Yua.

Once you were outside you noticed Tamami move with an empty basket towards the two of you. She perked up in surprise at the sight. A bright smile went to her face. “Hello you two!” She spoke chirply as a little Kirishima pup ran over to tug on the long skirt of her dress.

“Tammy!” The little wide eyed golden eyed pup whined as she looked up at her older sister. Chiyo put a hand to her stomach as she looked up at Tamami. “I hungwy.” She let out a small pup trill indicating her need.

Tamami giggled. “I’ll get you and the others something right now.” She assured the little one before turning back to the both of you.

“No need.” Katsuki told her as he walked over to stand near Tamami. He let out soft chirps, taking the attention of the pups as they ran towards him. Katsuki put on a gentle smile as he bend down to split the pie he had in his hands. He let out a soft purring rumble, lulling the pups towards him. He crouched down splitting open the warm pie carefully. He handed the first piece to one of Tetsutetsu’s younger siblings. The little silver haired pup accepted the piece with a grateful chirp, stuffing the piece of pie into his mouth. He let out a grateful purr making Katsuki smile at the little boy.

You moved over to Tamami, handing her half of the pie you had in your own hands. Her eyes opened wide in surprise. She put down the woven basket, before bowing as she gratefully took the pie from you. “Thank you, Y/N.” She said appreciatively as she gratefully ate the half you gave her.

“No problem, Tamami. You keep doing your best as a shadow, you’ve done a lot of us Omegas proud.” You told her supportively, making the younger Omega perk up in happiness with wide ruby eyes. You moved over to a very happy Katsuki who seemed to just beaming surrounded by pups. You crouched down next to him, breaking off pieces of the half you had and giving it to the pups too.

Eijiro rushed out of the house, looking around for you and Katsuki. He had gotten so engrossed with the pies he didn’t say thank you. He paused upon seeing the both of you crouched down with a whole group of pups around you, yipping in delight at the food you had brought them. Eijiro’s demeanour softened at the sight of the two of you. Katsuki had this beautiful smile on his face, one of those rare ones that Eijiro had the pleasure of seeing, as he wiped the mouth of one Eijiro’s younger sister. You giggled along with some of the pups that were practically licking their dirty fingers clean.

You both looked so good with pups around you. It’s almost as if you were both meant to be dams. Eijiro could see that. He could see it as plain as day. The three of you here, everyday with his family, surrounded by pups and him getting to see the both of you almost every minute of the day. Pups around you and you both carrying his pups inside you.

The thought made Eijiro pause.

You’d both look so good bred with his pups… His Alpha rumbled at the thought.

Breed Omegas.

“Oh what are you thinking about Eiji?” Akari sided up next to Eijiro with a smirk on her face as she folded her arms across her large chest as she looked down at him with a knowing look.

Eijiro perked up, remembering that his scent would give him away he shook his head with a low grunt, quickly covering up his aroused scent by one of annoyance. He glared at Akari. “Nothing.”

Akari chuckled. “Didn’t smell like nothing, little brother.” She commented, ruffling his hair making an angry growl come out of his throat, as he swatted her arm away from him. Immediately his older sister swung her arm and pulled him into a head lock. Eijiro fought back instantly, trying to pull himself out of her hold. She chuckled at his antics. “You better put your balls on straight and go ask for their hand.” She leaned down towards his head. “The last thing we want is a Todoroki getting something that belongs to a Kirishima.” She let out lowly, before patting him on the back and setting him free.

Katsuki and you had finally wiped the pups face with your handkerchiefs and were making your way back down the dirt path heading back to the village. “Y/N! Katsuki!” You both paused at the sound of your names. You turned around to see Eijiro running over to the two of you. You both paused as you turned to look back at him. You both lowered your gazes, exposing your necks to him in submission. He let out a chuft before stepping forward. “Festival… I…” Suddenly it felt as though Eijiro had no words. He didn’t know what to say. Why did he even come to talk to the two of you in the first place. He lifted up his chin trying to stomach some courage. “Thank you. I… I really like your food.”

You felt heat go to your face at the compliment. Katsuki lifted his chin up in pride with a soft smirk making you giggle. Katsuki took a hold of your arm. “We made it just for you.” Katsuki nodded his head before pausing, realising what he had just said. You giggled at his spilling of the truth. Katsuki glared at you as he moved to hide his face near your neck, away from Eijiro. “I-I mean… You and your sire, of course. Not just you. I mean, we thought of you when we made them but… we… I…” Katsuki turned as red as a tomato before deciding to just hide his face in your neck and ignore Eijiro altogether.

You giggled at the blond Omega beside you, rubbing your fingers over his knuckles. You looked back to Eijiro. “We’ll see you at the festival, right?” Eijiro nodded his head. You smiled. Your smile was enough to make him feel like he could faint. “Great. See you, Alpha.” You waved a hand as you stirred you and Katsuki away from him, heading back to the main road.

Eijiro watched the both of you walk off, almost breathless at the beauty of the both of you. Takeo walked over to stand next to him, dusting his hands before putting his hands to his hips. He motioned to the two of you before looking to Eijiro. “I like them.”

[darylsfavoritegirl]

Can you do a Daryl fic where you fuck and then he says he’s not into labels :( and it makes u sad and comfort

I love this idea !!! lesss goo

A/N: Sorry if these are taking longer than you thought!! im putting myself all in between the breaks i manage to get from school lol. I liked this personally, not sure if i managed to put out a good "comfort" though but there you go anon!

Your eyes flickered at Daryl's scars covering his entire back alongside of his tattoos that looked very much like to having been done by an amateur. You had been wondering their story for a long time now, yet never had the courage to question him vulgarly.

You moved your legs restlessly under the thin sheets, feeling his seeds sticking to your thighs and dripping onto the bed.

He was never at ease with such things. From the very beginning of your "relationship" that is, just warming eachother's bed on these aggravating days of the apocalpyse, where former human beings becoming foes to the geniune humanity. Hence, you always had to wait for him to leave first. There'd be nights so lewd, so scarlet that he'd feel adequate enough to let his guard down now and then. He'd fall next to you on the bed. He'd try to maintain his heaving chest as he'd cover up his downer body with sheets and would just lie down, your bodies so close to eachother, so warm that you'd feel sheltered against his bare skin. And then, he'd bend down to grab his denim jeans and take out the pack of cigarattes you'd looted from a walker's jackets earlier.

At times, there'd be enough to last you a week but at other times there'd be so little amount that you would share one. He would pass a cigaratte to you that he had taken a long drag of. You'd draw the cigaratte to your lips, savoring the tip of the cigaratte he'd moistened with his lips.

But on this specific night, both of you were high on joints. These thoughts entangled your mind as your attention shifted on the flexing muscles on his back while he put on a t-shirt.

You spoke your mind, without giving it a second thought nor being aware of his upcoming run with Glenn and Rick tomorrow early in the morning.

"Why don't you sleep here?" You uttered low, tracing your knuckles across the downy sheet incase he'd turn to face you, you couldn't dare.

"Why, are ya need in company?" He grunted in a headlessness manner as if to drop a joke. You despised how he practically didn't pay any attention to it.

You felt blood rushing to your face. The humid already made it unendurable to stay under the sheet and now this. You took deep, instable breaths.

"No." Your voice was unexpectedly trembling slightly. You shook your head as you scoffed. Now, he was facing you.

"It's just..." You were already in remorse, wishing you hadn't even started this conversation in the first place. You bit the inside of your cheek as you cracked your knuckles out of apprehension.

You felt his piercing gaze sticking upon your forehead, yet you rejected to meet with his gaze until you found something to say that didn't make you look, perhaps, desperate.

"It just gets lonely in this side of the prison." You uttered, finally lifting your head to see him buckling his jeans. You had expressed this countless times in conversations with a different context. Rick had decided to put you in a cellblock away from the others when you first joined them and he didn't change his decision ever since.

"Gon' ask me ta snuggle, too?" He quipped, a subtle sly smirk played on the corner of his lips. He tapped on his pockets as he scanned the small cell for his belongings that he might've dropped.

A sense of indignity overwhelmed you, leaving you feeling overstimulated. You couldn't grumble. He wasn't a boyfriend that owed you courtesy after screwing your brains out. He wasn't someone like that after all. Nonetheless, you loathed at the thought of a huge difference between men and women. How insensitive they could be, how insensitive he could be.

You were very well aware of your relationship, you'd both made it clear to not turn this into anything it wasn't. However, you couldn't resist the longing yearning in your heart.

"Jerk." You simply said as you turned your back to him. You placed your hands under the pillow, resting your head on it. All those thoughts, yet "jerk" was the only thing you made it through your lips. You locked your eyes on the shabby wall, slowly breathing as all you were hearing was his movements behind you. He was so dazed that he couldn't comprehend you nor your course of actions.

"Got'a get sum' shit done in the mornin'." He spoke to himself as he was wearing his leather boots.

"Ya know, with Glenn n' Rick." He added followed by his grunts as he leaned forward to tie his bootlaces.

"The sun shines on this side of the prison, too. You know?" You uttered quietly. Your tone must've caugh his attention as he stopped tying his laces and leaned back on the chair bit by bit. He sighed as he rested his hands on his knees.

"What the hell 's dis all 'bout?" He spoke low with an irritated tone. He scowled at not getting an answer from you.

You wrapped your hands around you, staring at him with softly quaking brows. He stood there with a clenched jaw, eyeing you with squinted eyes.

"Now ya dun' talk?" He spat, chewing his bottom lip as he grabbed his jacket on the bedside table.

"Ya damn well kno' how ta kill a good night." He scoffed derisively, hearing a exasperated sigh from you.

He turned his head to you, giving you a spine-chilling glare.

"Don't ya?" His voice grew taller as you observed the vein throbbing on his neck.

"Keep it down." You exclaimed, shifting your position on the bed in a rush. The bed sank under the weight of your knees as you incompetently tried to cover yourself with the sheets.

His eyes flicked through your bare body for a brief moment as he forced himself to look you in the eyes. You felt subjected to his deviant gaze, a sense of shame flooding your every cell.

"Nah." He firmly uttered.

"Rick threw ya in dis cellblock for a reason." His tone above a whisper.

" 'Cuz ya stir up sum' drama."

"All the damn time."

"Dun' miss a chance, like clockwork."

He locked his eyes on yours. Dark shadows roaming his face. Your face got hot as you had to wait to process his words, what they could've meant.

"Those joints have caused you a mental block." You hissed, not understanding even a bit why he would've say something like that.

"Fuck off." You shrugged your shoulders as you threw your body on the bed, leering at the ceiling.

"It ain't tha'." He uttered, you could sense him leaning against the wall.

"Then what? All this because I asked you to sleep with me?" Your hands met over your chest, crossed. You could hear his shallow breaths, contemplating the best thing to say. You knew he'd fail. A moment passed as neither of you spoke. He took a deep breath

" 'S cuz ya wanna go for childish fantasies." He grunted.

"Like 's sum' kinda game." He spoke, one could sense the palpable thickness of weariness in his voice. It was like he had questioned it a thousand time before you even brought it up. His heavy words lingered in the air, unraveling all the things he never even told you. You could sense it.

"It isn't." You abruptly begged. You needed him to know that you understood his way of seeings things, his way of seeing you. You knew you shouldn't corner him. You didn't.

"Forget it." He huffed with exhaustion as he left the cell.

