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Day 8!
In a moment of triumph also known as being victorious... Chop feels pride like this whenever he does... anything... from eating to opening a soda can.
Prompt list maker: @thepromptfoundry
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#art#oc#original art#digital art#my art#oc art#oc artwork#artclosetfcc#digital illustration#demon oc#chop the demon#I'm tired of tags
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I love you Safety Wizard.
(Inspired by @keroascrazy)
#safety wizard#wizard#Tumblr wants me to use the wizardposting tag so badly and I'm tempted. It's a good tag.#Shout out to stackedbirds for sending me the safety wizard post. Beloved mutual and beloved supplier of good wizard posts.#I will make it an open secret that I love me some good goofy wizards.#Safety Wizard has a special pizzazz that just gets the gears turning.#I like to imagine Safety Wizard began their studies as a traffic wizard. Then took some courses in roadside hazard magic.#This sparked an interest in safety magic and resulted in an eventual change of major - but the outfit stayed true to their roots.#All that said and done; The original costume is really good and I hope OP keeps up the good wizarding work.#Remember that distracted driving is extremely dangerous. Do not drive tired or in altered states of awareness.#It is always morally correct to call a friend of ride service if you have even the smallest doubt you will be a safe driver.#And *please* wear proper PPE on your job site. Do not put yourself or other's at risk!
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cobs destroys mephone's objectsonas
#inanimate insanity#mephone ii#ii mephone#steve cobs#mephonex#not gonna tag anyone else#I haven't slept in 24 hours the episode sent me into a frenzy#still feel like I'm freaking out now but I'm too physically tired to keep losing it over the show lol#this stupid doodle thing took me six hours to draw I don't even know why. I draw so slow it's not even funny#ii spoilers#inanimate insanity spoilers#ii 16 spoilers#oh my gosh I just realized I forgot the spoiler tags I'm so sorry
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card game
#ace attorney#miles edgeworth#phoenix wright#maya fey#franziska von karma#apollo justice#klavier gavin#ace attorney but i’m making a beach episode#part 4#i'm tired#uno#omg there's an uno tag#art#bllmak artwork
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All In
the beta fic you have been waiting months for <33 Ushijima Wakatoshi, Semi Eita & Tendou Satori x female reader w.c 6.8k tw: yandere themes, a/b/o, noncon, (sorta) smut, nsfw, one mention of blood and oozing wounds, implied stalking, forced claiming
“They’re good guys – good alphas. This won’t be like last time, I promise. You’ll see what I mean when you meet them,” Ayako murmurs, squeezing your hand in reassurance and offering you a brilliant grin. “They’re gonna love you.”
Love seems a bit of a stretch.
But Aya looks so… hopeful. You sigh. “You really like them, huh?”
“I really like them,” she admits, a pretty pink blush tingeing her cheeks. “You come first, though. You’re my beta, and if it doesn’t feel right, we’ll walk, okay? No questions asked.”
A promise she’s kept more than once. Too many times. Omegas like Aya, young and vibrant and oh-so-lovely, shouldn’t have any trouble finding a pack to settle down with. Hell, alphas should be banging down the door just for a chance with her – to fuck, to bond, anything and everything in between. You’re the sticking point. The reason why Ayako hasn’t bonded into a pack yet.
Alphas have no interest in betas. They do nothing for them – can’t take a knot, don’t have heats. Betas aren’t durable enough to ride out an alpha’s rut. All that compounded by the simple fact that bonding bites between the two don’t last longer than a few months, so why bother?
You’re dead weight. Aya clings to you anyway.
She pulls your hand to her cheek, the tender, delicate spot right beneath the curve of her jaw. Scenting, you realise a touch belatedly. Omegas have stronger scents than betas do; florals, spice, indulgent, enticing things – you once knew an omega whose scent reminded you of hot caramel drizzled over apple pie. Ayako smells like lilacs and the rain, a softer scent admittedly, yet one that screams of home and comfort and familiar things.
Your own scent is milder. Now, on top of sea salt and that faint whisper of summer, you’ll smell a little of her. She’s claiming you as pack, as hers. Her beta, exactly as she’d said
A flutter of warmth blooms in your chest, and you smile back at her, the first genuine one of the night.
“You look great, by the way,” she tells you. “Come on, Tendou messaged to say they’re running a bit late and we should head on in without them. Ushijima’s practice doesn’t finish up ‘til about seven, so we’ve got plenty of time for the show.” She winks and lets out a bubbling laugh and you kind of feel like you’ve missed the joke.
Nevertheless, you let her tug you into the stadium. The lady behind the ticketing counter slides across two visitor’s passes on lanyards when Ayako gives your names.
“Practices are closed to the public,” the omega explains in a hushed voice while the two of you make your way towards the door for the stands. “Apparently the team get a few passes they can hand out to whoever they like – pack, usually.”
The pass has your name printed on it. Beneath it, in bold; Ushijima Wakatoshi.
You finger the plastic edges absentmindedly.
There’s other people in the stands, all wearing the same style lanyard draped around your neck. Some, you think, are partners. Friends and family. Pack, like Ayako said. You spy a woman maybe a few years older than you, bouncing a toddler on her lap and pointing animatedly towards the court, another guy sitting beside her, an arm curled over the back of her seat. Others appear to be there in a more official capacity – staff, you suppose, wearing the same white polo edged in blue and gold (team colours, you guess), talking quietly amongst themselves and jotting things down on expensive looking tablets.
They pay you no mind. Ayako does the same, dragging you right up to the guard-rail with an excited gasp. You’d been expecting them to be running laps or tossing balls in pairs or something. You weren’t expecting anything like this.
Without the roar of a crowd, every noise on the court is amplified; the squeaking of shoes, the thwack of palms meeting leather, shouts ricocheting from both sides as they scramble for the ball.
Scramble isn’t the right word, though. It flies through the air between the players, choreographed chaos.
One of the players, a dark haired behemoth, shoots up and connects with the ball, slamming it over the net with a terrifying force – you feel the impact in your chest when it hits the floor.
