#i need to keep practicing and get better at it

[ceilidho]

fig. 1. hand in dog mouth | Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Reader

MASTERLIST · AO3

The first time he smells her from inside the woman's locker room, it brings him to a halt. The human voice in his head grows dimmer and dimmer until it ceases to make a sound.

or: the forced mating omegaverse au

tags: Size Difference, Size Kink, Omegaverse, Explicit Sexual Content, AFAB Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping, Heavy Noncon/Dubcon Elements

“Fuckin’ gym isnae giei’ me a free month even though ah have tae drive tae practically the other side o’ the country tae get a decent pump in.”

“Mate, I can’t understand you when you get all worked up,” Gaz sighs on the other end of the phone, probably pinching the bridge of his nose. A lot of their conversations end up that way, one of them quickly losing patience with the other until the call abruptly ends.

Johnny drops his gym bag in the back and slams the car door shut, rounding to the other side to get in on the driver’s side. 

“Ah said, they aren’y refunding me fer the month even though the other location is on the other side o’ town. That’s a half hour back ‘n forth,” he gripes. The call switches to bluetooth a couple seconds after starting the car, Gaz’s exasperated voice coming from the speaker instead of his cell. 

“Don’t you already get a discount?”

“That’s jus’ fer bein’ a vet. This is completely different. It’s gonna be closed fer a month fer renovations. Ah cannae do this fer a whole month.”

“Hey, I know where you live. Aren’t there other gyms around that you could go to instead?”

“Are ye out o’ yer fuckin’ mind, Gaz? Ah’m no’ payin’ ten quid fer a fuckin’ day pass when ah already pay out the nose fer a membership.” 

“No need to get mad at me, mate, I’m just giving you suggestions.” 

“Well, keep them tae yerself if they’re all that bad.”

“Okay, this has been a great chat. I hope you blow a tire on the way there and try calling me for help so I can ignore it.”

The call ends with a loud beep and Johnny barks out a laugh as he reverses out of his spot, looping out of the lot and onto the main road.

He takes the highway because most of the slush and snow has long been cleaned off, though his wipers pump back and forth furiously to keep the snow flurries from sticking to the windshield. That already sets the tone for his evening. He nearly gets in an accident twice on the way there, everyone losing their ability to drive the second the weather is even slightly bad. 

He should just be lucky his gym even has another branch. They could’ve left him high and dry for the month, forced him to go to one the other gyms in his neighborhood that don’t offer the same range of weights and veteran’s discount. 

Worse, he could’ve been left with no choice but to use Gaz’s guest pass to his exorbitantly overpriced luxury gym downtown. Even the thought makes Johnny shudder. It could always be worse.

It’s so much more than just the drive that he hates about the other location. Like the first time he came here months ago when an appointment on the other side of town made him think it would be more convenient to pop in rather than heading back home for his workout, the parking lot is packed when he arrives, and he has to circle the lot twice before a spot frees up. 

The gym is similarly packed when Johnny walks in, and his mood darkens as he scans the weight section for a free bench. None in sight. Just meathead after meathead lining the far wall, huffing and puffing with each rep, dumbbells scattered around. 

Headphones slipped on and music loud enough to make his ears ring, he heads to the treadmills instead. Better to just start his workout like usual and hope for the best. 

The air stinks of sweat and hormones, alpha pheromones wafting through the gym and leaving not a corner untouched. It’s one of the reasons he prefers the location closer to his place—convenience aside, his location is mainly frequented by betas and omegas, the odd alpha not having much of an impact on the overall vibe. 

It’s not that he doesn’t have plenty of alpha friends (Gaz being just one of them), it’s just that sometimes he likes being the biggest, meanest thing in the room. Keeps him in line. Keeps him from being the stupid shit he is ninety-nine percent of the time, as Gaz would say. He likes to be the only one posturing. 

So he doesn’t relish being forced to work out with a million carbon copies of himself. It’s nothing Johnny isn’t used to at least—a decade in the military and a lifetime of contact sport before that had been enough of an education in coexisting with other alphas—but it leaves him on edge, muscles bunching up until his shoulders are nearly up to his ears. 

Running loosens him up. Distracts him from the urge to sink his teeth into something tender and shake until it bleeds. 

A brisk walk to a light jog to a full on sprint. Tongue suctioned to the roof of his mouth, sharpened canines throbbing. The most natural state in the world—legs pumping under him faster and faster, the faint memory of bare feet on a cold forest floor turning over loose soil with every stride. The steady pound of his feet against the ground rumbling through him.

It’s a pale imitation of the real deal, but the taste of salt and rust on the back of his tongue keep him grounded. The beast in his chest rumbles its approval. 

When a bench finally frees up, Johnny has to dash across the gym when he sees another alpha nearby eyeing his spot. He reaches the bench a few seconds before the other man though, slinging his sweat-drenched towel across the seat to claim it as his. The alpha hovers for a tense second, face screwed up in anger and nostrils flared like he might put up a fight for it. 

Do it, Johnny almost growls, teeth itching. Try it and see what happens.

Lucky for both of them that the other alpha knows when to cut his losses. He shoulder checks another alpha as he stomps back to the leg press machine and nearly starts a whole other fight, but that’s none of Johnny’s business. 

He cringes when he finally looks down at the bench only to find someone’s back outlined in sweat. Entitled shitheads at this gym can’t even be bothered to clean up after themselves. 

The noxious miasma of alpha stench would make his eyes water if he weren’t so used to it. Pungent and sharp, like gargling brine. 

A month can’t go by quick enough.

He leaves feeling worse than when he came in. Shoulders tight with tension and irritation crackling through him. Doesn’t even bother throwing a halfhearted see you later to the front desk workers on his way out. The height of rudeness. Not even rude so much as just not him; Johnny likes to talk, he likes to be friendly with the staff. It speaks to the anger riding high in his blood that he can’t even pretend. 

To make it worse, his car is covered in snow when he makes it back, forcing him to spend an extra five minutes cleaning the shit off before he can finally leave. 

It’s untenable. He can mind his ego for a paycheck, but on his own time his patience curls up into a ball in his chest and goes to sleep. It’s not a question of if he’ll lose his temper but when. Inevitable. His pugnacity has always been his downfall; his Achilles’ heel. Always cutting himself down on a sharp tooth.

The rosary beads dangling from the rearview window sway with the car when he takes a tight turn. 

“Ah ken,” Johnny mumbles to himself, silver cross glinting under the stoplight. “Ah can do a month. Ah can keep it together.”

The next couple of times are just as bad. It’s always crowded during his preferred usual time and it always stinks, like the staff know they’re fighting a losing battle trying to keep the place clean so they don’t even try. 

The sorry fuckin’ state of this place, Johnny thinks in revulsion, sneering down at yet another machine damp with sweat from the guy before him. It takes him a minute to wrestle down the impulse to chase after the other alpha and drag him back by his hair before shoving him face down into the puddle of sweat on the seat he left for someone else to clean up. 

Only the threat of being permanently banned keeps his temper in check. That can only last for so long though.

It’s gotten to the point where he seriously considers taking Gaz up on his offer to come with him to the gym downtown. He’s a danger to himself and others here; a walking time bomb rapidly ticking down. Each day, something new tests the limits of his patience, like when he comes in one crowded afternoon only to find all of the lockers taken, the locker room stuffed to the brim with alphas and a few straggler betas. 