"Night." You mumbled, knowing he didn't even hear you. You didn't even bother to get up and grab your clothes lying on the floor as you were nothing but flabbergasted. Your eyes were glued to the ceiling, hearing the cicadas singing outside of the prison.

A tear rolled down to your temple and your hand shifted to the side of your face reflexively. You sniffed your nose and shook your head in apace. You got up slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed fully naked. You sticked your eyes to the wall infront of you, fearsome of even uttering a word to yourself in this godforsaken cellblock.

You reached your hand to the panties he threw to the floor as all you could hear was muffled conversations from people on watch. You exhaled, the futile argument which broke out of nonsense didn't support your brain to not grow more lethargic thanks to the joints.

The world around you started to spin, leaving you out of kilter as you had to screw your eyes shut. You wore your bra and as you were done with clasping it, you drank what felt like a gallon of water.

You topped it with a dirty t-shirt and left your body uncovered to the humid of the south on your bed.

What did he think? That you were gonna be just fine with just fucking. How long before you started to feel things, that you wanted more.

You blamed yourself, too soon you thought. Maybe it wasn't. There was no way to know.

You woke up to the sun breaking through your eyelids. You fell asleep to overthinking hence the penetrating headache. You swallowed dryily as you tossed your body to the water bottle next to you and gulped it down agressively to a point where it dripped down your neck to the floor.

You spent your day within the fences of the prison casually, helping people run errands and talking about the run three of the solid men in your group went.

You were in the hall where you kept your food in, cleaning your pistol and weapons so that they're more handy. You furrowed due to your focus on the weapons when you heard a few sighs out of relief drawing near to the hall.

You lifted your head, awating to see who it was with your growing curiousity. Your face loosened at the sight of Daryl and lowered it to your weapons once again, exhaling subtly.

He put his crossbow and poncho on the table, fixating his eyes at you. You wrinkled your forehead, trying to ignore his existence but you were only growing to be distracted even more, with him standing there and observing you.

You suddenly lifted your gaze, exhaling exasperatedly with your hands sagging between your knees. Dirty rags and utensils accumulating a thick layer of dirt on your hands.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, sighing dramatically.

"...What?" You huffed, wishing nothing but to be left alone.

" 'M sorry." He muttered under his breath, making it impossible to be heard.

"You're what?" You let out a frustrated growl with his fancy words.

" 'Bout last night." He shrugged his shoulders indifferently, concealing every bit of an emotion peeking on the way.

"What about it?" You forced a downward smirk, trying to seem cool.

"C'mon." He simply said, looking rather bewildered with you. He looked as if he didn't know where to put his hands or what to do with his body.

"Your fine." You huffed, focusing on the weapons.

"I's bein' a dick 's all." He begged, taking a step towards you.

"Yeah you were." You scoffed tauntingly, not looking at his direction. You observed his boots and exhausted steps drawing towards you as you maintained your focus on the dirty rag in your hand.

"Ya kno' I'ma set things right." He was so near you that you had to raise your head to look at him. You were sitting on the frontstep of smaller cellar in the hall, he looked down at you. Your eyes filled with a flamey look as he stayed put.

"Per usual." You forced a sham smile, wishing he'd sense the sarcasm in your tone.

Seeing that he wasn't getting out of the way, you instantly got up as you rolled your eyes. You leered at him.

"Will you please get out of my way?" You hissed, maintaining a stern eye contact like a rock.

He remained silent without blinking.

"Dun' do dis." He mumbled.

You felt heat rising to your head, slowly gritting your teeth.

"So now it's my fault?" You barked between your heaving chest. You digged your nails into your palm, your face getting redder each second.

He remained silent once again as he placed his burly left hand to your waist, burying his forehead on your shoulder. As you were at the brink of pushing his body, hands softly grabbing him by the shoulders.

"A herd nearly took us out today." He breathed against your skin.

Your hand fell loose down his body as your eyes widened and you let out a soft sigh. His hair tickled under your chin as you felt him breathing shallowly against your skin. Your eyes fixated on the entrance gate as you didn't know what to say or do.

You felt your eyes twitching along with your bottom lip as his hot breaths send shivers down your spine, your body flooding with goosebumps.

"Almost got Rick." He added after a few second that felt like a decade.

"I'm sorry. I- I-" You made it out through a shaky voice as he lifted his head, his hand still gripping your waist.

"Ain't yer fault." He slowly ambled toward the table where he left his crossbow on.

"Jus' made me get mah head al' together." He spoke as if there was no one in the hall. He slunged his crossbow on his body and rubbed his face as he let out a frustrated sigh.

"There ain't no reason ta be a damn douchebag." He added, eyeballing you as he placed his hands on his hips.

You were left with thousands of feelings, thoughts lining in your head leaving you stay put like a statue with no form of life whatsoever. Your brows were raised, lip bottom still trembling yet you managed a hold on it. He threw his poncho on his shoulder as he got close to the hall gate.

"Come to my cell tonight." You insisted with soulful, intense eyes right before he left.

You saw him nodding his head discreetly as he chewed on his bottom lip.

[whatdudtheysay]

Obsessed

Getou Suguru x f!reader

Context- everyone knows you belong to him. But you're having second thoughts. Luckily, getou knows how to make all those thoughts go away.

CW - toxic relationship, slight manipulation, dub con, creampie, stomach bulging, dacryphilia ,

(not proofread)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

"Sorry, I'm busy Saturday night. But I'll see you in chemistry."

You watched, slightly guiltily at your classmate who thought he actually had a chance.

Private schools always had people apart of different clichés. You were lucky to be in a popular one. You were funny, smart, agile and the biggest, pretty. You knew it yourself and it gave you surprising benefits. Different guys offering to hold things for you. Don't have a pen? Three guys will offer one to you. About to open a door? Why do it yourself when one of the guys interested in you will do it for you.

Why didn't you have a boyfriend yet?

Because of the man in front of you.

Getou Suguru.

He was somewhat half your boyfriend. You ended up entangled in his arms barely clothed one night and ever since, he's become somewhat possessive. Anytime any guy tried getting closer to you, they'd end up in the nurses office or if worse, they'd be in an ambulance on the way to the hospital.

Lots of girls would love that though. A man who was so possessive over their girlfriend to the point where they'd hurt any guy but this obviously wasn't healthy for him. That's why every guy who approached you was cautious. Making sure there was nobody around when they tried asking you out. Afraid that getou would find out and then they'd end up on a hospital bed.

"Fuck princess. Easy-"

You glanced up at him before continuing to tend to the cuts on his knuckles.

"Not my fault you split them during another fight. Surprised your uncle is still putting up with you." You remarked, dabbing the cotton ball against the blood, internally cringing at the sight.

Once again. Suguru found out about a classmate that tried to ask you out and surprise surprise. The fight went from verbal to physical really quick. But luckily getou couldn't do as much damage, ending up with both of you skipping last period in the nurses office so you could dress his wounds. Privilege of being the principal's nephew.

"My uncles chill. And it is your fault princess."

You huffed and grabbed some bandages before wrapping them around his knuckles.

"How is this my fault, Suguru?"

Getou hummed, a smirk on his lips as his eyes practically devoured you.

"Well. You're mine aren't you?"

You finished the dressing before placing the bandages back onto the tray, finally looking at him.

"We aren't together, Suguru." You began, your gaze falling to your hands. "Besides, I literally saw you kiss five girls in one night at Gojo's birthday party last week."

Getou shrugged, leaning back on the nurse bed, arms slinging behind his head. "they weren't you though."

"that's the problem. You always have a problem with guys speaking to me but you can speak to every girl in the world."

Getou just shrugged once more, pulling out his phone like he always did when he didn't like where the conversation was going.

You just stared at him in silence, biting your tongue anytime you wanted to say something. It wasn't that you had nothing to say. It was the opposite. You felt annoyed at the double standards getou was forcing onto you. You couldn't even order a drink at your favourite bubble tea place because he thought the barista was checking you out.

"I wanna end this, Suguru."

He looked up from his phone. Brow furrowed.

"End what?"

"This." You sighed, "it's annoying and I don't want any guy that looks at me to get sent to the hospital."

Getou sat up, his phone placed on the table beside the bed, his hands then moving up your thighs to wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him.

"You don't mean that, baby. Know you don't." He chuckled, playing with your sweater, the only thought in his mind being that you still looked so sexy in school uniform.

"I do. I'm tired of this." You stated, more serious, your eyes finally meeting his.

Getou hummed before his hands left you, instead moving to fold his arms.

"Alright. I'll give you a choice. Leave right now and I'll leave you alone. But if you stay then you'll still be mine. Ok?"

You felt annoyed at his tone of voice. It sounded like he thought you were a child.

You would've left. You would've been free from his day after day fights. But why weren't you?

"Suguru-"

You didn't know how his words sunk into you so easily. How he was this good at changing your mind but here you were, skirt bunched up at your hips while your past orgasms dripped down the inside of your thighs, soaking your thigh highs while you tried to raise and drop your hips as you continued to ride him, the fat tip of his dick bulging against your lower stomach, showing just how deep he was inside of you.

"That's it, princess. See what you earn yourself when you be good and actually listen?" He questioned, hands groping the fat of your ass before drilling his hips up into you further, your toes curling whilst you tried biting back moans, tears falling down your cheeks which only made getou's dick twitch harder.

"What would you do without me, hm? You've already gone dumb and you're babbling. " He sighed, feigning disappointment.

He already knew it'd end like this. It almost always did. You got upset but he always managed to fuck it out of you, whispering lies into your ears whilst he fucked all the common sense out of you.

"You need me, you know that?" He groaned, feeling your walls clamp around him as he brushed against your cervix. "You think anyone else can fuck you as good? Bet those guys wouldn't even be able to make you cum."

Your nails dug into his shoulders, crying harder from the overstimulation.

"Please- 'm so-sorry! Can't take it anymore," you whimpered. You needed a break. Even a 20 second one would be better than enduring the attack he was targeting towards your sweet spot, another orgasm building up

"Hm, don't believe you," getou grinned, his hands suddenly stilling his movements which had you whimpering. "You close?"

You nodded frantically, hips selfishly grinding against him, shaking slightly when your clit grinded against him.

Getou sighed, taking his time in drawing small circles against your hips. He wasn't worried about you trying to grind down onto him. He had such a powerful effect on you to the point where he knew you couldn't cum without him. Without his fingers, cock or tongue. You were hopeless.

"I'll let you cum. If you promise you'll never try to leave again."

Your brows knitted together, biting the inside of your cheek. This should've been a wake-up call for you. But he had you so clouded by lust and his possession over you that you found yourself nodding eagerly.

"Promise, Suguru. Promise I won't leave you again " you whined, taking one of his hands to lead to your neglected clit. "Please lemme cum."

Getou chuckled before rubbing against your clit with his thumb, his spare hand on your hip to help you continue bouncing.

"Fuck, that's it, baby. I'm the only one who'll love you this much," he moaned lightly, thrusting himself up to meet your bounces, your mind going blank as his tip kissed your cervix.

You whimpered when he leaned in, kissing and lapping lightly at the stray tears that continued to flow.

"You're, ah, all mine. Gonna flood this little pussy with my cum, alright baby?"

You shook your head but getou's hand cupped your chin, bringing you closer towards him.

"Be good for me, y/n." He warned "How else am I gonna know you won't act like a slut for all those guys, huh?"

You whimpered once getou suddenly slowed his thrusts.

"Okay, shit, please, fill me up Suguru," you moaned, your hips moving faster in an attempt to chase after your orgasm faster.