A whistle rings out.
“Oh my god,” Aya breathes.
The behemoth turns, dark eyes zeroing in on your figure from across the court. His nostrils flare.
Alpha, you realise. He’s one of Aya’s alphas.
Ushijima Wakatoshi.
“You know he’s one of the top wing spikers in the country, and he’s on the national team? He’s already got like three Olympic medals! Three!” she gushes. “He’s incredible.”
You hardly hear her. The other players on the court, his teammates, are already re-setting, a blond slapping Ushijima on the back, another hurling a teasing jab across the net – earning him a middle finger in response – Ushijima’s gaze doesn’t shift, his attention doesn’t waver. You swear you see his pupils dilate.
Your breath is caught somewhere in your chest.
“Are you gonna wave at the alpha you dressed so pretty for?”
“Would you stop?” you hiss, tearing your gaze away to jab an elbow into Ayako’s side, which she artfully dodges with a delighted giggle.
“Can’t say I blame you for drooling. I practically melted into a puddle the first time Semi dragged him into the bakery. He’s hot as hell,” she sighs.
The problem is, she isn't wrong. Weird, heavy, way too intense eye contact aside, Ushijima is the textbook definition of ‘hot alpha’; all tall and broad shouldered, his face hewn with clean, strong lines. Add on the ridiculous athleticism, the muscles that clearly aren’t just for show – yeah, no wonder Aya’s got heart eyes already.
On the court below, the whistle blows. More cheers. Another point scored. By the time you glance down again, Ushijima’s lost interest, his focus returned to the game, nodding at something one of the (you presume) coaches yells across the court.
The tight, prickling feeling writhing beneath your skin, that doesn’t fade as quick.
God, you’re way too worked up about this whole thing.
“He’s very, uh…”
“Intimidating? No– impressive? Or were you gonna say sexy? All true, by the way. Ushiwaka’s a beast.”
The other two alphas have finally deigned to grace you with their presence. Wonderful.
Swallowing back a wince, you turn to face the duo. “Good,” you say. “I was going to say he’s very… good.”
Aya had told you the basics, of course; Semi’s the lead singer slash guitarist in a band, Tendou’s a chocolatier. The former used to be a civil servant, the latter recently moved back from a stint in Paris, and both of them played Volleyball with Ushijima in high school.
You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting. Carbon cutouts of their packmate, maybe, big, brawny, radiating the kind of imposing dominance that forces everyone around them – other alphas included – to sit down and shut up with a look alone.
The two alphas before you aren’t that.
The shorter of the two, more wiry in his build than the redhead beside him, smirks. “Good, huh?”
He’s teasing you. They’re both teasing you. Your cheeks burn hotter. Before you can open your mouth to apologise, try and sidestep you shoving your own foot in your mouth as a first impression, Aya intervenes.
“You should’ve seen her a minute ago, her jaw was on the ground. She’s playing it cool.”
The sound of her laugh digs at you in a way it shouldn’t.
It’s not fair, not when you’re the one who’s acting like you don’t have a single working brain cell and she’s trying to cover for you, but it bothers you when Ayako acts like she has to smoothe over your edges, make you more palatable, more pleasing. You’re not an omega, you won’t ever be an omega, and sometimes you can’t help but wonder if Aya’s gonna spend the rest of your lives trying to compensate for that.
Her shoulder knocks with yours, a gentle bump, that same hopeful, painfully optimistic look in her eyes.
Guilt, an old, familiar friend at this point, washes over you.
“This is Semi,” she introduces, gesturing at the ash-blond with the ripped jeans, “and Tendou,” the gangly redhead.
“And you must be our beta,” Semi surmises, slowly eyeing you over.
The casual possessiveness rankles you, your tight smile freezing in place. Again Ayako simply laughs, her fingers, very deliberately, lacing with yours once more. “She’s my beta, you have yet to win her over.”
Neither alpha appears all that put out by the prospect.
Tendou, eyes crinkling with a wide, eager grin that takes you a little aback, thrusts a hand out towards you, a white gift bag you hadn’t noticed dangling from his fingertips. “Presents help with the whole wooing thing, right?” he jokes.
From your experience, yes.
Aya’s received plenty. You, as her tag along beta, less so.
One pack brought you a bouquet of pink and white peonies on your first date. Not quite as extravagant as the arrangement of roses they presented Aya with, they had a lovely, subtle perfume and when you put them in a vase and set them atop your nightstand, they brightened up the whole room. You could appreciate that they’d at least tried to make you feel an equal part of this.
They’d been willing to play pretend.
Back then, when Aya first started bringing potential packs around, you were… idealistic. Naive, maybe.
You watched them dote on her. Lap up Aya’s attention like it was the sweetest fix. You saw the hunger. The arousal that flared, thick and syrupy, whenever she did something unintentionally appealing to the alpha inside of them – a simple stretch, nibbling on her bottom lip while she mulled over a menu, the sway of her hips as she walked up to the bar.
Oh, they were polite to you. Drew you into conversations, chatted about your job, your hobbies, the plans the two of you had for the holidays in a few weeks’ time – all the while tracking every movement of the omega beside you from the corner of their eyes.
They were nice to you. You didn’t want ‘nice’. You wanted what they so freely offered to Aya; hunger and captivated attention, a desire so thick in the air you could choke on it.
Foolish, pretty fantasies. There’s no competing with biology, you know that. The most interesting, beautiful beta in the room is still just a beta.
Down below, the court’s quieter, muted chatter drifting up to the bleachers in place of squeaking and thuds and the sharp trill of whistles blowing. Did the practice match finish up?
Aya squeezes your hand. Drops it. As subtle a cue as she can manage.
Brain kicking back into gear, you step closer and pluck the gift from the alpha’s outstretched hand, an odd little shiver trickling down your spine when the tips of your fingers graze his rough palm.
“Ah, thank you,” you say, remembering your manners at last.