He sits in his car with the heat on for an hour until the gym clears out, steaming enough to fog up the windows. Nearly turns right back around when he enters the locker room to find it absolutely demolished—damp towels strewn about, shower water all over the floor, and stinking to high heavens of sweat, body odour, and piss. 

There’s still a dent in one of the lockers from the brief loss of his temper. He doesn’t cop to it, but he makes a point to only use the lockers on the other side of the room from then on.

He’s desperate enough to join Gaz at his fancy downtown gym all of one time, but the facilities there are so serene and sterile that his skin crawls the moment he walks in. Soothing spa music echoes through the three-story gym (no, wellness centre, the staff correct him at the check-in desk, and Gaz has to kick his bad knee to keep Johnny from howling) and verdant green plants grow from pots placed around the facility. 

Like working out in the jungle, he thinks sardonically. 

“How can ye even concentrate here?” he asks, aghast, staring at the group of limber, flexible bodies stretching and straining in a group yoga class behind a nearby glass wall. He licks his lips. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

“Ah’m no’ gonna get kicked out for breathing too loud, am ah?” 

“If anything, you’re gonna get kicked out for public indecency,” Gaz sneers, looking down pointedly at Johnny’s open hand inching towards his crotch. “Can you chill out, mate?”

“It’s no’ my fault! They’re arching their backs ‘n pushing their tits out. Ah shouldnae have to look at that when ah’m tryin’ tae work out.” 

“Would it kill you to not run your mouth off for five fucking minutes?”

Johnny mimes zipping his lips and then follows Gaz downstairs to the locker room, where the wall-length granite sink and infrared sauna make his eyes nearly bug out of his head. 

To no one’s surprise, he doesn’t go back. Gaz doesn’t ask him again either.

An appointment one day pushes his schedule back a couple hours and he shows up later than usual, his teeth clenched tight the whole drive over because he expects the worst. Double the occupants, double the meatheads. 

But when he pulls into a near empty lot, the knot of tension in his chest loosens. Only a handful of cars, and most of them are parked near the take-out place at the other end of the complex. 

It’s practically a wasteland when Johnny walks in. A few people here and there, but otherwise deserted. Only a single person posted near the free weights. 

Even the locker room is more palatable. Freshly cleaned and stocked with new towels. All of the showers have been scrubbed down and dried, the curtains tucked behind the holdbacks and waiting for someone to use them. It’s like walking into a brand new gym. 

“Yeah, this is kind of the sweet spot,” a staff member tells him when he rocks up to the desk to ask about it. “We get a lot of alphas that come here right after five, so when it empties out around nine, we have the cleaning staff come in to sanitize everything.”

“Well shit,” he laughs, pushing back from the desk and lacing his hands behind his head. “Guess yer gonna see me more often.”

True to his word, he starts showing up later and later, the streetlights plump and gold when he swerves into the parking lot and parks in the middle of two spots purely because he can. There’s a new bounce to his gait, a pep in his step. 

It fucks up Johnny’s schedule for a bit, but it’s well worth getting home well after midnight if it means that he gets the gym to himself. No one to complain when he groans and pants through each rep, sweat dripping from his face and body onto the floor, weights slammed against the mat with a loud thud every time he finishes a set. 

(In truth, he’s no better than the alphas that plague the gym during the evening hours, but he’s long made peace with being a hypocrite.)

For a moment, it seems like life will at least be bearable until the month is over and he can go back to training at his regular gym. All he has to do is wait it out. 

When it first catches his nose, he splinters down the middle.

It happens when Johnny’s on his way out for the night, muscles warm and only slightly sore, the kind of soreness that’ll dissipate by the time he flops into bed. It’s later than usual—closer to one than twelve, and he’ll feel it in the morning when he’s forced to get up at his usual hour—but there’s hardly anyone else in the gym and for that, it’s worth it. 

The strap of his gym bag digs into his shoulder as he tosses a hand up on his way, saying goodbye to the beta manning the front desk on his own. A shame that he’s stuck on his own all night. It would drive Johnny crazy to be stuck at work with no one to talk to—it’s one of the reasons that he followed Gaz into private security when they both got out of the service. 

He turns around, about to step out of the gym, when a peculiar smell tries to sneak past him. A slippery thing, silverfish quick and just as conspicuous. 

He catches it though. Hunting dog with a purebred snout, he sniffs it the second it wafts under his nose and goes ramrod straight, egress forgotten. 

The door to the women's locker room is closed, but he can smell the faint traces of the omega’s scent clinging to it. She must have touched it on her way out. Must have placed her palm against the door and shoved. The alpha beneath his skin that wears his face stills as well, everything vanishing into the singular nature of the scent emanating from the locker room door. 

In twenty-nine years, he’s never felt so—

(unmoored, untethered

sinking into it like a stone, not coming apart but unraveling altogether—)

He breathes in again and it’s fainter now, but he can still smell it. Candy pink frosting, so sweet that his teeth hurt and his dick throbs. Juicy like a ripe peach waiting for his teeth. It wafts from the women’s locker room, so subtle that it’s clear that whoever it belonged to is long gone. He must have just missed her, an hour separating them at most. 

It’s like nothing he’s ever smelt before. No omega in heat has ever made his head spin like this, every inch of him attuned to a single scent. Even slick on his tongue has never made him feel like this, rut thundering through his bones and snapping him into a new shape.

The hunger shifts from his throat to his stomach, settling in deep. And the beast under his skin that wears his face opens its maw, ropey strands of spittle stringing between its teeth. 

“Hey man, you good?” 

Johnny blinks, looking over his shoulder to find the guy at the front desk frowning at him. It snaps him out of whatever spell he’d been under. His alpha recedes beneath his skin again, hungering but quieter. 

“Uh…” he clears his throat, pulling the strap of his bag back up onto his shoulder from where it slipped down. Gives the guy a thumbs up. “Yeah. Sorry—lost my train o’ thought.”

The employee stares at him for a beat before mumbling, “Okay…” under his breath and looking back down at the computer.

Johnny stares at the door for another few seconds before finally leaving.

He sweats all the way home. Worries, wonder, and woes. Blinks and suddenly his exit is next, another car behind him honking when he changes lanes abruptly without signalling. Haud yer wheesht, he thinks and flips the other driver off for good measure. 

At home, he paces the length of his house thinking about that omega’s scent until it’s time for bed. Then he tosses and turns until his sleep grows profound and swallows him whole like Jonah. Into the belly of the beast. Nothing to do but let it spit him back out like a peachstone. 

Then morning comes and his jaw clicks when he yawns and his bad knee hurts. 

But worse than the snow pelting his windshield on the drive to work and worse than the cold stinging his face when he parks and stops for his morning coffee is the memory of that smell. 

It’s not as if he doesn’t have any experience with omegas. Despite growing up under the thumb of four alpha sisters, Johnny’s been popular with omegas his whole life. His history with them is an assortment of sordid trysts and quick flings, good enough to scratch an itch but not enough to make him want to bite and keep. 

Sticky, messy, syrupy ruts spent buried between an omega’s soft thighs, gorging himself on slick and pussy; nudging his cock against pillowy lips and then thrusting down their throat, hand palming the base of their skull to hold them in place. 

It’s always been like that though. One and done; a couple days at most to work through the worst of his rut and then out the door, a messy kiss for the road before whistling his way home. Johnny’s good for that. A romp in the hay, a roll in the sack. Generous with his fingers and mouth and cock. 