The grin on his face was almost unmovable as he picked up the pace, his movements against your clit becoming harder as he fucked you into another orgasm, your moans lewdly filling the room. He wasn't far off, thrusting up into you harder, not letting up until his movements became rigid, releasing his seed into you, your body shivering at the feeling of his hot cum filling you up.

Getou rocked his hips up against you, making you mewl. His grin only grew when he saw his cum leaking out of you, running down his pelvis.

He suddenly tutted, a fake pout on his lips as he played with the hem of your skirt.

"Look at you y/n. You think anyone else would really want such a messy slut? Wasting all of my cum..." He sighed, trying to hide his smile when he saw your eyes gloss over with tears.

" 's fine baby..." Getou cooed, moving you both so now you were laid flat on the bed, his hands trapping you beneath him. "But since you wasted so much. We'll just have to go for another round."

More tears flowed while you slowly nodded, Getou's dick only growing harder.

"Good girl. Don't worry about the nurse comin in. She'll be gone for another hour."

[surrogate-fawn]

May I... humbly suggest #17 for the ask meme 👀

The Outlaw's Labor (Wild West AU)

Prompt: "I really need to change position"

Characters: Fawn/Newt/Hassan, in a poly marriage. ((Newt & Hassan both belong to @mittysins))

Context: Fawn is the leader of an outlaw gang, and just so happens to be the only woman among them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If there was anything Fawn could appreciate about the desert, it was the transformation it made after dark. The unrelenting sun would shatter into twinkling silver pieces all across the sky, the burning sand would become a cool ocean of silk, and the lonely wind came alive with the sounds of nighttime critters.

Fawn heard the wail of a lone coyote somewhere off in the distance. It was separated from its pack, and that made them kindred spirits. She glanced down the hill at the dying embers of the campfire below her, and at the circle of men sleeping around it. Her own empty bedroll lay open in the formation of snoring bodies, between the two boys she'd taken as her husbands.

A small smile graced her lips as she watched her lovers' slumber from afar. Newt had placed his Stetson over his face while his head rested back on his saddle. Hassan lay curled on his side, his long brown hair pulled into a ponytail and the handle of a shiny revolver nestled in his fist. Fawn wondered how the man could be such a ball of nerves but still sleep so close to a loaded weapon.

Her hands moved to cradle the underside of her greatly swollen belly, its curve hardly contained by the fastenings of her shirt. The denim didn't have much give to it and -- even though it was one of Hassan's shirts -- it just barely fit her gravid bump . . . especially now that labor had dropped it low and heavy on her frame. The only sign of pain throughout Fawn's entire being was the shallow sway of her hips as she felt the next contraction starting.

She'd been "keeping watch" atop that hill for a few hours, laboring quietly to herself while gazing down the length of the canyon. It weren't no secret she was keeping; hell, her boys had known the baby was on its way since that afternoon. She'd mostly kept her discomfort to herself all day, until her husbands had asked what was wrong.

Newt had convinced her to make the gang camp early, to give herself plenty of time off Sidewinder's back before labor got too deep. She was grateful he'd talked some sense into her, because she'd been much deeper in labor when they made camp among the hoodoos than she'd been letting on.

It's not that the labor didn't hurt -- it sure as hell did! -- it just wasn't anything Fawn found herself unable to handle. Her reactions to the intensifying pain were so mild, her gang was under the impression her labor had only recently begun. Why cause a stir by correcting them? What on God's earth were those lawless men supposed to do with that information?

While the men of her gang sat around drinking and playing rounds of cards until sunset, Fawn and her husbands had moved to a more private area of the canyon -- where she could feel free to labor away from gawking eyes. Well, except four of 'em.

For the five hours the gang had lollygagged around camp before nightfall, Hassan and Newt had never left her side -- Hassan, especially. He was the one who had gotten her pregnant, there was no mystery there, and he took that responsibility as seriously has he handled his guns.

Hassan's hands trembled with anxiety every time Fawn furrowed her brow in pain, and he'd startled at every tiny groan she uttered. For such a talented and imposing gunslinger, he could act as frightened as a rabbit in a jackal's den. His fear was evident in the fact he never laid a hand on her -- he'd been hesitant to touch her in any way since he learned about the pregnancy, as if she'd suddenly become made of glass. Instead, he'd stood a few feet away and annoyed her with constant suggestions on how to make her labor "easier" -- all of which were total nonsense. Where he got the idea that drinking water somehow opened the womb, she'd never know.

Newt was a more hands-on in his support, offering his wife reassuring backrubs while she rested between contractions. Naturally, he had more innate sympathy to the kind of pain she was experiencing; but he was a bit over-eager to help ease it. He seemed to be under the impression that digging his hands into her sides somehow eased the pain -- when it, in fact, made it much worse. During a contraction, Fawn had needed to bark at him several times to stop touching her before he finally got the message. After that incident, Fawn just wanted to be left alone.

For all their sweetness, her boys had really started to try her patience by the time the stars came out. She'd managed to convince them to sleep for a while -- assuring them that once her labor "started picking up", she'd wake them.

Yeah . . . she never had any intention of doing that.

She'd brought a child into the world before, her husbands hadn't -- but goddamn, if they didn't act like they knew better than her. As the one most experienced in childbirth out of that whole gang of ruffians, Fawn qualified to be her own doctor. She knew what the subtle cues of her body meant as it slowly worked her new baby out of the womb -- that ancient language of birth between mother and child.

"Oh, you're fixin' to come out before sunrise," Fawn thought, internally speaking to her baby. She rocked her hips a bit wider, a huff of air leaving her nostrils as she felt the harsh pinch of her cervix being pulled further over the mass of her child.

The contraction faded away, and the outlaw leader rested her back against a rough pillar of stone -- one of hundreds surrounding their campsite. Auburn ringlets of her hair had escaped the pinned updo she tamed her curls in, falling loose throughout the day's sweat and toil; but now, even in the chill of the night, they clung to the back of her neck.

"Actually," Fawn thought, "you might be comin' a lot sooner than that."

Ever since that morning a pressure had been rolling into her hips like a thunderstorm on the horizon, getting louder and deeper every hour. Now, it was barreling over her.

Another contraction started less than a minute after the last one. Fawn pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow, her hands continuing to support the weight of her low-hanging belly. She felt the heft of her child moving down. With her own hands, she felt the rough outline of its shoulder resting just above the bony squeeze of her pelvis.

"Mmm-hmm, you're comin' a lot sooner than that."

Fawn shuffled around the edge of the rocky pillar, hiding herself from the view of camp behind an outcrop at its base. Her hands moved from her underbelly to her belt buckle as she doubled over with a breathy groan -- the contraction reaching its peak of intensity and refusing to let up. She shimmied her trousers and undergarments down to her knees and held herself in a supported crouch against the jagged rock, her hands splayed out to either side of her.

Lightning flashed behind her eyelids as they closed tight. The pressure was thundering and insistent, pounding on her bones with every heartbeat. Then, the storm inside her finally broke.

Fawn let out a soft sigh of relief when she felt her bag of waters rupture. The immense pressure lessened in an instant as a gout of hot fluid hit the cool sand with a dull splash. Fawn let her head lull back, thankful to the Lord above that she'd thought to remove her trousers before it happened; they were her only pair.

She had no hope of getting her boots and pants off in her condition -- her boys had needed to help her with that for weeks -- so why fret over it? Besides, this would make it easier for her to hike her clothes back up and head into camp once she was done. There was no reason to be indecent around her men . . . her authority was threatened enough as it was by her pregnancy.

To outside eyes, she looked every bit a woman in a desperate plight: outlawed to the wastelands, a price on her head, laboring with no assistance, and preparing to give birth with her most of her clothes still on; but Fawn was the picture of serenity.

"Alright, rugrat, your cushion's gone. Can't be very comfy in there now," Fawn thought with a flood of anticipation. "Are 'ya ready to come out now?"

She gave a few experimental pushes as she felt the next contraction ramping up. With the third timid push, she felt the cold night air enter her canal as her body started to flower open.

"Ooh, yeah," Fawn thought, adjusting her stance to be wider, "you're ready."

When the contraction reached its peak, Fawn pressed her boot heels into the soil and bore down with all her might. She held her breath until she was lightheaded, stopped to exhale, inhaled, and pushed again. Her nails dragged against the rock as her fingers spiked to find better purchase.

Fawn was able to wring about three good pushes from each contraction, but she lost count of how many she endured -- they were starting to bleed into each other. Excess fluid dripped from her folds as she silently worked her baby down. One long, deep push had her skin bulging out obscenely, the head finally slipping down to fill up her canal.

Pressing her back harder against the pillar, Fawn lowered herself into more of a squat, allowing her to bring her hands around. She swiped away the pebbles digging into her palms and put both hands between her legs to explore her progress.

She didn't need a doctor to tell her what was going on, Fawn could feel it all for herself. Her vulva was hot to the touch and firm as a stone wrapped in skin -- everything flushed with blood and straining with the pressure that would soon force it to open.

The pad of her left middle finger accidentally dipped into her enflamed opening, and Fawn let out an involuntary gasp as she felt a bit of damp hair sitting just inside her stretched perineum.

"Oh! Hey'ya, rugrat," she said inside her head. A small chuckle left her dry throat. "I wasn't expectin' 'ya to be there, yet."

Unbidden tears pooled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. It didn't matter if she was in the middle of the desert without a bed or a home to call her own, she felt much more at ease giving birth here than she had her first go-around:

Long before her days as "Fawn", she'd married young -- far, far too young in hindsight -- to a much older man. Her beautiful little Mercy had been born when Fawn herself was still little more than a child, and it had been an agonizing ordeal. Her daughter was yanked into the world with forceps by a doctor who was far too rough. The tongs had left indents on her baby's soft skull for days, and they'd left bruises in their wake. All that pain, all that trauma for them both . . . only for whooping cough to steal her daughter from her arms within the year.

Fawn tilted her head to gaze up at the milky way, and wondered if Mercy was anywhere among those flecks of light. Just to be safe, she blew a kiss to the sky. Then, she readied herself to deliver her second-born.

She reached into the back pocket of her trousers, pulling out the flask she'd snuck out of camp with her. Fawn twisted off the cap with her teeth and drenched her hands in the whiskey. A subdued grunt was the only sound she made as she threw her hands between her legs and dove into another push.

The top of her baby's head began to appear. Fawn's fingerpad traced its shape as it forced her opening to stretch, until that little patch of hair was the rough shape of a teardrop. Fawn pressed her hands to either side of her labia, cradling the bulging near-crown. As she pushed, she held the skin open in preparation of what was to come. It wasn't long until a sharper grunt left her strained throat -- the baby's head stretching her in earnest with her most recent push.

Fawn tried to relax her body as the stinging burn of crowning began, but her thighs and back were aching from holding a squat for so long. She turned her eyes back to the stars as a focal point, admiring their heavenly glow while she bore down on her baby.

Her fingertips lightly pressed on each side of the slimy, squishy bubble of hair as it opened into a proper crown. Long, deep breaths were the closest thing to a scream Fawn allowed herself as the ring of fire branded her between the legs.

Wider, wider, wider, she opened. With each push her fingertips were pulled further apart. God, how much of a head did this child have?! She should've expected the child to be large, Hassan was a biblical giant of a man. She tried opening her legs to make room, but her trousers acted as shackles, only allowing her knees to move about a foot apart.