Tendou’s eyes flutter shut, breathing in deep, shuddering a little on the exhale. When they open again, there’s a giddy sort of satisfaction creeping from his expression. He licks his lips, smiling wide. “Sea salt.”
“… Sorry?”
“The chocolates,” his chin juts towards the gift. “Sea salt caramel. I had a feeling, went with it. I’m not usually wrong.” He sounds absurdly proud of the fact.
“Oh.”
Beside you, Aya looks as lost as you feel. Semi, on the other hand, snorts, shaking his head. “You might wanna ease up on the beta, dude. She met you all of three minutes ago.”
“Yeah, but we’re gonna be besties. I can feel it.” Without warning he slings an arm over your shoulders, dragging you close to smush you into his side, unbothered by your startled yelp, the way the bag of chocolates smacks against his torso when the hand clutching it jerks out to steady yourself. “Don’t be jealous ‘cuz I’m already the favourite, Semi-Semi.”
Semi shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, leaning back against the centre railing behind him. Slowly, a smirk unfurls. A challenge. “For now.”
Plastered against Tendou’s side, swallowed up by the heat of him, the heady scent of cherrywood – of alpha – thick and strong, and with no sign of him letting you go anytime soon, you dart a glance to Aya.
Your best, oldest (admittedly only) friend, watching the three of you with a quirked eyebrow, expression otherwise indecipherable–
And then, she giggles, rolling her eyes with exasperated amusement. “Can we at least sit while you two fight over my well-earned spot?”
You wonder if they notice the brief look of concern she throws your way as Tendou relaxes his hold and the two usher you over to a seat, Semi snagging the one to your left, Aya taking the right.
Her promise from earlier rings in your head. One word and she’ll walk, no questions asked.
Aya needs a pack. She wants this one. She likes this one, but at some point, she’ll need one.
Omegas don’t do well long term without mates. Right now her heats are okay, manageable with suppressants and toys – eventually those won’t be enough. They’ll get worse, come without warning, more frequently. The suppressants won’t help, she’ll ache and burn up, forgo food, water, sleep…
The lucky ones end up hospitalised. The unlucky ones either end up dead or in situations where it’d be a kindness if they were.
“You okay?” she asks, whisper soft. Her voice won’t carry, the other two aren’t paying attention anyway. Semi’s thigh brushes up against yours when he spreads his legs wide, thumbing out a message on his phone, and Tendou’s leaning over the backrest between you, chin perched on his folded forearms, watching him type.
One word and she’ll walk, that’s what Aya promised.
Down on the court below, the players spread across the floor, stretching out and cooling down, half empty water bottles and sweat towels scattered around them. Ushjima’s lying on your side of the court, one thigh drawn over the other, twisting out his lower back. If he realises he’s got an audience in you and Aya, he gives no indication of caring, holding the stretch for a few seconds longer before repeating the motion with the other leg.
“Yeah.”
If chocolates and overly tactile besties are what you get out of this, you can manage that.
—
While you wait out front of the stadium for Ushijima to finish up, Semi smokes.
A lit cigarette dangles loosely between two fingers, the tip glowing cherry red with every drag. He stands separate from the three of you, a few feet away, because when he’d fished out the slightly crumpled packet from his jacket pocket to pluck one out, Aya’s nose wrinkled. Omegas are sensitive to strong smells at the best of times, and Aya’s loathed the stench of cigarettes ever since she was a kid and her dad would smoke on the back porch of her gran’s place. He died years ago, and to this day she swears up and down that every time she sets foot back there, she smells those Seven Stars.
To her credit, she hadn’t actually said anything, and to Semi’s, he hadn’t kicked up a fuss. He’d shrugged, shuffled on back and lit up anyway. Water off a duck’s back.
Tendou talks loudly and Aya’s giggling laugh echoes louder. Semi watches. Idle – bored, almost.
Until his gaze shifts to you.
And stays there.
From a young age, you’re taught that alphas are stronger than betas and omegas. They’re quicker. Smarter. In the old days, they tell you, alphas were the hunters, the providers – protectors, when the situation called for it. What they mean, dressing the truth up in nicer, more palatable terms is that alphas are, down to their marrow, predators.
Those instincts don’t go away just because society’s a little more civilised these days.
Semi’s expression doesn’t change. There’s nothing particularly dangerous or threatening there, nothing to explain the sudden ball of anxiety that lodges itself in your stomach.
Yet you can’t shake the sense that with that stare, every ounce of his focus rests solely on you. Every breath, every nervous twitch, shift of your muscles, all of it tracked, analysed. He stares, breathing out a slow plume of smoke, and you feel the physical weight of it bearing down on you.
He won’t bite, lunge for the kill – but he could.
His chin tilts, eyebrow lifting. A flicker of amusement, as if he knows exactly the thoughts running wild in your head. You shake them off, ignore the hammering of your heart to follow the wordless, beckoning call to his side, nudging Aya on the way past so she won’t think you’ve abandoned her.
“You realise she’s gonna try and get you to quit,” you tell him in what you hope is a friendly, upbeat tone.
Semi scoffs and takes another drag of his cigarette. You watch, off-kilter, a little dazed as his head tilts back, exposing the long, lithe column of his throat, and he slowly exhales.
With dark, sweeping lashes and angular features, the problem, you realise, is that Semi is distractingly pretty. An artless, grunged up sort of pretty. Pretty like pools of oil on asphalt after it rains.
Pretty in the way that poisonous things often are.
“She’s more than welcome to try.” He plucks his cig from his lips and extends it your way, his expression almost… goading.
You don’t take it.
There isn’t much surprise to be found in your refusal, his pretty mouth pursing as his arm falls by the wayside. “Omega’s got her claws stuck in you good, huh.”
And that’s the rub, isn’t it. What all this boils down to. Right from the start, the very first pack you met and every pack since – Aya’s made it clear from the get-go. They don’t get her without you. You’re her beta.
“Is that a problem for you?”
You won’t take the cigarette because Aya has issues with it. She won’t entertain you leaving her because the two of you are too fucking entangled in one another to handle extrication.