He’s never craved an omega like this though, never fevered like he fevers now. Itched like his skin was turned inside out in his sleep.

Waking up in the middle of the night panting, the covers under him drenched with sweat and his knot throbbing in his hand, already swollen and aching. Fisting his cock until he has no choice but to roll over and bury his teeth into his pillow, humping the mattress frantically until he comes, eyes watering with the force of his orgasm. 

No tonic for this ailment. It simmers in his blood, infatuation decocting into full blown obsession.

Brontide as leitmotif and it rumbles in his ears. 

Wandering through the city punch-drunk, always waiting for it to catch his nose somewhere else. In line at a salad bar, always a head taller than everyone else (which he’s still getting used to, which is still a strange new fact of civilian life); at a local venue with Gaz for a concert, scenting the air for any sign of them; seated at the back of the coffee shop across the street from the gym, eyes trained on the door.

Waiting. Always waiting. 

And, hungering like a starved dog. 

Saliva pooling in his mouth when he thinks of what it’ll be like when he finally has them under him, desperate and cloying and wet. 

Other omegas smell sickly to him now, off somehow. A facsimile of what he knows is out there waiting for him. He’s not down for a quick fuck anymore. A hand on his chest and doe eyes blinking up at him makes him shudder now, grimacing down at the omega trying to compete for his attention when out there there’s—

His omega.  

Just for him. Made to take his knot and clench around it and squeal when he pumps them full— 

Hishishishishishis. 

So he shrugs her hand off and sends her on her way. 

Johnny spends weeks trying to line up their schedules—his and that elusive omega’s whose scent still permeates the gym even though he never actually sees them in the flesh—to no avail. Even though he’s there waiting at the gym nearly every day, they must stagger their visits. Worse, they seem to come at irregular hours; some days, Johnny shows up and though he can smell the omega’s scent, it’s flat, stale. Like they’ve been gone for hours, ages. Only the oil from their hands still embedded in the dumbbells on the rack. 

He doesn’t even care if anyone’s watching when he brings one up to his nose and breathes in. 

Then abruptly, the scent disappears, and with it, his soundness of mind.

A week gasping for air, flopping belly up. Breathing in nothing, not even the old, stale scent of his omega because they’re gone suddenly without warning. The first couple of days are manageable only because he doesn’t notice it at first, used to his omega taking a couple days off at a time to rest and recover, but then two days stretch into three. And then into four. 

Johnny’s long thought of himself as wild and self-reliant, not accountable to anyone or anything apart from himself. It takes four days to obliterate that notion. 

On the fourth day, he wakes up and his agony crawls out of his mouth on spindly legs. 

It follows him to work and back, an ache between his shoulder blades and a gnawing, wretched hunger for something he can’t have because it’s beyond his grasp. Smoke now, lost in the ether. He drives across town before and after work, hoping that they’ll suddenly reappear and set his mind at ease, but the gym only smells of alpha funk and his own souring mood. 

Too long without it. He’s nothing but a shell of himself in its absence, without the scent of his omega to calm him down, and it makes Johnny realize that he wasn’t doing well on his own before but just barely surviving. Barely keeping his head above water. 

Ghost hauls him out of a bar by the scruff of his neck on Saturday night when he almost starts a fight, and only sinking his canines into the other alpha’s forearm calms him down. He slumps forward in the bigger man’s hold and whines when Ghost strokes a hand down his back and murmurs something vaguely soothing in his ear, his words muffled by the mask. He even lets Ghost drag him back home and curls up on his couch until a balled sock hits his head and he slinks into Ghost’s bedroom, dragging his feet the whole way.

His longing is excruciating. Pathetic. Like a dog with its own empty bowl in its mouth begging for scraps.  

Gaz still calls every day because they’ve been joined at the hip since they first met almost a decade ago and it’s not long before he picks up on the shaky note in Johnny’s voice, stilted conversations becoming wholly incomprehensible. Even Price calls him towards the end of the week to ask if he’s doing alright. No, sir. Yes, sir. Ah’m fine, sir. 

“Was it Gaz who snitched?” Johnny gripes, cutting a side-eyed glare at the alpha on the bench next to him curling sixty pound weights and groaning like he’s getting sucked off at the same time. Still no sign of his omega. 

“Well, it wasn’t Simon.”

That makes him snort. Last time he tells that traitor a goddamn thing about his life. 

Absence does not make the heart grow fonder. It makes the world seem fetid and bland, and he looks out at it through dull eyes, anger kindling inside. Makes his stomach cramp like there’s nothing in it. It takes the sheen out of an oil spill, leaving only the mess and rot behind. 

And then suddenly it’s back like nothing happened, stopping him in his tracks as he walks into the gym. They must have gone out of town for the week, on vacation or visiting family, something so trivial that he’d laugh if his innards weren’t char and ash. If his alpha weren’t half-feral, blotting out his thoughts for hours at a time, all instinct and anger and teeth taking over until he regains clarity and the sky is dark.

It nearly brings him to his knees when he walks into the gym and the smell of his omega blooms bright and nacreous. The gym staff eye him with growing uncertainty, but he’s hardly the most concerning customer at a big box gym (last week someone locked themselves in one of the bathroom stalls with a knife), so they leave him to his own devices when he’s finally able to move again.

His omega isn’t there, of course. Johnny can tell from a quick glance around the gym and a sniff of the air. But they were, and that’s all that matters. 

Their reappearance sharpens his resolve. Runs it against a whetstone, his time of waiting coming to an end. He rolls his shoulders back and puffs his chest out in anticipation. It can’t come soon enough. 

Nothing stays silent for long when a wolf is watching from the shadows. Eventually it has to make a sound. 

It’s quiet in the gym at two a.m. (a far cry from his usual time, but the hunt demands sacrifice), only the sound of a single treadmill whirring and shoes hitting the belt disturbing the near silence. 

Johnny smells you the second he walks in. It punches him right in the chest when he inhales and the ripe, sticky scent of his omega flows into his lungs. Mouth watering on instinct. Rutilant eyed, he tilts his head wolf-like and stares down towards the other side of the gym where a pretty thing fiddles with the settings on the treadmill, settling into a light jog. 

He’s buried under an avalanche of want so powerful and so swift that it collapses him down to base instinct. Thoughts disconnected and hazy, blooming like a bruise in his head. 

Shouldnae be here, he wants to croon in your ear while he holds you down, almost swaying on his feet at the thought. Should be back in my bed at home takin’ my dick so deep in yer gorgeous cunt that ye can taste my cum on the back of yer tongue—

The employee manning the front desk doesn’t even look up when Johnny scans his pass and pushes through the turnstile, flipping to the next page of the magazine open in front of him.

It’s better that way. Johnny doesn’t know what he’d do if someone tried to stop him or get in his way. 

The gym is deserted at this time of night, only the single treadmill in use and someone that passes him on their way out, a gust of wind at Johnny’s back signalling their departure. Everything always works out in his favour. He suffers for it, but God rewards him for his patience. 

He takes a seat on the closest available training machine and doesn’t even pretend to use it. Johnny’s never been much of a performer anyway. Instead, he drops his gym bag down on the floor beside the chest press machine and leans forward, elbows resting against his knees. 