Fawn threw her head back, teeth clenched and eyes shut tight against the pain she was feeling in every inch of her body now. She tried standing up straighter, but her legs refused to close. Fawn blew out a loud breath from pursed lips as she gave into another desperate effort. She continued to prod at the reddened, stretched skin around the emerging head, hoping to peel as much of it back as possible to move things along.

When she felt a large, trembling hand touch her knee, she didn't need to open her eyes to see who it was that had found her. It was Hassan. She knew his touch very well . . . the evidence of that was currently being born. She'd missed it.

But if Hassan had managed to find her out there in the dark, then where was...?

"We're here, darlin'," a soft voice came from the other side of her. A smaller hand touched her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Ah, there was Newt.

Fawn blinked her eyes open. Once her vision adjusted, the light from the stars and half-moon were enough to see by. She saw the worried creases on the faces of her boys as they knelt in front of her.

"Evenin', fellas," Fawn croaked out. It was the first sentence she'd said aloud in hours, and her voice was parched as her tongue. "You're just in time. The 'lil anklebiter's makin' an appearance."

The boys glanced at each other and almost in unison craned their necks to see between her legs.

Newt's face twisted in an odd mix of shock and awe. "Lord Almighty . . ." he murmured.

Hassan's tanned face went so pale he reflected the moonlight like a mirror.

Fawn whined, bucking her hips as she felt another contraction rearing its ugly head. "Boys, I really need to change position," she said, her tone amazingly subdued for the situation. "I can't . . . can't open my hips enough. Get my trousers off."

The boys leapt into action. Hassan removed her boots with practiced ease and both helped pull her bunched-up trousers the rest of the way down her legs. Freed from her cloth prison, Fawn sank the rest of the way to the ground, her legs falling wide open and bracing on each side of the rocky outcrop.

"God, that's better," Fawn sighed, finally feeling some of her muscles relax.

When their crowning child was fully revealed to them, Hassan put his hand over his mouth and his shoulder slumped against the rock.

"Don't you dare go dark on me, Has," Fawn scolded, her words pinched and breathless as she pushed into her hands. She paused to take in a huge gasp of air. "This is your doin', remember?"

It was as if the baby had been waiting on its fathers to be there, as suddenly every push Fawn gave sent the head surging forward. Even when the pain was at its worst, Fawn never lost her composure. She panted, she hissed, and she gave the occasional quiet groan; but otherwise, she voiced no complaints.

Her boys were still and silent, perhaps too unsure what to do to offer any more unsolicited advice -- thank God. At least they could see for themselves she knew what she was doing.

With the chirping crickets and hooting owls as her background music, Fawn managed to slide the head of her child free in just four more good shoves after changing position.

"Do . . . you need anything?" Hassan timidly asked.

"I just need y'all to be quiet."

It wasn't an insult. With a large head hanging out of her and shoulders already pressing their way through her pelvis, any sound louder than a whisper was making her nauseous.

Fawn breathed deep, her thumb lovingly stroking the cheek of her baby while she waited for their body to turn. She felt their face twitch under her fingers, their mouth opening in a cry that had no breath behind it yet.

"I know, rugrat. I know it's uncomfortable, I'm sorry," she thought, her breath coming in harsh huffs through her nose. "Mama's got 'ya, though. She's got 'ya and your daddies are both here waitin'. It'll be okay, sweetie."

With her next contraction, Fawn made it her mission to push until her baby was out; and, by God, birth that child she did -- feet pressing against rock, hips angled towards the sky, and with both fathers watching on in stunned and obedient silence. The shoulders pressed through one right after the other, and all Fawn had to do was give a gentle tug under the chubby arms once they came free.

The sand under her became drenched as the hips of the baby slipped free of her own. Fawn held the scrunched newborn up in front of her for a few seconds, giving it a quick once-over with her eyes. From what she could tell, he was perfect!

"Well, ain't you a handsome one?" she crooned, laying her son over her stomach. He squirmed face-down on the worn denim of her shirt, whimpering quietly. "Come on, you can do better than that," Fawn encouraged, giving his shoulders a rub.

The newborn must've been exhausted from the hours-long squeeze. He could still only muster enough life to whimper, until his mother gave him a flurry of harsh pats to the butt. Then, he finally cried.

With his very first breath, that little boy proved he had his mother's authority in his blood. Because forty feet downhill, the entire gang was woken to the sound of his cries.

It didn't matter if they'd been sound asleep, they were all going to know his Mama had a new reason to kick their asses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

((I'd love to receive more prompts for this AU! I'd love to get one that would allow me to continue with the family fluff after this birth scene. I would've added it to this drabble, but I didn't want to get too far away from the prompt/))

Hope you enjoyed!

[stackslip]

what if you are a victim of sexual violence and you do feel forever damaged and angry though? what if you do feel that your perpetrators are evil?

so first of all, anon, i get you. your emotions and feelings about this are your own, and i'm not saying that they are fake or wrong. you're not a bad person for hating your abusers, and you're not wrong/bad for feeling damaged and angry. what i will gently push back on is that these are your feelings--i don't know your situation, past or current, and even if i did i still wouldn't be in a position to judge how you react to traumatic events. these are your own, nobody can take them away from you. what i am trying to say is, sexual violence does not have a specific essence different from other forms of violence that irredeemably damages its victims. rather, societal insistence that sexual violence is a black mark upon its victims, and a system made to fuck over victims of abuse and violence of any kind, leaving them little space or material resources to be able to heal in peace, leave many survivors barely able to stay afloat. it is normal to feel damaged when 1) you are told constantly that the thing that was done to you makes you lesser than, that it is your fault, and that you should not be able to talk about it or obtain any closure from it 2) for many survivors, ever since the violence occurred, they've been struggling with poverty, with being mocked and going through further abuse, with having very little space or material/emotional support to process and heal the pain they've been through, which compounds the feeling of being irreperably damaged. support of survivors *is* crucial to me. you should be able to leave your abuser and be in a space far away from them, to feel safe, to not have to worry about your material needs as your grieve and heal, to not being reinforced that you are broken beyond repair.

as for the question of your perpetrators, i'm not asking you to forgive and move on. again i do not know the context of what happened to you, but even then i cannot force you to feel anything, and forcing survivors in absolving their abusers in order to feel better does not do much. you cannot be forced to not hate somebody who's done harm to you! what i will try to push back on, though, is the notion that anybody is ontologically evil, and that figuring out who belongs in a class of ontologically evil people in order to wipe them out because they are Bad People Who Do Bad Things is not ultimately helpful as a whole. i'm not saying "if you killed your rapist you'd feel worse" bc that might not be the case. i'm saying that as a whole, a society that designates a group of people as irredeemably evil, and whose understanding of sexual violence is that it is done by Bad People Only who deserve to be lined up and shot, is not actually a society that reduces rates of sexual violence, or has the best interests of survivors at heart. you're allowed to hate your rapists and see them a certain way. but if you are told that the solution is to Kill All Rapists, that this will heal you and others and reduce the risks of sexual violence, the problem is that that just isn't true! if anything, it might make some survivors and perpetrators' families and friends even less likely to want to talk abotu sexual violence, because they have complicated feelings towards their perpetrators or materially depend on them. a society where people take matters into their own hands means even more silence around rape and sexual violence, and more shame around the victim. furthermore, it treats Being A Rapist as something people are born with, an innate evil, rather than the result of societal and economic forces, which then does nothing to actually prevent rape and sexual violence.

your feelings on the things that happened to you and the people who did this to you are real and valid. i am not judging them and nobody should judge you either. you cannot actually force yourself to love someone as yourself or to forgive, especially when you have been given no justice or healing. but also, while your feelings are your own, i will plead to you that using these feelings as justification to push for a worse world is not helpful to you or any other survivor. there are people on here and out there who will use what happened to you to try to convince you of a simple solution, one that they claim is helpful to survivors as they allow them to get justice in their own hands. but that is a lie. they are using your pain, your very real suffering, to obsfucate the real forces behind sexual violence and violence of any kind. they will often make you feel worse--not because revenge is morally bad, but because the idea that you are now irrevocably broken and damaged and that the only thing that can bring you a semblance of satisfaction is seeing all Rapists TM murdered is harmful to you too. it will not help you heal or make the world a better place for other or potential victims of sexual violence. it is a tool that people want to use in order to use it against more vulnerable people, who are seen as disposable and inherently predatory. it will not save you or others. so i am not urging you to forgive, or to magically heal from something traumatic. instead, i'm asking you to be kinder to yourself, to realize that while healing might not be in reach for everyone, including you, that it is because you were failed--not because sexual violence has inevitably broken you and soiled you. i'm asking you to not choose to support people who do not have your interests as a survivor in mind, but instead seek an easy solution with easily designated Bad People. i'm asking you to be kinder to yourself through both these things.

i hope this answer clarifies things somewhat. i wish you well. if you want to talk further about this in private, please feel free to dm me. i do not have all the solutions or the combination for a perfect world free of sexual violence, but i think there are paths to reducing said violence and making things better for survivors. sending you love.

[pandorasboxoftreasures]

Ok I know I’m not just overthinking this so hear me out : RECOM QUARITCH SPLIT-BRAIN THEORY

(aka “Colonel Sméagol”)

Avatar has its eye symbolism, right? “I see you?” Waking up from dreams, etc...

But has anybody else noticed this? It’s been bothering me since my first watch.

It’s to do with Recom Quaritch’s eyes and how they are highlighted from scene to scene and character perspective to character perspective and what that implies for which Quaritch has primary or dominant control at each given moment, the implanted one (Human) or the innate one (Na’vi).

Ritch when following the programming from his implanted memories (mostly noticeable when he has his PTSD moments, repeats routines that the human Ritch did like drinking coffee and squad briefings, observes things of interest to the implanted personality and goes berserker or highly emotional), left eye in clear light and/or focus, right eye in shadow or hidden.

Ritch when deviating from his programming and thinking individually (Mostly noticeable when he’s interacting with Spider or contemplating his next moves or observing and interacting with his environment through Na’vi enhanced senses/technically new eyes), right eye in clear light and/or focus, left eye in shadow or hidden.

They have full damn control over the lighting and it doesn’t fully follow the lighting directions from the same scenes or sometimes even shots and in many ways the opposite eye is considerably darker than ambient lighting without additional stylistic control would have it be. There’s no way these are accidental. Same goes for the composition.

There’s a symbolism here. There has to be. Maybe highlighting that there’s two people or halves of them in his head fighting for equilibrium or supremacy and they can each have turns taking over as well as working together as one (which is when we see barely any difference in how the eyes are lit or shown or they match the ambient lighting accurately the other exceptions being from the perspectives of characters who are unaware or couldn’t care less about which Quaritch is which). But also indicating that he may have a sort of split-brain but for personality. Two consciousnesses sharing one brain. One in each cerebral hemisphere.

Interestingly the main key behavioural differences between Recom Ritch and Human Ritch most noticeable so far when you watch them closely, are in aspects of the brain (regulation and comprehension of speech and language, working memory, cognitive flexibility, planning, inhibition, abstract reasoning, selecting specific actions in a list of possible actions, mediation of decision making, reorienting of attention, collecting and processing environmental information among many demonstrated) that belong to the left hemisphere that controls the right side of the body and therefore the right eye. 

It gets better...

WHICH SIDE OF THE BRAIN GOT DAMAGED WHEN HUMAN RITCH GOT WRECKED BY THAT VIPERWOLF SO BAD IT WENT THROUGH THE GODDAMN BONE?!