You’re pack, you’re family, you’re all each other has left, now that her grandma – the woman who essentially raised you and her – is gone.
You won’t play second fiddle, if only because Aya won’t allow them to push you aside like that. If that’s a problem, a dealbreaker (and, historically speaking, it has been) better they figure it out now, before she – or you – gets too attached and ends up hurt.
Semi regards you for a long moment, taking one last puff of his cigarette before he flicks it away, grinds the smoldering butt into the cement with the toe of his boot. “Don’t know yet. Guess we’ll find out.”
And you nod, because at least that’s an honest answer.
“Tendou came back to Japan for her, didn’t he?” It’d twigged when you’d gone to hand back your visitor’s pass and the lady behind the counter made some casual comment about not expecting to see him ‘til next season.
Not back for a visit, back permanently.
Semi shakes his head, “He was always coming back. Paris was only ever a temporary thing,” he corrects. “But yeah, he made the decision to come home early when we realised the opportunity that’d fallen into our laps.”
While you don’t love the way he makes meeting Aya sound, you understand the gravity of what he’s saying. Tendou uprooted his life for her.
You glance back over your shoulder, fiddling with the handles of the bag of chocolates he’d made for you. They’re still talking, quieter now, both of them subtly – subconsciously, probably – angled towards the two of you; Aya with that same bright-eyed look about her, Tendou like he’s just itching to interrupt and steal your attention back for himself. He, at least, might actually like you.
“And you? Are you all in, too?”
The words slip out before you can stop them. Semi doesn’t owe you an answer, you know that. It’s not fair that you asked, it’s just– you can’t get a read on him. For all his sharp edges and the smirks that make your insides squirm, you don’t know whether this is what he wants. Wanted, maybe.
Semi surprises you. In a move too quick for you to catch, he closes in on you. He doesn’t pin you down per se. You’re not caged in, trapped between his body and a wall. Physically speaking, there’s nothing stopping you from stepping back and regaining that inch of space as he looms over your shorter frame, tilting your chin upwards with two curled fingers like he’s going to kiss you.
Nothing except your suddenly jelly legs.
There’s barely anything separating you. Millimetres. Heat floods your face. Your stomach tightens, blood simmering, writhing beneath your skin. Long fingers encircle your wrist, right where Aya had scented you, his thumb digging in over your fluttering pulse. A noise escapes you then, a distressed sort of whimper you thought yourself above, and Semi’s eyes flick down to your lips, something dark and hungry flaring in response.
Alpha. Smaller than his packmates, but no less.
“Who d’you think called him and told him to get his ass back home, little beta?”
You swallow unsteadily–
“Time to share, Semi-Semi,” Tendou sings, snaking an arm around your waist to haul you away from the blond. To you, he says, “You wanna come say hi to our big, bad pack alpha, don’tcha?”
It’s then you realise that Ushijima, along with several of his teammates, have finally emerged. While they wave each other off, scattering across the carpark, some heading to their cars, others in the direction of buses and the train station, Ushijima halts near the door – Aya already skipping on over.
“Ah… yes?”
Tendou snickers.
“Relax,” Semi tells you with a smirk, clapping your shoulder as he brushes on past. “Ushiwaka doesn’t bite.”
As Tendou nudges you forward like an errant duckling, you fix Semi with an unimpressed look. He winks. Asshole.
Omegas, especially unbonded omegas, tend to be picky about touch and physical affection outside of pack and family. Aya, for all her moon-eyed infatuation, doesn’t throw herself at the alpha. Ushijima offers a single, wooden pat on her head, the edges of his mouth lifting in what you suppose is an approximation of a smile.
She beams all the same.
“– and this is my beta,” she introduces.
You’re not anticipating an overly warm welcome. For one, he looks stiff enough smiling at Aya to suspect he’s not practised with the expression, for another… the whole, weird staring thing from earlier sits all too fresh in your mind. If he’d heard your awkward fumbling with his packmates in the aftermath, you doubt that’s helped endear you to him any.
Nothing prepares you for the way he turns, every speck of goodwill falling from his features when your scent finally reaches him. Cold, remote stone, eyeing you down.
“You smell like lilacs,” he grunts, like the very concept offends him. You, a beta, wearing his would-be mate’s scent.
—
The izakaya the alphas take you to is only a few minutes walk from the stadium, and each one of them passes in near unbearable, stilted tension.
Aya doesn’t question you when you make a bee-line for the bathroom rather than following the others to a table, though the small furrow between her brows says plenty.
You just need a minute.
The single unisex stall offers spartan amenities at best – a sink with a cracked mirror hammered into the wall, paper towels, and a lone, flickering light above.
Braced over the porcelain vanity, eyes closed, shaking like a leaf with remnants of ice-cold water dripping down your face, you will the frantic, sickening churn inside you to ease.
Fuck.
What’s wrong with you?
Ushijima could barely stand that Aya had scented you, and you’re supposed to believe he’d let you bond into the pack with her? And if he did, what kind of life would that be? You, forever on the outside, pack but not really, not in the ways that matter.
What place does a beta have between alphas and their omega?
More to the point, how, after all the packs you and Aya have tried this with, all the the indifference and dismissal you’ve weathered, the cruel insults you weren’t supposed to hear–
Think of it this way, dude; it’s a spare hole for you to stick your cock in while the omega’s busy bouncing on my knot.
–how are you still surprised that they don’t want you?
You let a slow breath out, shoulders sagging. Okay.
Okay.
Straightening up, you rip a sheet of paper towel from the dispenser, dabbing to remove any trace of distress from your face. You can do this, you tell yourself. Smile, play pretend. A few drinks, some dumplings, yakitori – two, three hours max.
Nothing’s changed.
The alphas want Ayako. Ayako wants these alphas.
In spite of that, in spite of the blushing and fawning and big, lovely doe eyes that bat ever so prettily for her alphas, she’ll hold true to her promise if you ask it of her.