He’s lucky that you’re too concentrated on your workout to feel the heat of his stare. Your phone rests on its side in front of you, an episode of a show playing to distract you while you run. Earphones in to block out the noise. He knows Ghost would tell him to correct that. Can’t have his omega distracted while alphas lurk nearby waiting to dig their teeth into the supple lump of flesh sitting tantalizing just below the collar of your shirt—

A bead of sweat runs down his temple and his dick twitches in his sweats. 

There are cuffs in his gym bag. Tools of the trade. It’s not as innocent as he lets himself think, but they’re there in case things go sideways. Sideways like if you take one look at him and run the other way when you notice the way his half-lidded eyes barely blink as he stares at you. 

And he can’t have that. Not now that he’s found you. 

His patience is unwavering when the circumstances call for it. It’s a skill he picked up in the service, learning to channel all of the frenetic energy coursing through him into a tight point at the back of his mind, compressing it all down to a singularity that later he’ll allow to expand and burn itself out like a dying star. 

Not now though. Now he sits and he watches and he waits.

He stares at your ass while you run, crossfaded on his alpha’s slabbering hunger and his own need to wrench those leggings down your hips. When he has the luxury of time, he’ll tie you to his bed by your wrists and ankles, belly down to make it easier on him, and sink his teeth into the flesh of your ass until it’s tender to the touch, until even ghosting his hand over your ass makes you squirm and weep. 

Even the thought has a growl rumbling at the back of his throat. 

You’re not a very fast runner, but you’re quick enough. Like a rabbit, Johnny thinks and nearly laughs at his own joke. A distracted one at that, too concerned with what’s in front of you to notice what’s lurking right behind. 

No matter. He sits and he waits. 

Eventually, the treadmill starts to slow down, and with it, you. Panting to catch your breath. Fingers trembling when you pause the video on your phone and scrub a towel down your face to wipe off the sweat. 

And for once the entire gym smells of nothing but a honeyed sweetness. Spun sugar and strawberry Angel Delight. Intoxicating and heady. It permeates the building, dragging him deeper into a drugged haze, dulling his senses, plugging his ears with cotton until the only thing he can hear is the sound of your rabbit-quick heartbeat going bump-bump-bump in your chest.

You must have been finishing your workout with a light jog because when the treadmill comes to a complete stop, you take another second to catch your breath and then step off to the side, draping your towel around the back of your neck and heading for the locker room. 

Johnny feels himself rise to his feet but there’s no consciousness behind it. No intent beyond primordial reflex, prey drive kicking in when you try getting away. He forgets about everything else—the employee at the front desk, his gym bag next to him. His knees don’t even crack for once, the movement fluid, and when he follows you towards the locker room, his feet hardly make a sound. 

It’s to his advantage that you haven’t noticed him yet, but he’ll deal with that soon enough. The locked room door swings shut behind you and there’s a second where he hesitates, better thoughts creeping past his alpha to whisper in his ear that he doesn’t have to do it this way. He’s never had trouble with an omega before—why use force now?

And then he hears a locker slam shut on the other side and instinct takes over. 

You’re half-undressed in the middle of the locker room when he walks in, clad only in your panties and bra, and his world narrows down to that moment. Everything in his life has led him to this. Like a red sea parting; the universe suddenly giving him a sign, beckoning him forth. 

The door swings shut behind him and your ears twitch at the noise. 

He’s done this before in another life. Three strides and he slips right up behind you, arms winding around your front to pull you into his chest and covering your mouth with his hand. You freeze for a split second before going haywire, flailing in his hold, his hand muffling your screams.

“Shh, it’s just me, doe,” Johnny shushes you, arms constricting around you. Relishing the feeling of your body against his, warmer and softer than he imagined. 

You shriek behind his hand, twisting in his hold and trying with all your might to break free. Simple thoughts for simple creatures. Even when you try to bite his hand, Johnny only coos, cock swelling at the feeling of your tongue on his skin. The little kittenish licks just rile him up. He likes it less when you try to headbutt him, narrowly missing his nose when you throw your head back. 

When he dips his nose into the crook of your neck, he can’t help the growl that slips out of him.

“Enough o’ tha’,” Johnny growls, words reverberating with his annoyance. 

The sound makes you still, prey instincts as sharp as his. Smart girl. You know when not to push your luck. He’s bigger and stronger, and his teeth are precariously close to your mating gland, which sits nestled in the crook of your neck. 

He breathes in. Your scent is strongest there, at the base of your neck. A delicate layer of skin and then underneath it, your blood sings. Whispers praises high and sweet to him. A shuddering breath out. 

You mumble something behind his hand. Tremble violently, your nails digging into his forearm with a biting sting. 

He shushes you again. “No’ here, baby—gotta take ye somewhere more private.” 

He pays no mind to the way you resume your screaming behind his hand as drags you deeper into the locker room and away from the door. Hardly needs to use any of his real strength, only a fraction of it. The fight you put up would almost be endearing, would almost make him go thatta girl and nip at the tip of your nose, if not for the way it triggers his instincts, an innate urge to dominate you into submission. 

It isn’t hard to wrestle you to the floor in the showers. Like play fighting, all bark and whine and keen, teeth snapping an inch from his nose until he pins you under him, snarling right in your face until you submit. That gets you to stop making a fuss. The last thing he wants is to deal with a front desk employee trying to play the hero by pulling him off you. Not that anyone could. He’d rather this not end in bloodshed. 

“Tha’s better,” Johnny growls. “Jus’ be nice, a’right?”

You shiver at his words, eyes wide and petrified, darting all over his face. Even tinged with your fear, how could he not preen under your gaze now that you’re getting a proper look at him? He knows what he looks like—rugged and strong, mohawk recently cleaned up and beard freshly trimmed. Not a behemoth like Ghost, but big for an alpha, broad shouldered and beefy. 

Big for an alpha in a couple different ways, he leers.

“Don’t hurt me,” you whimper, and that breaks his heart. How could he ever? How could he ever look at something as perfect as you and want to ruin it? His chest aches at the thought. 

“No, baby,” he whines, nuzzling his nose into the side of your face. “Ah would never, baby, never. Dinnae be scared. Ah’m no’ gonna hurt you, doe.” 

He drags his nose down the length of your head, running his tongue over the rounded corner of your jaw. Your sweat tastes of wet roses and tart jam. Still intoxicating, but wrong, sour and sodden with fear. It makes his skin itch and his shoulders tense. You shouldn’t be scared of him; his omega should never be scared of him. 

“Ye cannae smell it, doe?” he asks, pressing a soft kiss into your neck, lingering there so he can feel your pulse flutter against his lips. “Ah can… Cannae smell a damn thing else when yer around. S’all ah can think about.”

“What are you talking about?” you whisper, so frightened that you can barely squeeze the words out, fear choking you. He can’t stand it. The thought that you might find him dangerous makes his throat burn, agony ripping his chest open and yanking his insides out. 

He braces himself up on his forearms and forces his hand under your head, lifting your head up off the tile floor.

“How do ah smell, doe?” Johnny rasps, shoving your face into his neck and holding you there until you have no choice but to inhale. He feels the way you shudder when you do, hands spasming against his chest. “Smells good, doesn’t it? Just breathe it in, doe.”

You do, shakily. Then a deeper inhale, filling your lungs with his scent. 

“I—oh god—” you groan, your hands suddenly fisting in Johnny’s shirt and dragging him closer. 