THE RIGHT SIDE THAT CONTROLS THE LEFT EYE!!!

EYWA, YOU NEON MACHIEVELLIAN CHAD DID YOU SEND THAT DOGGO AFTER MILES QUARITCH SENIOR FOR A TARGETED LOBOTOMY KNOWING WHAT WOULD HAPPEN?!

Now, with this hypothesis in mind, what can we do with it?

Look at each scene to determine who is who when, of course. If that left eye is like a street light take note that you’re likely dealing with the implant. If the right eye has it, it’s probably the innate, if it’s both, neither or barely noticeable, you’re looking at them in equilibrium or near enough.

Taking all that into consideration (again it is just a theory for now I will have to take notes next time I watch from beginning to end like I have every time since I started getting suspicious of this but now I have even more research and possible context behind it), who has Kiri by the throat, who has a gun to Lo’ak’s head, who is telling Jake Neteyam “didn’t have to die”, and who lets Kiri go to save Spider?

It also opens up the possibility if this is a hint towards future events (unlikely but again who knows) THAT THERE’S TECHNICALLY WAYS TO ERASE THOSE IMPLANTED MEMORIES AND PERSONALITY AND GIVE FULL CONTROL TO THE INNATE OR THE IMPLANT because people can still function mostly if not completely normally with a lot of parts of their brains removed or disabled.

________________________________________________

BONUS: Another interesting thing to see that I’m following up with and taking notes on is whether Ritch is left or right handed or a combination of both. Because that is very difficult to actually determine and also has additional possible implications. 

Stephen Lang can deliberately play a left-handed character. James Cameron is left-handed. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that it could be a deliberate choice and I need to check through both movies again to see any signs of it.

I’ll keep putting examples and further delvings and discussions under #quaritch split brain theory if people want to go deeper into this with me or follow along. 

I might even make some memes with it, who knows?

[flashyourgreeneyesatme]

Paris - A miniseries Jamie Tartt x F/Reader

Hi, babies I was inspired to write this mini-series because honestly, I was looking for Jamie Tartt smut and couldn't find any I was desperate. Then saw this post by @yungbludz expressing exactly how I felt. So took matters into my own hands. This is one of 3 installments leading up to you guessed it smut! Jamie Tartt, baby girl I’m sorry for what I’m gonna put you through in this series. I love you I promise.

PARIS - CHAPTER 1 (DID YOU SEE THE PHOTOS?)

Warnings for this chapter: So many swear words I’m sorry I belong on a sailors ship with my mouth most of the time, Adultery!, honestly dickhead boyfriend, I DON’T THINK THE READER SHOULD BE FEELING THIS OKAY SHE’S BEEN MANIPULATED INTO FEELING THIS! Rugby players? The sun. The media. Jack Grealish (yep he gets his own warning), talking of sex. No use of name or y/n. *Iain Stirling impression* A relationship hits the rocks.

Context: Okay so the reader is currently dating Sebastian Love a fake rugby player I’ve made. Very much inspired by that episode of Ted Lasso where Keeley and Ted have that article scare. Also, any political stances are jokes. This chapter is really short sorry. Seb is a dick.

"What the fuck?!" Sebastian yells as he slams our front door open, okay mate we get it you're a rugby player but please don't break the only entrance to our home. This could be a reaction to a bad practice or something has gone down, either way, this will come back onto me and will not end pretty.

"You alright?" I ask as he storms into the room to stand directly facing me with only the crappy coffee-stained table separating us. Stupid question, regretted asking it almost instantly but words are said and you can't rewrite them just because later on you wish it'd been something different. His eyes are so big and bright right now and not in like the way they usually are, almost doll-like in nature little shimmer, no now there was no little shimmer, no light to be seen at all in those soulless eyes. 

"You tell me. Huh? Tell me all about your new little boyfriend." His fucking teammates I swear to god they know not to wind him up it will end badly and he’ll believe it. 

"What’s happened, Seb? Tell me. You can’t come in here yelling at me, accusing me of cheating so use your words. Who would I possibly be cheating on you with?” God, I sound a bit patronising, he is a grown man, not a child.

“Okay gonna play dumb then? Let me give you a hint. Footballer, messy hair, talks like a twat.” He counts these adjectives on his fingers. Oh, surely he’s not talking about.

“I ain’t fucking Jack Grealish!” Ain’t even met the man, he is on the list though, gotta thing for footballers who I’ll never have a chance with.

“Jamie Tartt,” I BEG YOUR PARDON? Oh god, he knows I don’t know how he knows but he knows that Jamie tried to kiss me 3 months ago. I’m gonna die alone this is him breaking it off, he’s only just moved in 2 weeks ago.

“I ain’t fucking him either! You need to stop listening to guys on your team y’know they’re doing it to wind you up.” 

“Explain this then.” He dramatically slams down a newspaper with the front page displaying the headline ‘SEBASTIAN'S LOVE NOW JAMIE’S TARTT’ This is the Sun. Aka one of the most biased shithole of a paper. I say these exact words to him. “Oh so you’re calling me stupid now are you?” I don’t like this. This isn’t a comfortable feeling. I want him to leave. “You gonna say anything bitch?”

“Get out.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“What?” His voice is the polar opposite of mine, ear drum bursting, heartbreaking.

"I said get out. If you want to choose to believe this newspaper instead of your actual girlfriend then I choose to kick you out."

"But I live here." Hah, not for long.

"For like 2 weeks, you haven't even got to help out with rent yet so really you have no jurisdiction here" Big word for me. "So get out or I won't hesitate to call the sun up and say so much worse." I redact my comment earlier he is a child as he storms out with a pout on his face and a huff. "I'll drop your stuff off on Friday." A little wave goodbye and a door slam later and I am on the sofa shell shocked.

He was a dick. Like damn, I stayed with him for 2 and a half years and he's only just moved in? That was a red flag. I just feel stupid for delaying it this long and letting this be the final straw.

Tonight. Who needs a man when I can read porn and drink wine.

6 glasses of wine and a message from Jamie Tartt reading ‘Drinks tonight?’ later and well you’ll have to wait to hear the rest.

A/N:

Holy crap I did it, I know its short but this is just a buildup to the good shit. And what fanfic of mine would it be if it didn’t relate just the tiniest bit back to Taylor Swift. Well I hope to see you again when I update next which will hopefully be Friday! Glad you read. If you have any critics or stuff you think would be cool to add either comment of dm me I want as many minds on this as possible. 

AL

[psychedelic-ink]

kinktober '22 ║ ⅠⅠ

pairing: pero tovar x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 1.9k

summary: despite the fact that you shouldn't, you can't help but continue to visit the prisoner that you still didn't know the name of. An unexpected visitor shows up.

warnings: dry humping, squirting, dirty talk, pero being a little shit as always

a/n: this is part of the ego & black powder series, you don't need to read the first part to read this but it'll add more context if you do! the masterlist isn't out yet but I'll be getting to it soon 💜

part one | series playlist | taglist form | series masterlist

You’ve been sick before. 

You got poisoned, stabbed, got the flu, woke up with a sore throat– You hated it, for sure, but you knew that eventually those misfortunes would pass, one way or another. 

But this isn’t the case when it comes to him. 

Ever since your little…relief session with him, he’s been quiet, suspiciously so. You hadn’t expected him to honor the agreement you forced him to make. The silence irritates you. It shouldn’t but it does. He’s like sand. You remember finding it everywhere after coming back from training when you were a kid. No matter how many times you bathed yourself it didn’t matter, the sand would still be there. It would be on your bed, the floor, still lodged deep in your scalp. 

And that’s exactly what he feels like. No matter what you do, the ghost of him lingers across your skin. He visits you when you’re alone in your bed, touching yourself, remembering how his cock tasted on your tongue, and in those moments you can swear you hear him laughing at you, teasing you for being weak. 

Everytime you enter his cell, you want him to say something, anything. You never thought that you would miss the sound of his voice so much. 

And just like the days before, when you open the heavy door to his cell to feed him, he’s silent, only his eyes following you as you move. You bring the bowl of soup to his lips, he promptly opens up and allows you to feed him. When you see the pink of his tongue, you’re reminded of how soft it felt against your fingers.

“I am done, princesa,” 

You blink, trying to comprehend what he just said. Your gaze falls to the empty bowl that is still pressed against his lips, swallowing, you swiftly pull it back, cheeks feeling warm under his intense gaze. When you continue to stand there, frozen after hearing his voice, his lips twist into a sly smile, eyes shimmering with amusement. 

“Have you been lonely?”

Your heart sinks into your chest. The way he makes you feel is indescribable, confusing. You’re happy, yet you also want to rip your heart out and throw it at his feet. 

“No,” you whisper, eyes looking down. “Why would I feel lonely, I have my comrades,” 

He scoffs at that, smirk shifting into a wide grin. “Comrades?” he repeats gleefully. “I barely hear you talk to any of them. Do not lie to me, I know you were lonely before I came into your life, and you are lonely still,”

The words sting. He’s right. He says it nonchalantly, as if he’s just stating a fact. Despite being a prison guard for as long as you can remember, you never felt like you belonged. The men don’t enjoy you being there, it doesn't matter if you are good at what you do. It doesn’t matter to them if some of their commanders are women. You’re not that high up in the food chain to gain their respect, and despite knowing some of these men since you were a child, they always give you dirty looks, mumbling, muttering. It always happens behind your back. To your face they act normal, laugh with you, eat with you, complain about the disgusting men that lay on the other side of the iron gates. 

But none of it matters when they prefer you gone. 

“You must be tense…” 

Your eyes flicker up to meet his. It’s clear to you that he wants to say more, instead he bites into his bottom lip instead, tongue licking over the dents. The air between the two of you crackles with unspoken words, the hairs across your body lifting at the ghost-like sensation. You swallow, heat building between your legs. No matter what you did your fingers never felt enough after tasting him. Every night you wonder how his cock would feel buried deep in your cunt. Placing the bowl in its place, you eye the closed door before walking up to him, standing only an inch away. 

“What are you saying?” you whisper, you can feel your pupil diapering as you look at him, gaze raking over his jaw and stopping at his throat. You want to bite into him. “What are you proposing?” 

“I propose–” he stops to swallow, his voice thick with want. “You relax and take what you want for a change,” 

The words send a shrill, unsettling feeling up your spine, it settles in your bones. “Take what you want” as if it was ever that simple. You don’t know how to answer him, or what he actually means, until the chains rattle and he spreads his legs. Your eyes follow the movement, hunger spreading within your gut. 

Hands shaking, you take another step, balancing yourself by bracing the wooden pillory, his head between your hands. His back is flushed against the stone cold wall, looking up to him, worry settles across your face. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“I can barely feel it,” 

He grins, pushing up his thigh at the best of his capabilities. You shiver at the sudden pressure, brows knit together in concentration as you experimentally grind your hips down on to him. Nails scratch the wood as you repeat the movement, a jolt of electricity shooting up your spine. The flimsy trouser he was given to wear barely hides the muscles underneath, he’s strong and steady underneath you, which prompts you to move faster, your breathing becoming uneven. 

Five minutes barely pass and you feel absolutely soaked. You managed to angle yourself in a way that each time you grind down, your puffy clit is caught against the shaft of his thigh. Your moans become louder, more frantic. With the corner of your eye you see him smiling, it annoys you, it annoys you even more when he tries to kiss you. Not slowing down your hips, you pull away. 