No questions asked, without an ounce of resentment, she’d walk away from them. She’d choose you.
It’d be a few weeks of moping around, picking each other up and dusting yourselves off. There’ll be other packs. Aya’s got a few years yet before her heats really become an issue. You can always try again.
The thing is… you don’t want to anymore.
They like you as a friend. You’re in the way. They wanna fuck you, but only if the omega’s otherwise occupied. You can take care of the household stuff during heats and ruts, right? Maybe one day there could be something more.
They wouldn’t look twice if it wasn’t for Ayako.
Every time it hurts, like clawing out pieces of yourself, and you just… you can’t anymore. You won’t.
So tonight, you’ll be the bestie. Let her have her fun, flirt with the big, strong alphas she’s so enamoured by, and then tomorrow… tomorrow you’ll find a way to cut yourself loose from all of this. Aya gets her pack and you can find a nice, normal beta to settle down with. You’ll both be happier for it in the long run.
Wiping a smudge of mascara from under your eye, you suck in another fortifying breath, nodding at yourself in the mirror. A few hours of pretending is nothing. A piece of cake.
Focused entirely on the veneer you have to slip into, you don’t notice the large, muscular frame blocking the door until you quite literally collide with it.
“Oof– Sorry, my b–”
The words wither like ash on your tongue when you look up to find Ushijima standing over you.
Despite the resolution you’d come to mere moments ago, you’re not feeling particularly charitable towards the hulking behemoth of an alpha, and you have every intention of wordlessly skirting around him to head back to the table and join your friend, civility be damned.
You make it all of a single step before a change sweeps over him and he stiffens, nostrils flaring like they had back on the court. His eyes bleed black, and that’s the only warning you get before he seizes your wrist in one giant hand and starts to haul you back into the stall, slamming the door shut behind you both.
“What the hell are you doing?!” you hiss.
“She scented you,” he growls, looking angrier than he did before. “You smell like omega.”
No, this isn’t anger. Not exactly. Ushijima’s shoulders heave with every breath, his whole frame almost shuddering, pulled taut like a bowstring primed to snap–
And that’s when realisation hits.
“You’re in a rut,” you whisper, eyes going wide in horror. “Ushiji–” You don’t get to finish the sentence.
Big should mean slow. Clumsy. Ushijima’s neither.
In an instant he surges into motion, one hand clamping down over your mouth, the other shoving you forward, trapping you on the tips of your toes between his hulking body and the vanity that was your lifeline five minutes ago. Just like then, your hands automatically reach out, clutching the edge of the sink to steady yourself. Stupid, when the full weight of Ushijima pins you precariously in place anyway.
Your heart hammers, panic and terror clawing at your stomach. You aren’t an omega, you can’t take a knot. If Ushijima tries to fuck you like he wants – like his instincts are driving him to – he’ll tear you apart. He’ll break you.
But if any part of the mindless, snarling alpha behind you recognises that, he doesn’t care. The warm body in his grasp smells like lilacs, like the omega outside, and that’s good enough.
He noses at your hair and pants, yanking your skirt up to rip at your underwear. The fabric gives easily.
While he rips and claws at his own clothes to free his cock, Ushijima stares at your reflection, watching you shake as the tears well up and spill over. There’s nothing human there, nothing cognizant. The black pits staring back at you are pure alpha, consumed by the need to fuck and breed.
You have seconds – seconds – to brace yourself.
Ushijima drags the head of his cock along your slit just once, bends you over, and without warning or preamble, splits you in two.
Omegas have slick to help with sudden ruts. You don’t.
It doesn’t matter that you’re not prepared to take him, that it hurts worse than anything you’ve experienced before and you’re choking on tears and muffled wails. You scream into his hand and Ushijima grunts, bullying his cock into you one agonising millimetre at a time.
He fucks into you like you’re made to take his cock, every thrust slamming you into the unforgiving edge of the sink while your legs scramble for purchase. You’re fairly sure you’re close to passing out when you feel the swell of his knot start to catch.
Oblivious to your panic, the wheezing cries and pleas dashed against his palm, the alpha snarls in open-mouthed pleasure, his spare hand coming down to cover one of your own, braced against the sink. “Mine.”
With the added weight, the vanity unit rattles against the wall, and you pray that someone’s walking by and hears it, cares enough to come investigate.
You aren’t that lucky, though.
Ushijima hauls you back upright, and as his knot swells, thick and pulsing, stretching you to breaking point and spurts of hot cum coat your insides, you cling on to consciousness just long enough to watch him tilt your chin to the side, lap at a bead of sweat trailing down your neck, and bury his teeth in your skin.
—
Three days after your release from hospital, you wake to Aya knocking at your bedroom.
“S’posed to be at the bakery,” you mumble, curling tighter into the warm cocoon of your sheets. Soft morning light spills into your room. You can’t be bothered reaching for your phone to see the time, however your internal clock tells you that whatever the time is, it’s too early.
Aya sighs, taking that as an invitation to slip inside and plant herself on the edge of the mattress beside you. “Soon. I swapped shifts so I could start a bit later. I didn’t want…” she seems to struggle to find the right words, her shoulders rising and falling in a helpless shrug. “You know I love you, right?”
“I know.”
That isn’t the problem.
“You remember the day your mom left?” The stark flinch beneath the covers must serve as answer enough. “You wouldn’t stop crying. Gran was so worried you’d make yourself sick, kept bringing you tea, bottles of water, anything to keep you hydrated.”
An omega like her granddaughter, the last of her alphas having passed away a few years before, she’d paced fretfully outside Aya’s bedroom door for hours while you’d sobbed into your best friend’s arms, an absolute wreck.
A bittersweet feeling floods your heart at the memory. No one ever loved you like gran did.
Aya continues, “I made a decision that day. I wasn’t going to leave. I wasn’t going to run off with a bunch of alphas to live out some fairytale happily ever after and leave you behind. You can blame me for what happened. I get it. If I hadn’t scented you, he–” she breaks off with a sharp inhale.
He wouldn’t have tipped into a rut.