“Jesus,” he curses through clenched teeth, dizzy with lust. He goes with it, laying more of his body weight on top of you, hind brain taking over.

A long, deep inhale. Your nose digs into his neck. “What is that?” you whine. 

“S’the best thing in the fuckin’ world.” An understatement. Johnny’s eyelids fall shut when your tongue pokes out to lightly graze his neck. 

So much pent up emotion and anguish and want only for it suddenly—

stop.

Motion succumbing to instinct, to fate. Everything else is collateral damage when fate gets in the way. 

Your hands fisted in his shirt, scent ripening, fear replaced with something else—still sharp, but charged. Hesitant because you shouldn’t want this—it shouldn’t even be a thought in your head to indulge the strange man who wrestled you to the floor and forced you to scent him, but then you get a good whiff of him and that thought shakes like television static, like a mirage, like a glass surface wobbling right before it breaks—

When he pulls back, the world is different. 

You’re glassy eyed, so pliant now that he could do anything to you, anything at all. And then his eyes dip lower. 

He cups your neck with a clammy hand and strokes a finger over the lovely gland at the crook of your neck. It’s warm to the touch. 

“Look a’ this,” he breathes, awed. Your hand flies to his wrist, fingers barely able to wrap around it. 

“D-don’t touch it,” you choke out, swallowing harshly. It has to be sensitive. Still, Johnny can’t keep from stroking his finger over it again, soaking up the way his touch makes you shiver. Poor thing, gone so long without your alpha’s touch. 

“Ah cannae help it, doe,” Johnny whispers. He switches to his thumb, rubbing the pad of it over your gland until you whine and squirm, eyebrows drawn tight together. “Does it hurt, baby? Do ye need me tae make it better?”

You whine, trying to weakly bat his hand away. “N-no, that’s for my alpha—” 

“Aye, tha’s right.” His eyes gleam fulgurite under the fluorescent lights. “Fer yer alpha.”

He digs his thumb in harder until your mouth opens on a silent cry. 

His alpha drools a messy puddle beneath his skin, jowls sagging. It stares without blinking. 

It’s different than lust or bloodthirst. Darker; deep-seated. He’s never felt this way before, and, if his gut feeling proves true, he never will again. It’s like looking down a vast, dark hall, and seeing only one way out. 

A damp shower room floor in a locker room is no place for him to take his omega for the first time, but he couldn’t lift himself off you if he tried. His muscles feel far too heavy, like lead weights dragging him down, the gravity stronger here somehow.

“Let’s get this off,” he murmurs, sitting back on his haunches.

“Wait—wait, not here, alpha, please—”

Your protests fall on deaf ears. He wrenches your bra over your head, mindful not to let the back of your head smack against the tile floor. “Gentle, gentle—there we go. Tha’s a good girl.”

Your panties come next, stripped off and tossed elsewhere. His lips follow the path of his hands, sucking kisses into your hips and thighs until your fingers thread into his hair and yank. He yelps, scalp tingling with pain.

“Do tha’ again, doe,” Johnny purrs, shuddering when you do. Eyes rolling back in his head.

His world tilts on its axis when he forces your legs apart and stares at the perfect slice of heaven between your thighs. 

“Doe.” Voice broken, shredded. Running his thumb up the seam of your lips and moaning when your hole clenches at his touch and a drop of slick leaks out. ��Oh, doe…she’s so…” 

Too awestruck for words. Language is beyond his grasp, too inadequate for the feelings coursing through him. Lacklustre, diaphanous thing. There’s no way to describe the feeling of leaning forward and touching his lips to yours, angling his head to give her a proper kiss, one with tongue and feeling. She kisses him back just as passionately. 

The taste of you is incomparable. He can’t believe he ever thought there was a world where he could subsist on just the smell of you. Impossible now that he’s had you on his tongue. He runs it up the seam of your pussy, the flat of his tongue spread wide to catch every honeyed dewdrop clinging to your skin, sucking each fold into his mouth to be extra thorough. The pearl sitting nice and pretty at the top gets a wet kiss for waiting so long for his touch. 

He pulls back for a second to catch his breath. “So pretty, baby,” Johnny whines, pulling the hood of your clit up with his thumb and sucking her into his mouth.

“Oh my god—” 

He buries his face into your cunt, the bridge of his nose wedged against your clit and making you howl. He doesn’t budge even when you practically wrench his hair out by the roots, too committed to making your pussy squirt all over his face. Not an easy task with the way you keep trying to push him away from your cunt, but Johnny’s always risen to any challenge. 

You howl when he wedges his tongue in as deep as it’ll go, thighs clamping around his head. Not a bad way to go, Johnny thinks in a daze, chin wet with your juices and nose nuzzling your sensitive little clit, making your whole body jolt. He can tell you’re close by the way your thighs spasm and your scent goes marzipan sweet, so lush and rich that his swollen cock leaks in his sweatpants.

It’s easy to get lost in your pleasure; Johnny feels it like it’s his own, his low back aching with the force of your impending orgasm. He misses your clit too much to let her get lonely though, so he lets go of your hip to push a couple fingers into your hole instead of his tongue. 

“C’mon, doe, lemme see ye come,” he whines into your pussy, thrusting all three fingers into your hole, half-lidded eyes with blown out pupils watching the way your pussy gobbles them up. “Just like tha’—oh, there we go, baby, oh my god, come on, yes—lemme have it, doe—”

Your release is wet on his hand and all over his face. Little pussy still milking his fingers, the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. 

A hush falls over the room, the moment almost devotional. He thinks you might be crying, but it’s hard to tell because the blood in his ears is too loud and his hand is wet with your come and he wants nothing more than to do it all over again until you can’t even talk. 

He rises to his feet in a daze, a deep red flush high on his cheekbones. His shirt comes off first, pulled over the back of his head and tossed behind him; his sweats are similarly discarded, tugged down and kicked away until you’re staring up at him in all his hairy, naked glory, cock flush with blood and heavy, drooping away from his stomach.  

He laughs when he notices where your gaze has dropped. “Like what ye see?”

“I don’t know about this—” you start, but he pays your words no mind. 

“C’mere,” he growls, suppressing the urge to wince when he drops to his knees again.

Johnny hooks an arm under your low back, hoisting your hips up until your ass rests against his thighs, making your back arch. It thrusts your tits up towards his face and he nearly goes cross-eyed staring down at your cute little nipples. They look lonely too. 

He gets distracted again, forgetting about sinking his cock in your cunt in favour of hunching over to get his mouth on your tits. Sucks one until it's hard and pebbled against his tongue and circles his tongue over the soft areola skin, completely forgetting about your other breast. It’s hard to pull himself off. 

You yelp when he bites down, not hard enough to hurt, but deliberate enough to tick you off. 

“That’s too rough!” you hiss, grabbing him by the hair again. 

“Sorry,” Johnny gasps. He nuzzles between your breasts, practically purring. “Ah’m so sorry, doe, ah couldnae help myself…”

Puppyish, he leans up to bunt his head under your chin, shuddering when your fingers loosen and hesitantly scratch his head. 

“…Okay…” you murmur, overwhelmed. He ignores you, too content with nuzzling into your neck while you run your nails over his scalp.

Being this close to you after weeks of nothing is almost enough. The air reeks with your scent. If it weren’t for the ugly, festering ache in his belly, he’d be tempted to skip straight to this. Roll onto his back and pull you onto his chest, press his nose to the crown of your head and breathe in until it lulls him right to sleep. Maybe get a good belly scratch at the same time.