“No kissing,” you hiss. “You’re a thief,” 

He laughs at that, head falling back against the pillory as he watches you desperately rut against him. 

“Princesa,” he says, trying to level with you. “I can feel how wet you are. The fabric is shade darker, is a kiss really where you draw the line?”

“Yes,” you breath out, arms shaking. “A kiss is something personal. It requires feelings. Which is something you wouldn’t understand,”

He laughs again, but this time with less humor. You’re too dazed to care, your head falls against his chest, teeth digging into your bottom lip. Everything feels so damn wet. Heat builds between your legs, the coil tightening as the roll of your hips becomes sloppy. Your chest tightens. 

“That’s it,” he purrs, lips dangerously near your ear. “You are so wet, have you been thinking about this for long? Cum for me, want to feel it all,” 

You clench around nothing, you want to look up but refuse to do so. Instead, you furiously shake your head into his chest. You bite back your moans, everything is so intense. He continues to whisper utter filth into your ears, telling you how good your wetness feels, how it could fill the rivers. It’s too much. The tone of his voice is too much. 

You cum with a cry, silencing yourself by biting his chest. You vaguely hear him hiss but you’re too far gone to actually care. You’re positive that you black out for a second, cunt gushing around nothing as the intensity of your orgasm continues to cascade over you. When you’re done, you nearly fall, barely able to pull back. He’s smiling as your gaze travels down, seeing the mess you made. 

“Good girl,” he rasps. “Now show me,” 

You blink in confusion, “Show you what?”

He licks his lips, his eyes out to devour you. The tingles of your orgasm returns, you’re not satisfied with just grinding against his leg. 

“Show me the core of the mess. Bend over and let me see that beautiful pussy of yours,” 

You still, a sudden flush of embarrassment heating up your skin. Chest stuttering, you notice the thick outline of his cock, a small dot of wetness staining the front of the fabric. Then, with a sudden bravery, you lower your own trousers, turn and bend over, just like he said. 

He groans at the mere sight of you, chains rattling as he thrusts into the air. 

“Spread yourself for me,” 

Reaching out, with two fingers you spread your folds. You don’t dare to say anything, you fear something might happen as soon as you open your mouth. The chains rattle again. You squeeze your eyes shut, desperately trying to calm your raging heart. It’s deadly silent now, you can feel yourself dripping. 

In the end it isn’t you talking that breaks the spell, it’s a series of footsteps that’s heading your way. 

“Fuck!” you gasp, pulling your trousers up. At the same time you run towards the water bowl and fill it with water. You can hear him chuckling behind you. 

“I told you you were mine. And now our real story begins, mi vida,” 

Before you can pry and ask what he means, the door opens. The water sloshes inside the bowl as you turn, some of it spilling over the bowl and wetting your fingers. You look absolutely dumbfounded. A man you don’t know and a guard walks in, you remember his name being Jungfeng. He eyes you suspiciously, but he’s quick to shrug it off as he leaves you and the new arrival alone in the cell. 

The stranger ignores you completely, an amused glance appearing as he stares at the prisoner. 

“Tovar,” he says, voice full of humor. “So, how’s life without me?”

Tovar. That must be his last name. It feels odd to know. 

By the air alone you can tell that these two have known each other for a while. Tovar sheepishly grins, moving a bit. His eyes flicker to you, lips curling up. 

“A little slow,” he answers, eyes still locked to yours. 

Finally the stranger turns, eyes wide as he finally notices you. His eyes briefly scans your body, observes your expression and turns back to Tovar. 

“Seems like it,” he grins, you feel heated within the stifling cell. You want to leave but you can’t. 

“You’re a hero after all,” Tovar says, your presence forgotten. He looks away then back to his friend. “So what are they giving you for all of your troubles–” 

You zone out, not wanting to hear the rest. With the way your heart is beating, you doubt you would be able to hear them properly anyway. He’s going to leave and you’re going to be alone, all over again. It was nice while it lasted, however, you wouldn’t mind if it had lasted a little bit longer. You’re not sure who this newcomer is, but his mere presence makes rage bubble inside of you. 

“Are you coming, princesa?” 

You jump at the loud voice. Looking up to Tovar, you blink before shaking your head. The stranger is amidst freeing his right arm, Tovar grins at your confusion. 

“I said would you like to join us,” he, you can only assume, repeats himself. “It would be good to have someone who knows the land after the cavalry leaves us,” 

“Me?” you say, your mouth spitting cotton. “Come with you?”

“Yes, it’ll be fun,” 

When he stands, actually stands, only an inch away from you. You feel lightheaded. He’s much taller than you anticipated, his presence towering and intimidating. His gaze is playful, lips twisted in an amused smile. You can tell he’s enjoying himself. He reeks of danger and heartbreak. 

So it surprises you when you accept his offer. 

He doesn’t seem at all surprised. 

kinktober tags: @tusk89 , @amneris21 , @witchisenpai , @pedrito-friskito , @tom-whore-dleston , @lola766 , @batdarkladyvampir , @dindjarinswhore , @dnxgma , @eyelessfaces , @queenofthefaceless , @softtdaisy , @saintlike78 , @timpletance , @xdaddysprincessxx , @stardust-galaxies , @spacecowboyhotch

ego and black powder tags: @/tusk89 , @/amneris21 , @/pedrito-friskito , @/batdarkladyvampir , @/dindjarinswhore , @/timpletance , @/xdaddysprincessxx

[felidacy]

Vampire!Tim but make it Metahuman and more horror

For Context: Always wanted my own spin on Metahuman Tim and I got this idea when I watched an Iron Lung trailer edit on repeat. I loved the scene and I immediately began daydreaming about Tim. Apparently I like Blood way too much. Along with a very unhinged Tim that comes across as some eldritch horror to anyone but his family. (Okay including them too at first)

Background Information

Tim has always been a little bit of a freak. He is a born stalker who witnessed deaths before when he was just a toddler and seemingly was not traumatised by the Flying Graysons deaths. He is also too smart for his own good when he figures out who Batman & Robin are. Yet Tim is also so unbelievably dense. He runs after the two vigilantes on a regular basis since he is nine even though he lives in Gotham; the personification of purgatory as a city.

Having the survival skill of a wet paper bag since young is one thing, but years later down the line getting involved with the Wayne family -most importantly THE Batman who does not wish for Metahumans in his city- and yet neglecting to tell anyone about the fact that he is in actuality a Metahuman is another. When Tim started out as Robin he purposefully did anything possible to alter his folder on the Batcomputer until he realised that Bruce was so far gone in his head that he didn't even seem to care. He didn't care a whole lot about Tim in any way beyond training him. So even though people will find it ridiculous, he just forgot that nobody knew. In his opinion it wasn't lying if he just never talked about it.

(It did in fact still count as dishonesty)

Maybe he would have considered being more upfront about it if things didn't escalate and before Tim knew it he was estranged from his family. Tim always had unusual relationships with family and while it did hurt him, he accepted the terms and learned to live with it. His family? Well after a while they did realise that something was messed up when they were for once forced into some therapy -shocker! Were they forced to? Yes. Does it have much success? Only a little because its the Batfamily after all. It is enough however that they realise Tim hasn't checked in for multiple days and that his tracker shows he is still at home.

(The fact that Tim didn't think of the Manor as home or even visited in the last few months was a very sobering realisation.)

The scene

The Batfamily breaks into the Nest and search in every Nook and Crannies for Tim, but don't find him until they come across a secret door. It is not the same one to his own personal cave for the vigilante work, but a creaky staircase that is barely lit that goes on for far too long to be still above ground. The air is feeling heavier when it opens up into a big room, which much like the way down does not possess many lights. Quickly they realise that those who are there however point all into one direction. In the middle of the dark room is a pool; filled with the dark red substance that they soon recognise as none other than blood. In various states of shock and disgust they call out for blood.

They aren't prepared for the blood to move, it ripples as a figure emerges out of nowhere from the pool. Blood is coated on their whole body with not a single place of skin or clothes left unstained. It is cascading down the limbs when the figure pushes their frazzled hair back as if the blood is a mere annoyance and locks eyes with the people in front with an unimpressed stare.

The consequences of Tim not being truthful come to bite him into his ass at the worst time when he just wanted to work on a case and now there was his family that saw him bathe in a pool of blood.

Everyone needs some more therapy after witnessing that horror show that Tim calls his enrichment time.

Meta-abilities

Tim can use blood to look through memories of the people it belonged to. Tim is a practical person and as such he started collecting blood from various people. Only in small doses. Or more, with some. Depending on the person and how vicious he felt that day. He uses it for casework, stalking or blackmail, because frankly Tim doesn't understand why they shouldn't go just as low as the rogues if it prevents innocent people getting hurt. Tim learns that the blood can only show him memories from the past upon obtaining it however, which is why he ends up taking more and more blood from various people. In their line of work people don't suspect a small pinch in their finger as he learned.

It is only reasonable that after many years he can't possibly keep hiding all the vials of blood. Under the excuse of emancipation and with the help of estrangement with his family, he creates his own base of operation and far below in the earth he builds a pool that he fills with blood. Tim is not an organised person and by no means neat, as such he sees nothing wrong with using a pool made of blood and dipping into it if he needs additional help. (He finds that drinking blood has quite the strange effects on his body. Beyond what it does to anyone. If it weren't for that he wouldn't mind drinking blood. He's done it for years after all) His mind is able to work through the maze of the memories to find what he is searching for. Additionally after many fails & trials he knows how to preserve and not waste the precious blood. Tim isn't stupid after all.

Working so frequently with blood is how he learns to expand his abilities. He has always been fond of experiments after all. That is how Tim learns he is also capable of communicating with the person the blood belonged to. Although it does seem to be freaky and seems to make people physically sick. His previous assassins team described it as if they could feel themselves rotting away from within. Tim took great offense at that and even though he likes to believe they weren't being serious, he does tend to avoid using it.

[gepperl]

TRANS MALE PASSING PROTIPS

Targeted specifically at trans men who have not begun medical transition, but for anyone. Of course, this is just what works for me and everyone is different.

Shorts that fall mid thigh and are baggy can work really well to make a more masculine figure. This is a trendy style with cis men, and if they are looser on your thighs you can look more rectangular. Basketball shorts are always fine, but for bigger people can end up sticking to your thighs and making you look like a masc lesbian. Looking like a masc lesbian is so so common guys this is what we are trying to avoid. See here for reference

2. WALK WITH YOUR SHOULDERS. Walk like your shoulders are the widest part of your body. Move them kinda forward and backward. Watch a video of a man walking next to a woman for context on what I mean. Women walk with their hips, and it makes all the difference for you in someone's head. Practice in the mirror before doing it so you don't look like a fool.

3. Hair!!!! I know you guys don't want to let go of the 2020 fluffy boi haircut and that is ok. If you don't want a skin fade short haircut, there are other options. Also, if you belong to a subculture, like punk/emo/whatever else there is, look at male styles as it can be very different than what is normally accepted ( for example, men have long hair in metal subculture, you can style it like them). In general, hair is very meticulous, as for some people too short is masc lesbian and too long is woman.

This kind of hair can do wonders. For men of color/curly hair people, if you are not out locs are a very good option as they are typically read as masculine but are gender neutral. Afros, braids, even skin fades with a lot of hair at the top can read feminine. Another style option could be short cornrows that end at the neck, twists, or a fade with less hair at the top like this.