Wouldn’t have fucked you.
Knotted you.
Bit you.
“You can blame me for it,” she repeats, though her voice shakes and her eyes shine with tears she won’t let fall. “Hate me for it if you have to, so long as you know I’m not going anywhere. You’re still my beta, my best friend. All I wanted was to keep us together.”
Aya waits for you to say something. To forgive or condemn, and you try– you genuinely do, because blaming her isn’t fair, and you could no sooner hate her than you could carve out a lung.
Only… you open your mouth and there’s nothing.
The way her expression collapses before she has a chance to plaster over it hits you like a punch to the stomach.
“Alright, lovely girl. I’ll see you when I get back – four-ish probably, unless we get hit with a late rush. I’ll try and steal some of those mini strawberry cakes to bring home too, I know how much you like them,” she rambles, patting your blanket covered knee and rising to her feet. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Aya–”
Already halfway to the door, she turns, perfect brow arched, “Hm?” Like she’s expecting you to ask for another blanket. Some tea. Nothing wrong, nothing amiss.
“Love you, too.”
And it’s like the sun coming out from the clouds. Aya beams a watery smile, and quietly closes the door behind her.
Sleep drags you back under before you hear the front door click. The doctors warned you about that; one of the many charming side effects you’d be subjected to over the next few weeks.
Bond sickness, they called it. An alpha’s bite formed a mating bond, and that bond doesn’t respond well when it’s neglected, say by putting several miles of distance between you and the alpha who marked you. For omegas it can be deadly if it goes on long enough. Alphas have a sense of it, but it doesn’t affect them in the same way. They don’t get sick. For you, it means a month or so of lethargy, aches, low grade fevers and chills, nausea, a veritable shopping list of symptoms that’ll ease and fade as the bond itself does.
None of that had stopped one of the nurse’s at the hospital from suggesting that, despite the delicate nature of the situation, it might be beneficial for your health if you moved in with Ushijima and his pack until it did fade.
It was Aya who’d jumped down her throat for that one.
You were still in shock. Numb–
Except for the foreign, slow simmering anger lodged like a thorn between your ribs. A small piece of you that wasn’t you at all.
—
Sometime around midmorning, you stir again.
There’s footsteps in the living room, pattering through towards your bedroom. Dancing on the edge of awake, your brain slow and sluggish, jumps to the most logical conclusion.
“Aya?”
You expect your door to open, that familiar bloom of lilacs to spill into your room along with your best friend, a bowl of noodle soup from the shop on the corner in tow, the strawberry cakes she promised earlier, extra pillows, coffee, her laptop with your favourite movie already queued up; comfort things she knows will help.
The door does swing open, and neither one of the tall, looming frames behind it belong to Aya.
“Sorry to disappoint, little beta,” Semi drawls, crossing the threshold like he has every right to be there. “Your girlfriend’s busy, you’re gonna have to play with us instead.”
The blood in your veins runs cold.
Drawing your legs up tight to put as much distance between you and the advancing alpha as you can, your eyes dart between the two, Tendou lingering in the doorway, fingers drumming against the jamb.
“I didn’t report him. I’m not going to,” you tell them, clutching at the blankets around you so your hands won’t shake. “I know how it’ll go, I’m not i-interested in–”
Semi reaches your bed. That look he’d had in his eyes back at the stadium, dark, focused, predatory – it’s there again, sharp and gleaming. He’s smirking.
“There’s no– you don’t need to threaten me, or-or try to scare me–” His knee hits the mattress and your voice jumps to a squeak as he climbs on up.
You squirm back against the headboard. Semi prowls closer.
There’s nowhere for you to go.
Tendou’s not so subtly placed himself between you and the exit, and even if you could launch yourself out of bed without Semi catching you – without your head spinning and stomach threatening to upheave – they’re alphas. You couldn’t outrun them on a good day, you sure as hell can’t fight them.
“Please. You can go. I-I won’t say anything.”
“Fuck, that’s cute,” Tendou shivers, the deep red of his iris nearly swallowed by black. His fingers aren’t idly drumming anymore, they’re digging into the wood, splintering it beneath his grip.
Inches away from you, Semi suddenly freezes, his attention snapping downwards to focus on something near his right hand. His nose wrinkles, lip curling. “You wanna know what I liked best about the omega?” he asks, lifting his gaze back to you. “I don’t think you really believed me back at the stadium.”
You shake your head. You don’t want to know. If they aren’t here to scare you into keeping your mouth shut about Ushijima, then–
A low, husky chuckle comes from the doorway.
“When she’d show up smelling like the sea in summer.”
He strikes hard and fast – seizing your ankle to yank you under him. His mouth finds the soft curve where your neck meets your shoulder and he bites down. Hard.
Agony washes you over you, chased by fire.
Panting wildly, your body locks up, arcing against him; against the warmth that crowds you, the hard muscles that cage you, the face now tucked into the crook of your neck, licking at the bloody, oozing wound.
He’s there inside of you, too. Buried beneath your skin, brimming with smug satisfaction.
“Bite her and we’ll take her home to the nest. I’m not fucking her here,” he calls over his shoulder, keeping his eyes fixed on you. He pats your hair, strokes your cheek. “Little beta needs her mates, don’t you?”
“Course she does!”
You’re gasping for air that won’t come, trembling, heart beating so frantically inside your chest you worry it’ll give out.
Tendou, bounding over with puppy-like eagerness, jumps on the bed and shoves his fellow alpha out of the way.
“A…ya,” you rasp, weakly pushing at the large body crawling atop yours. You’re not sure whether it’s a question or a plea, but you get the sense that it doesn’t actually matter either way.
Semi rolls his eyes – you can feel the flicker of his irritation – while Tendou, pawing at your sleep tee, pushing it up and shoving his face into the soft skin revealed there only groans, huffing at your scent like he can’t get enough.
“Pretty omega like her? She’ll have her own alphas to worry about,” Semi dismisses, a faint frown marring his pretty face as he zeros in on the bandage over your neck.