Then he inhales and the scent of your come on his chin makes his spine go stiff. Drool leaks from the corner of his mouth.

It can’t wait anymore. The thing under his skin shakes with hunger, its greed a ravenous, frothing appetite that goes mindless when it waits for its food. Do it. Do it now.

He braces a hand against the tile floor to lift himself up and pets your cheek with his free hand. “Ah’m gonna put it in now, okay, doe?” 

And he means it too, stomach cramping with eager anticipation, knot already filling up at the base of his dick—still small enough to pop it into your hole, but not for much longer—because it’s everything he’s dreamt of since he first caught your scent in the air. 

That must not be the case for you. 

When you twist onto your belly and try to scramble away, he stares dumbly for a second before seeing red. Johnny crawls after you, dragging you back by your ankle when you get a bit too far away and flipping you over again. You hiss when the back of your head smashes against the floor, hands reaching up to cradle it instinctively. 

You get it snarled right in your face, his anger erupting out of him like a geyser, like a dense fog rolling down from the mountains and spreading to everything below. “Ye dinnae fuckin’ move.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you breathe. 

Even consumed by rage, he can smell your terror. Putrid, not the soft sweetness of your usual scent. There’s pain there too, and it makes his muscles tense like he’s ready to spring. It’s what brings his alpha to the surface, the scorch of anger cooling slowly as you lie there trembling. 

It doesn’t feel good, but he can’t—he can’t let you go. 

His hands flutter over your face, squeezing your cheeks and leaning down to plant kiss after soft kiss on your lips. “Doe, please, ye cannae do tha’…ah wanna be gentle, but ah cannae control myself if ye—” Johnny can’t bring himself to say it, the image too painful to contemplate. There’s no reason on Earth that his omega should be trying to run away from him.

“O-okay, alpha…I…I’ll be good.” 

His self-control is hairstring thin. “Yer just nervous, right? Tha’ why ye tried tae run?”

“I-I’m just nervous, alpha.” It’s a neat trick, repeating his words back to him in order to calm him down. It works. 

His chest deflates as he kneels there over you. Johnny stares into your eyes a few seconds longer, a subtle reminder not to fucking move, before he sits up again, rolling his shoulders back and tugging your lower half in again. 

This time when he notches the head of his cock against your entrance, you whisper oh god oh god oh god to yourself but you don’t try to run. It must seem inevitable—no way to fight him off or talk him out of it because there’s a film over his eyes that reflects nothing back. 

And then he slowly sinks his cock into you, your hole stretching around the mushroomed head. His jaw rolls on a shaky exhale.

Something in him cracks wide open and—

something ugly slithers out.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, voice cracking. His cock sinks in another inch, warm, wet heat sucking him in. “Jesus, doe, ah cannae fuckin’ breathe—”

You flex your hips at his words, ankles digging into the divots above his arse and pulling him in until he suddenly bottoms out, cock stuffed to the root in the warmest, snuggest cunt he’s ever felt. It nearly makes him go mad; he gets so close to it that his face goes numb, the blood pounding in his ears. He curls over you, a string of curses slipping out of his mouth. 

You’re there when Johnny opens his eyes again, damp hair haloing you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, a tear slipping past your waterline and dribbling down your face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me—”

“It’s okay, doe.” His hands run up and down your sides, soothing you. “S’just instinct. Ye cannae help it any more than ah can.”

Your walls squeeze around his shaft, nerves making you tense up, and Johnny groans, his hand curling into a fist by your head. It takes every iota of his being not to come right then, buried to the hilt in your pussy with your ankles digging into his low back. He nearly does when you whine at him to move. 

“Okay, baby,” he breathes. 

Johnny tries to be gentle at first. Makes a conscious effort to rock into you with slow, smooth strokes, distracting you with a deep, wet kiss. Lips gliding together, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth only to graze it with his teeth, heat rushing through him when you tremble. Coaxing your tongue into his mouth and then sucking on it.

His control starts to slip when he tries to pull out and your ankles dig into his back, pulling him back in. The force of his next thrust makes your body shift, sliding up the wet floor. Too much. Be gentle. But he can’t—the pressure in his core gets worse the longer he fucks you, an eagerness to reach his end building and building. All he can do is chase it. Bite at its heels. 

“Yer so pretty,” he rasps, petting your face with shaky hands and bucking his hips into yours until you can’t hold back your pretty little moans. “Pretty, pretty doe. Ah’ve got ye, love.”

A few more like that, pounding into you until you squeak like a toy and he laughs, breathless and full of mirth. Buoyant. Revelling in the sound of you coming apart under him, all fractured pleas and kiss-swollen lips. 

Perfect angel, all sweetness and moans and cream coating his cock, gleaming under the fluorescent lights every time he pulls out. 

There’s a white ring at the base of his dick from the mess of your combined fluids. Johnny nearly passes out when he notices. 

His bad knee aches from digging into the tile floor. He’ll feel it in the morning when he wakes up with bruises on his elbows and shins, muscles stiff and twinging when he moves, but it’s a price he’ll happily pay to keep his pretty doe on her back with her legs spread. 

Any lingering guilt about fucking you on the gross shower room floor evaporates the more you pant and the wetter you get because, he rationalizes, on some level you must want him just as bad. Not with the same fervour, not a bone bright ache that sucks you dry and spits you out like a peach pit, but close enough that you aren’t pushing him away anymore. 

He ignores the weak pressure on his shoulders. Pries your hands off so he can pin your wrists together over your head. 

“Been lookin’ fer ye fer so long,” Johnny croons. He ruts into you clumsily, losing any semblance of finesse. “Smelt ye weeks ago ‘n knew…knew ah had tae have ye.”

Your eyes fly open, stunned. “Weeks?” you gasp.

“Thought ah’d lose my fuckin’ mind lookin’ fer ye.” His breath comes out ragged. “Couldnae sleep or eat or do anythin’ except jerk my cock raw. Should’ve saved it all up fer ye, but…” his laughter is a deep, brassy thing. “…ye’ll still get a fair share.”

“You’re disgusting,” you moan, and that makes him laugh even more, rutting into you like a beast.

“Christ, doe, keep runnin’ that mouth.”

“You’re a—”

dumb, nasty dog

sick in the head, fucking me with that big, fat dick—

He grunts and his lip pulls back in a mean, crooked grin. 

It’s never been like this before. Like someone drilled a hole in the side of his head and filled it up with you. You’re in every crevice of his mind and body, mycorrhizal tendril spreading through him.

“Ah’m gonna ruin yer pretty cunt, doe,” Johnny rasps, neck soaked with sweat and eyes burning hot, pupils blown so wide only a glimmer of blue remains. “Get her nice ‘n soaked with my come.”

“Alpha—” you keen, for lack of anything else to call him and it makes his vision go blank. 

That’s the only truth that matters to him. Like a divine calling—his omega begging for him, asking for more more more. It’s as close to love as he’s ever gotten; as close to heaven as he ever will. 

Diving headfirst into oblivion. He clamps his hands around your waist to hold you in place and fucks into you with renewed vigour, losing himself in the pleasure. Any coherent thought evaporates, reduced to mindless instinct. His beast and him are indistinguishable; two sides of the same coin; he looms over you Janus-faced, a god of beginnings and endings. 