I am not black, so I cannot speak for how this would be read in a black community, but this is how, from my experience, I would view the hairstyles. Sorry if this is not appropriate. Also, I am not here to tell you not to dye your hair. It can work if you style it with masculine clothes and are dressed in a specific style like emo or scene or something. Do what you will with that.

4. If there is ANY peach fuzz on your face, make the most of it. I know I have high testosterone levels naturally, so I grow facial hair a little, but if there is enough to dye it, dye it. If there is like barely any, if its not visible in the mirror if you're really looking (not INSPECTING), it's probably not worth it, and that is fine. use your judgement, and if it is not enough, just shave it. It's better to look clean shaven than desperate for face hair. Eyebrows, mustache hair, sideburns can all be darkened with eyeshadow, brow brushes, and just for men beard dye.

5. LAYERS. I know you guys have seen this one before. Flannels, button ups over black t-shirts, zip up hoodies. It might get a little hot, but it covers your sweat stains anyways. I promise guys it helps so much with shoulders, hips, boobs, it makes you look more masculine. Don't get that ugly ass red and black checkered one though. Think if you would see a masc lesbian wearing it and use your best judgement. I heart layers.

6. Pants. Woah. Pants. I HATE pants I know you fat trans men get me. Old navy women's jeans...and you guys won't like this one...are actually pretty good. SPECIFICALLY the sky high wide leg ones. Get those a size up and cuff them, wear them low on your waist, perfect. Other than that, jeans are shit. I don't really waste my time with men's pants anymore because of my hips but cargos are great, baggy sweats with the band at the bottom are great, PJ pants good, dress pants are a struggle but I've heard dickies work well for people with a smaller body. Not sure though. My tactic is I go to a thrift store for hours and try on all their pants, then find similar ones online or take pictures of the brand for the ones I like and find more.

7. Accessories and jewelry. Iffy. Anything you could describe as dainty, if it's not a family thing or important to you, probably not. Friendship bracelets are good, pendants are good, earrings depends on where you are and what you are wearing. Studs in men are common where I am, so I wear them. Observe the cis men at your disposal. Accessories, bags don't really matter unless they're like the strawberry hot topic mini bags. Don't get those at all those are fugly. Mini bags are not great in general, just better to get something else. Watches are heavily loved here they look very male and also you have the time always even a cheap watch is fine just not a woman's watch. It has to be a men's watch. You can tell when it is a woman's watch don't get those. Nail polish is fine no one cares, it's more popular now with boys. Especially if you're a little girly pop already. Of course that also depends on your environment.

8. Stance. Sitting with your ankle on your knee is comfortable and way more masculine than crossing your legs. Confidence. Fake it until you make it because cis men are so arrogant guys. This is what I mean btw

9. Don't be afraid of being feminine. Don't give up being yourself in order to be masculine. Your happiness matters the most. Love you bye, I'll update this if I think of anything else.

[delicatefade]

(WIP Wed/Whenever) kissy kissy Dalish elves

What if I actually posted on tumblr instead of just reblogging art? I've been writing a Dragon Age fanfic with no canon characters because I am a clown. It's a love story told in three four stories between my OC Eilan Lavellan and @bluewren's OC Lex Lavellan. They are twenty years old. Here is a fluffy little love snippet. (for any familiar with my main Eilan/Solas story, this is an AU for Eilan.)

Context: Lex and Eilan have been dating in secret for 8 months. Eilan insisted on keeping it secret because she didn't want to be the center of gossip. Lex didn't care if everyone knew but went along with Eilan's secretive nature. Their cover was just blown and everyone at Clan Lavellan now knows. CW: sex implied, nudity word count: 653

Eilan was surprised by how much she enjoyed having her secret exposed. That everyone knew she and Lex belonged to each other made her feel proud, even smug. Surely she had the envy of every other young woman — who better a catch than Lex? And who would have expected him to fall for Eilan, who was pretty enough but a bit odd, a loner who lived too far in her own head and practiced strange hobbies like elven calligraphy and writing. Being recognized as a couple had its practical benefits as well. They no longer had to invent ruses to explain their absences. They could disappear together, hand in hand, in plain view of their clan. Though Lex and Eilan had never named what had grown between them, in the eyes of the others they were clearly now a committed couple. Eilan was inclined to adopt their view.

To disappear together was as far as she dared express herself in public. When they were at camp Eilan preferred not to kiss or touch unnecessarily. Lex, she suspected, would have preferred to flaunt their relationship. He had sat close to her by the fire and rested his hand on her knee. The following day he swam out to where she bathed in the shallow sea just to hold her, the two of them weightless in the water. She reciprocated with a quick kiss, a small touch or a shy embrace, enough to make sure he never felt rejected, but invariably she would cut short his sweet affections, whispering to him that someone could see. He did not seem to mind. Or if he did, he never said. It helped that they often found time to be alone together. They each had daily duties, everyone in the clan did, but Eilan had found a way to pawn off some her chores onto a much younger cousin by baiting the girl with unfair bets. “I bet that when I drop this quill it will fall upwind,” Eilan said, knowing full well she could tip the quill with a sleight of hand. “Bet you can’t blow out all these candles in a single breath,” she said after having coated two wicks in essence of wyvern’s breath so that they would burn more stubbornly. The girl was only twelve, an apprentice healer of an agreeable and shy nature. By the fourth bet Eilan suspected that the girl had caught on, but was so thoroughly enjoying Eilan’s attention that she was willing to spend the day de-stemming spindleweed in Eilan’s stead. On those days Eilan would meet Lex in the forest where it was his duty to tend to wild gardens, thought admittedly when Eilan was there he tended to little but her. “Hold on. One second. I should check on the peppers,” Lex said as he disentangled himself from Eilan and stood up from the ground. They had just made love on a patch of summer squash. Fat bright leaves clung to Eilan’s bare back as she sat up to watch Lex move, his nude body gorgeous in the dappled sunlight. He pulled free a pepper from a nearby plant and screwed up his nose at it. It was a runty thing, curled in on itself like an angry cashew, bright red and gnarled. Lex raised a bewildered brow. “…the fuck?” Eilan repressed a laugh, her whole body shaking, tears in her eyes, lips twitching as she covered her mouth. “Oh yea?” Lex grinned, trying not to laugh. “You think it’s funny?” He tossed the sad pepper behind him and dove towards her, nipping at her neck as he guided her back into the cushy leaves. She shrieked with delight. “It’s all your fault,” he teased. “You’re the… what’s that word again? The title of your play? The Saboteur.” Eilan gasped. “You remembered the title of my play!” Lex wagged his brows cockily as if to say ‘duh.’

Tagging: @monocytogenes, @crackinglamb, @about2dance, @nirikeehan, @theluckywizard, @oxygenforthewicked @melisusthewee @rosella-writes and anyone else who might want to share their WIPs!

[justlittleguysims]

Some Sh*t my OC(s) Said...

Thank you @changingplumbob for tagging me in this. I've been trying to figure out what three quotes I could even mention here, because I have WAY too many OCs to pick from, and don't really do gameplay based stories, so I guess I'll just pick three of my favorite characters to write for, one for each of my projects, and sort of just give a one-liner or bits I have been working on in my head lately for each one. My brain is just filled with my OCs bickering at each other. lol

From My Untitled WIP:

You can read the first 5 parts of chapter one HERE.

Scene Context: Derek Moore has been single for awhile and his Daughter, Angie, has been bugging him to start dating again since she's worried about him being alone when she moves out for college. Derek is 33 and she's 17, so they have reached a point where they tend to speak to each other pretty candidly about all sorts of things.

Derek, at this point, is sort of airing out his grievances with online dating, and how he feels like he can't really relate to many of the women his age on there because most of them are still figuring their lives out, and they don't have kids, so they probably don't want their "first kid" as a step-parent to be a fully-grown adult. He's been worried about this for a while, but Angie doesn't seem all to concerned about that, what she's really concerned about —especially after seeing a few of his opening messages on his app, is, and I quote:

"Dad... I love you, but... you have zero game... respectfully."

From Lidia and Séamus:

I don't have any story posted from this project yet, since it's barely two months old now, but I have been posting character development stuff, which you can find HERE.

Scene Context: It's 1965 at the start of this story, and Lidia Rossi, who is a Calabrian Italian women, is having a conversation over breakfast with Séamus O'Hara, an Irishman, who she's recently made acquaintance with through a few friends, and has been letting crash at her place on and off for about two weeks at this point in the story. They often poke fun at each other's cultural differences, mostly in good fun, and this scene is very much one of those moments where they mutually point out how weird each other's cultural habits are to the other.

In this case, Lidia is watching Séamus spread a load of butter onto his toast. Something she doesn't do, coming from a Southern Italian family where butter just isn't a common ingredient used in a lot of their cooking. She makes a comment on how she thinks he's using WAY too much butter. He pushes back at her, telling her that it isn't too much. They go back and frothing like this for a bit, Lidia saying she thinks the amount of butter he's eating is disgusting and unhealthy, Séamus bite back at her for only ever eating bread and a cup of coffee in the morning, as if that is healthy. I don't exactly know how long this would go on for... but what I do know is that Séamus will end the argument by saying something along the lines of:

"How could you possible know what's a normal amount of butter if you don't even eat the stuff? You're no butter authority! You lack the credentials."

From Fortunes Come in Threes:

I don't have too much posted about this project, just a part 1 to the first chapter, which you can find HERE.

Scene Context: At this point in the story, Kris Battle is moving into Francis Adler's house, and their friend Evan Erickson is helping them move Kris' belongings into the house. With both Francis' car and the pickup truck Evan had borrowed from a friend now empty, they all decided to take a brake and order some pizza.

As they wait for their order to arrive, they all get to talking, and Kris learns more about Francis' late adoptive mother, Sharleen, who was the original owner of the house. Francis and Evan, who have been best friends since the 3rd grade, begin reminiscing about the family game board nights Sharleen would host for Francis, Evan, and all of Evan's siblings every Friday night when they were kids. Francis, who is so excited about Kris being their new housemate, mentions that now that Kris will be living with them, they and Evan will finally be able to play more than just their usual two player broad games.

"We can finally play three-player chess again!" Francis rejoiced. "Oh god no!" Evan groans. "PLEASE! Anything but THAT!"

This is what three-player chess looks like, btw. Evan hates this game.

[bits-and-babs]

𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 — 𝐃𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒

-> OCT. 07 : SENSORY DEPRIVATION

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. ball gag use, eye mask, removal of hearing, spanking, fingering.

WC: 1025

[Kinktober Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

The pressure of Leto’s fingertips adjusting the elastic band of the eye mask around the back of your head to keep it in place and the heaviness of the ball gag in your tongue are the only sensations that you’re aware of. He’s gentle, ensuring that you can’t see at all before removing his touch from you entirely.

The two of you had established hand signals before Leto began the sensory deprivation. A simple wave of your hand to gain his attention, and a thumbs down as a request to stop. He was sweet enough to refuse to go ahead until you were happy with your simple commands.

These signals were important. Not only had Leto taken away your ability to speak, he’d also restricted your hearing. Gurney Halleck would be furious to know that the Holtzman Shield belonging to the Duke of Caladan and ruler of Arrakis in order to protect his person was being used in such a context- to block out the sound around you in order to take full control of your vulnerability.

Two taps on your forearm, a simple ‘are you okay?’. You responded swiftly, putting your thumb up to ensure that Leto knows you are comfortable with continuing. He withdraws his hand, and there is a long period where nothing happens at all. You lean back into the wooden chair you sit on, attempting to get comfortable. It’s tense at first, awaiting his first move. Your breath is shaky in your chest, and you’re no doubt it’s deafening in the silence of the room around you. He’d be able to hear your anticipation.