A split second too late, you realise his intentions.
“No, don’t–”
He rips off the gauze.
Ushijima’s bite is puffy and inflamed. Calloused fingertips drift over the edges of the wound, Semi’s eyes boring into you as you let out a low, anxious whine. As Tendou licks and nips at your chest, working his way upwards, the blond increases the pressure, digging in.
You choke on a cry, pleasure, rather than pain, flooding and overwhelming your senses, and deep in your core, the answering surge of rabid need rips through you so viciously it punches the air from your lungs–
“We don’t fucking share.”
–and you scream as Tendou’s teeth sink into the curve of your breast, claiming you one final time.
#yandere haikyuu#yandere haikyuu x reader#yandere ushijima#yandere semi#yandere tendou#yandere ushijima wakatoshi x reader#yandere semi eita x reader#yandere tendou satori x reader#tw: noncon#i feel like i'm missing a tag or two but it's late i'm tired i just wanna post#but yaaaaay beta fic's here#if one (1) person hits me with the 'she's secretly an omega'#i will commit acts of violence#okay?#okay :))
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they are rivals!!! and besties!!!!!! bestie rivals!!!!!!!! also scar will 100% sell you that magikarp
#these are just pokemon that i think suit them for some reason#weird crossover#not sure how to tag#traffic smp#?#grian#mumbo jumbo#goodtimeswithscar#this was actually fun to draw#but i'm tired now :)#plume art
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#ace attorney#gyakuten saiban#dahlia hawthorne#iris ace attorney#larry butz#franziska von karma#misty fey#pearl fey#elise deauxnim#maya fey#phoenix wright#fuck i'm so tired and lazy do i really need to tag everyone#aa#art#digital art#sketch dump#miyanagi chinami#ayame#karuma mei#yahari masashi#naruhodou ryuuichi#ayasato maiko#ayasato mayoi#ayasato hanami
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Gravity Falls magmas I hosted. Have fun looking at everything!
Some close ups of my stuff:
#be prepared for these tags.#the book of bill#gravity falls#dipper pines#mabel pines#bill cipher#stanford pines#ford pines#stanley pines#stan pines#soos ramirez#giffany#rumble mcskirmish#wendy corduroy#pacifica northwest#dipcifica#yes the ship#billford#baby bill cipher#human bill cipher#various of them.#trans dipper pines#waddles the pig#fiddleford mcgucket#i'm getting tired#tails ended up on here bc of my icon#magma art#rovers art#artists on tumblr#the post broke ummm oops i fixed it now.
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cubfan in my sketchbook what he do
pls reglbog my art 💜
#MYART#mcyt#mcytblr#hermitcraft#hermitblr#hermitcraft cubfan#cubfan135#cubfan fanart#hc cubfan#cubfan tag#i made this without any sleep#i'm tired#cannot sleep though because god just hates me#he's kinda hot...#who said that#anyway#convex
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"Calm yourself young Prince, you know excitement is unbecoming of a Goetia."
2.01 - The Circus || 2.09 - Apology Tour
#helluva boss#apology tour#stolas#stolas goetia#blitzø#blitzo#couldn't find anything putting these two scenes together so i did it myself#what are even the relevant tags here? i dunno and i'm too tired to find out#my stuff
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He sure is having a bad time
I HAD TO. Dw, I'mma leave now—
#linked universe#lu#lu fanart#lu time#linked universe time#what did y'all expect it's febuwhump#the fact I'm drawing this to the cheeriest fairy tail ost there is tho-#the irony#the power of friendship ain't saving this one#tw: blood#tw: eye trauma#tw: eye injury#please tell me if I forgot a tw tag#it's late and i'm tired
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Thought too hard about the 200 Graves prayer and now I'm sad.
"The Tomb I will serve till the end of my days, and then see me buried in two hundred graves."
Only 200. Harrow is so wrapped up in making the genocide that conceived her worth it that she will never allow herself to be a person in her own right. Harrowhark Nonagesimus is the greatest necromancer of her generation, the shining jewel of the ninth and the perfect reverend daughter, and when she dies she will have no grave of her own. She will be nothing but a monument to the atrocity that made her because that was all she was in life.
#tlt#The locked tomb#I'm so tired I'm gonna try to tag this corectly#tlt spoilers#harrow the ninth#htn spoilers#If I missed anything please tell me
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Rewatching Arcane - so here's an attempt at drawing Viktor
#my art#this is an incredibly messy attempt but still- I will tag#arcane#viktor arcane#league of legends#I'm tired from being in the lab the past week and I'm passing it to him#I miss him :'( and Silco as well#this year has been a weird one for me - 2020-2023?? ONLY OC ART#this year tho?? gently stuffing sporadic fanart under peoples doors
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i genuinely don't care how good a piece of ai generated art or writing looks on the surface. i don't care if it emulates brush strokes and metaphor in a way indistinguishable from those created by a person.
it is not the product of thoughtful creation. it offers no insights into the creator's life or viewpoint. it has no connection to a moment in time or a place or an attitude. it has no perspective. it has no value.
it's empty, it's hollow, and it exists only to generate clicks (and by extension, ad revenue.)
it's just another revolting symptom of the disease that is late stage capitalism, and it fucking sucks.
#''but i just want to use it to--'' don't care! it's shit! stop fucking feeding it!#if you need help generating ideas or jumping off points then join an artist or writer group online#talk to people#make connections#that's what art and writing is supposed to be about in the first place#i'm mad as hell etc.#so goddamn sick and tired of seeing ai shit get passed around on here#it's bad enough in general but every time i see more of it showing up#tagged as fan art or as fic#the angrier i get#heartfelt imperfection in art and writing will always ALWAYS be worth more than the most technically ''perfect'' ai generated image or text#fandom problems#ai generation algorithms die in a fire challenge 2k23#just a heads up that i'm muting this post and will no longer see responses to it#because i'm tired of seeing dogshit takes from jackasses who want to ''debate'' me#there's no debate you're in the wrong on literally every level and you can die mad about it
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pupigoat beastars au first meeting thing lol part two of this
i made this tags real lol
they talked all day <3
#my art#cotl#the goat#wolf narinder#kirander#modern au#i guess???#still i'm just fucking around with this#chat does my account feel like a big adhd moment? i keep jumping from thing to thing it must be tiring#too many things in my head ouchy#also if you reconized the backward italian swear ... i love you a little bit <3#pupigoat#did i forgot the ship tag again? yes... yes i did
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Disparities Between Our Souls
PROLOGUE - Someone I Have Loved, But Never Known
Retelling of this
Prologue -> Chapter 1
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Lonely.