He breathes out heavily through his nose, teeth gritting together and lips pulled into a flat line. So close to it, knot catching more with every thrust, almost too big to pull out. 

The smack of his hips against yours fill his ears, drowning out your pleading and keening. Seismic motions churning beneath the tile floor keep a steady pulse. The lewd squelch of your pussy nearly drives him mad—slick running down your thighs, pooling onto the floor beneath you, this place irrevocably changed because of your mating— 

If only you’d squirt on his dick too, he could die happy. Scream out alpha, alpha, alpha until you shudder and come.

And you do eventually—milk his dick filthy sweet and cling onto him for dear life, nails scoring red lines into the flesh of his back. His muscles bunching under your touch. 

“Fuck, doe,” Johnny chokes, near tears himself. His perfect girl coming all over his cock, eyes rolling back in your head like it’s never been like this for you before. “Tha’s right, tha’s right—such a good fuckin’ girl—oh, baby—”

You need him. No other alpha can take care of you he would. It’s not enough that he fuck you, not enough that he make you come, not enough that he see you through your next heat, he has to—

Take it all for himself, every last fuckin’ inch of you his.

He bears down on you, scooping his arms under your back until there’s no space between you, chests pressed together. 

His eyes zero in on it. The nodule of flesh at the crook of your neck. And his teeth itch like they’ve never itched before, too large for his mouth. 

“Alpha—” you sob, squirming in his hold. “Alpha—too tight—”

He can’t respond. Mouth full of drool and teeth, fucking you harder than you should be fucked, cockhead trying to kiss your cervix with every thrust. He’d crawl inside of you if he could. His thrusts only slow when his knot finally catches, the pressure making you sob when he tries to pull out and he can’t, stuck inside you. Lazy grinds of his hips now, getting as deep as possible. 

It’s a shock to his system so profound that he can’t stop shaking. His first knot—better than a ring, more binding than a marriage contract. The most basic, ancient covenant. Irrevocable. 

And—it feels—

Indescribable. His thoughts leak from his ears like tar. Eager, fevered. Eyes fixed on your mating gland, dropping his head to get a better view. Better up close, so close that his teeth graze it every time he pants, so sharp that one wrong move and they’ll slice right through, one twitch and it’s game over—

You mewl and arch your chest, inadvertently thrusting your neck up too, so his canine drags across your gland—

mine mine mine mine mine mine

The beast under his skin has a name and it’s—

mine mine mine mine mine mine

(and his teeth just slipped, he’ll say when you ask)

Ah dinnae mean tae, doe, honest—

But ah’ll take care of ye—

You’ll never understand it, but there’s a beast that lives under his skin and it—

—yearns, craves, hungers, howls like its belly is still empty even after all this time, constantly aching no matter how much it’s fed—

Sometimes Johnny wonders if it’s like this for other alphas. Whether they crave their mates with the same intensity, the same burning need smoldering in their veins. He asks Price once and gets an answer that neither confirms nor denies. 

All Johnny knows is that your legs shake when you follow him out of the gym, the employee behind the front desk not meeting his eyes. Better that he not. There’s still blood and come on his chin, his grey sweats stained at the crotch. You’re no better, shirtless under your puffy jacket, hat jammed on a bit too low on your head because he had to be the one to put you back together after taking you apart. 

And though he’s sheepish on the drive home—because what’s his is yours now, and what’s yours is his—your car still back in the parking lot until he can get someone to pick it up in the morning, he wears guilt like sheep’s clothing. It doesn’t fit quite right. 

“We’ll get ye a nice wedding gift tomorrow,” he placates when you huff, thumbing your swollen bottom lip at the next stoplight. It’s tempting to lean in and suck it into his mouth, even now. 

“I’m gonna max out your fucking credit cards,” you mumble, scowling at him. Still, you wrap your lips around his thumb when he slips it into your mouth. 

You cup your hand over your punctured mating gland in lieu of a bandage. 

Johnny cackles. Man plans and God laughs.

In the distance, thunder rumbles and your head turns towards the sound that only you and he can hear.

[sugarwarachan]

the first time you sit on shigaraki tomura’s lap, he freezes. muscles tensing up, hands held rigid at his sides. don’t touch don’t touch don’t touch on a chant in his head.

you crane your neck to look back at him, beaming that loose, easy smile that makes him want to burn the whole world down just to keep you safe.

"just gettin’ comfy, tomu!" before you’re leaning back against his chest, the warmth of your body sinking into his bones.

it becomes routine to have you there, a comforting weight that buzzes through his head and zaps out thought. he dares himself to touch you, to drag his thumb over the soft skin of your hip. he doesn’t realize that he might have an effect on you too until you’re spinning on his lap and hugging his thigh between your legs, breath shaky against his ear.

"tomu—" you whine into the skin of his neck. he can already feel the heat of your pussy through your cute little pajama shorts.

"needy?" he scoffs, mostly to hide the disbelief, the joy—you’re needy for him. you’re fumbling for his cock, his hands, trying to find yourself relief that only he can bring you. his dick pulses against his stomach. "if you need it that badly, you can get yourself off like this, can’t you?"

you press kisses to his throat, and he practically short-circuits.

"yeah, but it’s better if you help me move."

the fact that it’s him you’re craving—shit, he's losing his damn mind.

he’s careful with his grip but that doesn’t mean it isn’t punishing, firm. he locks you in, dragging your slippery folds back and forth, watching the way your eyes flutter when you bump up against that bundle of nerves at the top.

"you like this," he breathes against you, something like a smile on his face. "you really like this?"

cums literally seconds later when he hears you say, “I love this”

[batfsm]

I wrote a fanfic for this but I now need a title…and a summary.

Warnings: I don’t say outright in the story, in my opinion, but i imply a lot of child abuse and sexual assault to children. So be careful please.

I do speak of death and drugs but only in passing.

The story is under the cut. It got away from me. I just wanted to write about Jason and Tim running from Bruce and next thing I know Dick and Alfred are in it, Leslie is mentioned as is Jim, Roy, Lian, Oliver, Damian, and Talia. (Cass and Duke are implied.)

I hope you enjoy @ky-landfill. I’m putting it up tomorrow on my AO3 so I’ll edit in the link then. (Hopefully a name and summary also. Especially a title.)

Edit: Figured both out.

Meetings

Summary: A sound had Jason dropping the tire.

A sound had Jason dropping the tire he just took off and reaching for Tim who came willingly.

Tim climbed onto Jason’s back as the older boy started to run, a move they had practiced for hours until they got it smoothly, and Jason gripped his tire iron harder as he moved faster.

A body suddenly dropping in front of him had Jason sliding to a stop and crunching a bit.

Tim peeked over Jason’s shoulder and felt his eyes widen. Other than that the only other reaction was his tightening grip on his elder brother’s shoulders.

Jason glared as he shifted a bit more to hide Tim and lifted his tire iron. “Leave us alone!”

Batman glared. “Why did you take my tires?”

“None of ya business. We aren’t anymore, so let us go.”

“You’re coming with me.” Batman I growled.

“Fuck off, you big boob!” Jason shouted before rushing Batman.

The man was so surprised that he couldn’t stop the hit to his abdomen. As Batman doubled over, Jason ran past as fast as he could.

[They wouldn’t be found for a week and it wasn’t by Batman. Robin, who came back to visit Agent A and was reluctantly patrolling with Batman, though he was internally glad to be home, ran into Tim by accident.