Then, as you begin to settle into the quiet, you feel Duke Leto’s leather clad fingers drag achingly slowly down your sternum. You can feel the seam of the glove over the tip of his finger, the ridge catching on your skin as it trails down your front. Your breath hitches, sitting up at attention.

That digit drags to just above your naval, pausing for just a moment in order to build your expectations. Whatever you had in mind, he went the complete opposite way. His leather-clad hand slaps the inside of your naked thigh, catching you off guard without the spanking sound, pin-like stinging tingling across the skin as you gasp out around your gag. It feels good, to be utterly at his mercy like this.

“Mhmmph-“ you moan weakly as his fingers trace gentle circles across the prickling skin. He makes a few circuits, one, two, three, before trailing up the inside of your thigh and teasing at your pussy lips. It’s not enough to build any pleasure, touch delicate and barely there. You whimper, raising your hips slightly to meet his touch.

You’re punished with another brutal spank to the inside of your opposite thigh. You choke out weakly, tilting your head back over the chair-rest, but it appears that Leto ignores your desperate whimpers and returns to his plan, just barely touching at your cunt in a way that has your skin tingling, screaming for more.

It’s only when you ease up, behaving yourself as Leto would say, that he rewards you. What you assume is his index finger circles your clit just perfectly. The butter-soft material of the leather is delightful against your sensitive clit, the seams and stitching adding just enough texture to have pleasure building needily in your abdomen. Your knees raise slightly, body curling inwards almost at how good the sensation feels.

It’s like this, while you are so invested in the delicious, swirling pleasure between your thighs, that Leto presses a feather-like kiss to your shoulder. His beard is rough against your skin, but his lips are like velvet. You tilt your head the opposite way, exposing more of your throat to him in order to appease him. Once again, your obedient nature earns you a treat.

Leto sinks his teeth gently into the delicate skin above your pulse point, sucking at your neck with enough pressure to almost certainly leave a hickey just above your neckline. The scandalous nature of it all, along with the consistent pressure and speed of his fingertip against your clit has tears welling in your eyes, pleasure building and building.

You moan his name. You can’t hear yourself, but you’re almost certain you sound as though someone had slipped far too many sachets of Spice into your wine goblet at a state dinner, slurring around the ball gag. Leto appears to understand, however. His finger works just slightly quicker now as his mouth is removed from your neck with a soft ‘pop’ sensation.

Whimpering weakly, your body begins to tremble. He has you right on the edge, your thigh and abdomen muscles threatening to snap in two with how good it feels. You’re not entirely sure what tips you over, the pressure on your clit, the third spank to your skin just at your hip, or the sensation of his teeth sinking into your skin again, but you cum with a devastating wail, body crumpling inwards at the force of your cataclysmic orgasm.

When Leto is kind enough to shut down the shield in your afterglow, the first sound that hits your ears is your heaving breath. The orgasm had expelled the air from your lungs entirely, and you fought to return the oxygen he stole.

As Leto’s finger, now having removed the leather, worked to clean up the drool that had slipped down your chin, you can hear him chuckle. He doesn’t remove the blindfold yet, but he’s gentle with you, pressing a delicate kiss against your temple, followed by your cheek and nose.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, clearly impressed with your reactions.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” you pant softly, leaning into his touch as he gently cups your cheek in a tactile display of pride. It’s when you finally catch your breath that the blindfold is removed by Leto, and the first thing your eyes are drawn to is the wide smile on his lips, only just preceding the swirling desire that had settled in his irises. You’d need to be a good girl and do something about that.

END

@in-for-a-pennyx @hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @markywithissues @welcometostayingawake @inklore @foxilayde

[annmariethrush]

Been reading a lot of fix-it fics for the finale so I wrote one 👀

Dean helped save the world but without Castiel, he’s having a hard time finding a reason to keep living.

On AO3 or below the cut

“You asked what about all of this is real… We are.”

Dean sat in his recliner and stared blankly at the dark tv screen. His eyes moved ever further out of focus as the blankness of the screen bled into his thoughts. Cas was somewhere dark. Somewhere inky black and devoid of color and light and motion. Cas was stuck within this lifeless tv and it was because of Dean. He wondered idly if he could have jumped with Cas. Wondered if he could have hugged Cas so tight that the empty had to take them both. At least Cas wouldn’t be alone that way. At least Dean wouldn’t feel so alone. Then maybe the cold recliner next to him wouldn’t feel like damnation.

Dean didn’t notice when tears began to cloud his vision, but when he was dragged out of his daze by approaching noise he wiped at his eyes quickly. Sam wouldn’t understand Dean’s sorrow. They had saved the world, what was one friend lost for good in the context of all the friends they had managed to return. Dean didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t Sam’s disappointment and guilt over Jody fading from existence that he felt, or even the pain and rage of Eileen being ripped from the world again. He couldn’t name the way he felt when Cas was there, but when he was gone it was devastation. How was he supposed to burden Sam with the cannonball sized hole in his chest when he had Eileen back? The whole world! Dean wasn’t even sure that Sam truly missed Jack the way that he did either. He either didn’t feel or didn’t focus on the sudden loss of a child from their lives, one that they had helped to raise for three years. Perhaps Heaven wasn’t so far away, but all of the people Dean had lost were there, and Jack was yet another one. But Sam was always the one who had faith, and now he knew god and was loved by him, and that seemed to be enough.

It was not enough for Dean.

There were no words, so Dean simply allowed his anguish to well up in his chest and directed it towards Jack. He finished it with a quivering “Please” and hoped that it was enough to convey his message. Gone were the days of fiery rage which propelled him from moment to moment. Now his body pooled on the cushions of his recliner like a fresh corpse and his soul sank to his furthest edges, flat and barely contained by his loose grasp. He wished he could sink through the chair. Absently, he wondered if Eileen would understand how he felt from her time as a ghost. Intangible and insignificant. Far from the raging power of a poltergeist, simply a soul lingering where it doesn’t belong; untethered from reality.

Dean could play the happy big brother for Sam. He watched with a convincing smile as Sam and Eileen settled comfortably into a routine in the bunker. He encouraged them to go on hunts together, reassuring them that he would be here when they got back, that he would “hold down the fort” for them. But when they were gone the light in his eyes went dim entirely. He did not have a smile to spare even for Miracle.

Dean pondered killing himself. Would Cas have saved him if he knew how little his own life meant when Cas wasn’t in it? He knew the answer was yes, and if he had any anger to spare, he would have called Cas selfish for that. For taking the easy route instead of having to watch Dean die. Dean wondered what there was to live for with Cas dead, Jack gone, and Sam taken care of. He imagined his own funeral. Of course Sam would be sad, and Jody and Donna. Claire and Eileen might shed a few tears before steeling themselves. He decided not to though, not because he thought he shouldn’t as much as just because he didn’t have the energy to.

He tried not to beg. He knew Jack was busy being god. The universe no longer revolved around him after all, and with that came consequences. But nonetheless, he often caught himself staring off into space and radiating his devastation to the heavens. He couldn’t put words to it. What could he possibly say that Jack didn’t already know? So all he sent was the feeling. The rotting edges of a wound still oozing even as the scar tissue starts to rise. The purple and black splotches of bruised flesh, tender and warm to the touch. The sharp edge of a bone protruding from skin and muscle. A bullet ricocheting off of a rib and leaving shredded organs in its path. A loss so deep he couldn’t figure out how it hadn’t left him dead on the floor. So deep he wasn’t convinced it didn’t leave him dead on the floor.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon when color returns to the world. Sam and Eileen are in Wyoming hunting a ghoul and Dean is haunting the bunker. He holds a fresh cup of coffee as he walks to the library to poke at his computer for a few minutes. Dean is so absent from his own body that he hardly startles when Jack appears across from him. He considers putting on the smile he pulls out for Sam, but Jack hears his grief everyday, so it seems unnecessary. Deans mug lands almost gracefully on the table as he mumbles, “Hey kid. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry it took so long. I hope you can be fulfilled now. You deserve that, and so does he.”

Dean quirks his eyebrow, but Jack is gone again. The words start to filter through the few still working sections of his brain, but he rejects their conclusions. Things are bad enough, he will not allow something as foolish as hope to destroy him further. But he can’t figure out why Jack would do something so cruel. Jack is the only one who knows how he is feeling. Perhaps that was a poor call on his part and he shouldn’t have put that burden on his kid. Guilt washes over him as he leans back into his chair. How could he have been so selfish? He shouldn’t have been putting all his grief on Jack, he doesn’t deserve that.

“Dean?”

Dean becomes vaguely aware of a voice calling his name from somewhere deep in the bunker. Sam and Eileen are still days away and he isn’t expecting any visitors. His legs straighten as he rises from his seat on autopilot, coffee abandoned next to his computer and Miracle trailing behind him like a shadow.

The voice calls out again, and somewhere deep in his brain he feels recognition start to click into place. He rounds a corner and slams into another body, catching a glimpse of tan and white as he stumbles back. Then he’s clamped in a hug and, like a radio being tuned manually, the world starts to come into focus around him. He can hear and feel the person around him sobbing and murmuring his name and his arms have wrapped around them automatically before his brain is able to put the information together.

“Cas?”

He pulls back from the hug slowly, finally allowing himself to feel enough to fear that he might have totally lost it. Could he really be imagining the feeling of his angel in his arms? But when his eyes settle on the face in front of him that fear drips away to reveal a whole spectrum of emotions that had been greyed for weeks.

“Dean,” Cas’s eyes are wet, but he is smiling as wide as ever.

He isn’t sure what to say first, and he can’t begin to imagine the look on his face, if any expression has even appeared yet.

“You stupid son of a bitch, I love you too. How dare you die for me!” Dean is yelling.

He hasn’t yelled in weeks.

Cas’s cheeks go slack and his eyebrows furrow, but Dean barely sees before he grabs Cas by the face and pulls him in for a kiss. The force with which Dean pushes them together is almost violent, but Cas is an angel and Dean can feel. His eyes are squeezed shut, but the pain of the impact washes over him like warm spring rain, dragging away the dirt and grime left by melted snow. He can hear the sound of Cas’s hands rubbing across the fabric on his back and the jingle of Miracle’s collar as he paces slowly, trying to determine if Dean is in danger. He can smell the soft crack of ozone radiating from Cas’s skin surrounded by the musty, recycled air of the bunker. And when he finally opens his eyes, the fluorescent light of the bunker reflects dazzlingly off of Cas’s warm skin, and the radiant blue of his eyes drowns out all other inputs in Dean’s brain.

Cas smiles gently and slowly lifts a hand up to Dean’s face to wipe away the tears that have collected on his cheeks. Once his hand leaves Dean’s face again, Dean’s arms loop around his neck and pull him back into a bone crushing hug.

“I can’t do it without you Cas. I just can’t. You have to be real. You can’t go away again. Please, Cas. Please stay. I can’t do this without you.” Dean’s voice is trembling as the words tumble from his mouth. He means every one of them, even the ones he’s not sure he meant to say. He didn’t want to beg Jack, but he can beg Cas. He will beg as much as he needs to, but he can’t lose Cas again.

Cas’s arms tighten around Dean’s waist, and his voice flows deep and confident. “I’m here Dean. I’m real. We’re real. I’ll never leave you again.”