That’s what it was like in this manor.
It wasn’t forsaken, quite the contrary actually. It was full of life, many resided in this plot and many more visited, but those figures were strangers to you. Strangers whom you knew the name and face of, strangers whose secret lives were known to you, but strangers nonetheless.
Much to your misfortune, your father was one of these said strangers. Your only proper conversation with him was when you first moved to the mansion and were introduced to your father.
From the first moment you met him, you knew your relationship would be strained. After all, he didn’t even bother to pick you up with the butler when you were revealed to be his daughter. His public persona of a playboy certainly didn’t help this opinion of yours towards him.
Alas, your instincts were right. You barely saw him in the manor—in fact, you saw Alfred more than him.
What you didn’t realise at the time though was that your siblings would also leave you in the dark. That you would be a lonely person despite not being an only child. Excuses piled upon excuses whenever you tried to talk to them.
Dick was “busy with Bludhaven, he’s sorry he can’t come.” You envied him, he had good relations with almost everyone in the family and everyone connected to the Waynes or Batman.
Jason… Oh dear. He was your baby brother that went through too much, too young. He was your sole companion in the manor before he died, but now, your relationship was just as strained as it was with the other members of your family.
Tim’s time was taken up with solving cases or taking naps in the most random spots. You knew more than most that it was better to leave him alone to his own devices.
Damian had hated your very existence. Initially you tried but eventually you gave up, like what you did with the others, when you could see that harboured nothing other than hatred for you.
The only exception to this conundrum of yours was Cassandra. You two were finally forming a friendship after the barrier between you two finally crumbled. You weren’t close just yet, but it was getting there. Hell, you’re even proud to call her your sister.
Your upbringing was vastly different to your current life. You grew up with your aunt, your sweet lovable aunt. You dearly missed the simpler times when it was just you and your aunt, not with this ‘family’ of yours.
If you could, you would still be living with her, but the circumstances were not in your favour. Instead, you spent your days alone in a manor as big as the hole in your soul created by the loneliness you’ve been living with for the past few years. In fact, that’s what you were doing right now. Eating your dinner separate from your family in order to not felt left out, ironically enough.
You didn’t hate them, no. In fact, you held admiration for them for protecting Gotham and other cities, but when your auntie sent you to live with the Waynes in hopes to live a better and more social life, disappointment was inevitable.
Another day passes by in Gotham, nothing of note worthy happened during the day, and nothing that differed from the usual happened at night. Batman and Robin were on patrol, and the rest were doing their own patrol or dealing with other things, which you assumed were criminal-related as well.
You slept in the quiet of your room. The only thing seemingly out of place was the barely audible sound of small legs scattering on the floors. An anomaly in the usually clean and arachnid-free Wayne Manor. Not as if you would hear it though, after all, why would you be awake in the dead of night?
The pain that was induced to your arm was definitely a reason why. Your eyes snap open and although your mind was still half-asleep, you could tell that this pain was like no other. To make matters worse, lifting any part of your body felt impossible, like your flesh was suddenly replaced with lead.
Your vision becomes blurry, tears welling in your eyes as you suddenly felt the room get hotter and hotter. Or was that your body getting warmer? You couldn’t tell with everything happening almost all at once. Your breaths shorten and become shallow from not only the sudden fever, but also the overwhelming sensations.
In the corner of your eye, you think you see a colourful circle, oddly resembling a portal that people would see in movies, but you were pretty sure your mind was deceiving you. You definitely didn’t care right now, all you wanted was to get rid of all this pain and go back to sleep. You wanted to call out to Alfred, but he was most likely in the Batcave and something in your gut told you your voice wouldn’t reach him even if he wasn’t.
Your vision faded in and out, everything was swirling, even when you closed your eyes. You could feel the sensation of being pulled, but you had no chance nor energy to fight against it.
All too fast, yet simultaneously all too slow, your mind faded to black, the pain too much to deal with.
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Taglist
@kik1010 @cxcilla @00hellohello00 @bluepanda08 @frankie-moon3 @guyfuitty @lumi320 @type-ink @kye-chen-r @sugasweettea @sillyheartmoonnyx
Finally done this oml. Sorry this is so short, I wanted to add more of the original idea, like introducing Miguel, but it didn't feel like it fit as a prologue so I cut it and moved it into the first chapter, which I will try to make longer
This isn't edited, so there will most likely be mistakes, feel free to point those out and I will fix them as soon as possible. I also don't speak Spanish, only English and Tagalog so if those two words were kinda cringe for all you Spanish speakers, just tell me and I'll remove them lmao
I was writing this through a writer's block and a splitting headache so I apologise if the writing is a bit sub-par
I'd also like to mention that this story will be a bit slower paced, so do with that what you will
Thank you all for the support in the OG post as well, that honestly made my week
Have a great day/night everybody <3
#batfam x reader#dbos#astraeus-tree#batfamily x reader#batfamily x neglected reader#damian al ghul#alfred pennyworth#bruce wayne#jason todd#richard grayson#damian wayne#tim drake#cassandra cain#tim drake wayne#x reader#gn reader#reader insert#disparities between our souls#neglected reader#platonic batfam#but is it really platonic if theres no relation going on??#Honestly idk#Frankly I'm too tired for this#Its 11 pm for me#I should probably stop talking in the tags#Im too used to ao3 tagging I cant do this
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