Tim, when faced with one of his heroes, just stared as he had at Batman before grinning and asking Robin if he wanted to come meet his big brother.

Robin, who was told about the story by a mulish Batman, grinned brightly and agreed.

The young boy led the way to their hideout only to find Jason struggling against a man. Robin didn’t even blink as he took the man down and then fussed over the two boys.

Tim clung to Jason who clung back as Robin looked around and then called Agent A who came to pick the boys up and take them to dinner and then Doctor Thompson’s clinic to be looked over.

As Leslie looked the two civilians over, Agent A snuck out and back to the hideout where the downed man was just coming around.

(Commissioner Gordon ended up with a man beaten up and files full of evidence against the man and others hurting children. Jim Gordon took pleasure in slapping charge after charge on the man and the others, including more police officers who he had thought were not corrupt.)

When Agent A joined the trio, Batman was with him. (Bruce had gotten his own hits in when he saw files on Dick and Roy. Oliver had been alerted and was hunting down the men and women in Star City that were a bit to interested in children, especially his son.) Batman, who had found the files and most of the evidence, dropped to his knees and hugged the three boys. He silently vowed to do better in his relationship with Dick and to keep a close eye on the two younger boys and where they would be placed.

Batman redid the vow months later to include all his children when he finally admitted to Alfred and himself that Jason and Tim were best left with the family.

Jason and Tim, like Dick, was the best thing that happened to him.

All his children, present and future were.]

[Roy and Oliver’s arguments in the future would never get as bad as they should have been because Oliver followed Bruce’s example and opened up to his son. Roy would be able to fall back on his dad when he started to get addicted and would have the support he desperately needed from the start. Lian would grow and never die since she was with her dad and grandpa all the time and not just Roy.

The whole family would be happier.]

[Jason, by way, never became estranged from the family. He does die but Talia puts him straight into the Pit and then takes him home with Damian.]

Fuck off, you big boob!

[javierpena-inatacvest]

His

Summary: Javi can't get enough of you (aka idk how to summarize this other than it's pwp whoops)

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

Warnings: ... again, this is straight up pwp, unprotected p in v sex, rough(er) sex, breeding kink (I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!! It's physically impossible to not!!), praise kink, big, nasty creampie, cum play, 1 use of daddy and papí (but like, that's the goal), an ass smack, prone bone and the one position from s2e3 of Narcos because I say so!!! also sweet, tooth rotting fluff because I don't know how to write any other way

A/N: She's nothing, if not consistent, your honor 🤠 You'll have to pry Javier Peña and his big, fat breeding kink out of my cold, dead hands before I stop writing about it!!!!!! Figured what better way to break a hiatus than letting the ovulation demons do the lords work for me to post some smut on tumblr dot com, hope y'all enjoy!!!

Never Too Late Masterlist

“Fuck, Javi!” 

The only thing that’s keeping you from waking up your neighbors with the volume of your moans is the way Javi has you pressed against the mattress, muffling the sound of you screaming his name as he pounds into you, over and over. 

You swear he could smell it on you from the second he walked through the door, how you had been craving him all day. Just the thought of him alone was enough to make you ache with unbearable need and want. From the moment he left for work this morning, you were counting down the hours until he got home so you could climb him like a goddamn tree. 

But then again, how can anyone blame you when he’s the one who instigated it in the first place? 

“I swear to god, when I get home, I’m not letting you out of the fucking bed tonight ‘till I knock you up.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise, Javi?” 

“Both.” 

Javi’s always been a man of his word, but with the way he’s fucking you right now, it makes you wonder if he’s ever planning on letting you out of the bed again. 

“That’s it baby girl, let me hear it.” 

You can feel the way the words rumble in his chest, pressed against your back as he fucks into you, deeper and harder with each thrust. The grip around your intertwined fingers tighten, practically melting you into the bed with the weight of his broad body is pinning you down, caging you beneath him. 

Heat is radiating off him, the tacky sheen of sweat pooling where your skin meets, Javi’s hips flushed against the meat of your ass. He’s already got you three orgasms deep, but there’s just something addictive about Javi that always has you begging for more, desperate to cum around his cock over and over again until you have nothing left to give. 

“Oh my god- fuck. Fuck, Javi, I want more baby, please. Fuck me harder- oh fuck-” 

You swear you can feel his smirk creeping into the corners of his cheeks as he kisses your shoulder, relishing in the mess he’s already made you, and yet, you still can’t seem to get enough of him. 

“You want more, hermosa? Let me hear you, baby.” Javi coos, purposely slowing his pace down just enough to make you whimper, quietly laughing to himself at the way he can feel you back your ass up against his hips, trying to keep yourself as full of him as you can. 

“I want it, I want more, baby, please.” You whine, craning your neck behind you just enough to see the devilish grin Javi has plastered across his face. 

“You gonna be a good girl and take everything I have to give you? Let me fill you up until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ stick?” He groans, the thought of fucking himself so deep inside you that nine months from now, he’ll be the reason for your growing family, igniting something indescribably primal in him. 

“Yes! Yes, please, fuck- I’ll take all of it!” 

It’s borderline pathetic how many octaves your voice has climbed as you beg him for more, a pitch and volume so loud and high you nearly startle yourself with your response. You can hear Javi sigh and curse under his breath. You’re not sure if it’s because having you like this drives him crazy, or if having you like this drives him so crazy, he’s worried he’ll bust right then and there if he doesn’t control himself. 

Your response has him shifting behind you, sitting back on his knees and gripping his fingers into the meat of your sides to force your bottom half up, one hand letting go to smack your ass just hard enough for your breath to hitch in the back of your throat. 

You’re not sure how, but the new position has him feeling even fuller, stretching you out to the point of pleasure filled sobs as he starts to pound against your g-spot, each thrust rougher than the last. 

You’re so wet that the sound of him sliding in and out of your cunt is almost as loud as the noise of his skin slapping against yours. That, combined with the lewd panting and moaning heaving from each of your chests, has the room sounding like you could easily give any porno ever produced a run for its money. 

“Love this pussy so fucking much. Always so fucking wet and tight for me. Whose pussy is this, baby?” Javi asks, his once smug demeanor quickly dissipating as he chokes out his question through gritted teeth, so drunk on you he can barely think straight. 

“Yours! Fuck, fuck fuck- It’s yours, Javi.” You sob, fisting at your bedsheets so tightly, you’re convinced it won’t be long until your knuckles turn white. 

“Fucking right, it is. Fuck you so full of me that I knock you up, make sure- mierda- make sure everyone knows you’re all mine. That what you want, Mami?” 

“Yes, y-yes! Oh fuck- yes! ” 

Javi gets one more smack at your ass before he reaches around to scoop you up from your front, draping his arm across your chest to flush it with his back, never letting the pace of his hips falter. If he wasn’t holding you up, you’re positive you’d be limp, so all consumed by pleasure that it’s engulfed every inch of your body. to keep yourself upright. 

His free arm snakes around to find your clit, whimpering as the pads of his fingers rub tight circles around the bundle of nerves. The undeniable tingle at the base of your spine is beginning to build again, the all too familiar clamping of your cunt around Javi’s cock growing tighter by the second. 

You can all but feel him in your stomach, every inch of him sunk as deep as you can take him, backing your ass into him to counter every snap of his hips. You shoot your hand behind you, digging your nails into whatever part of his thigh you can find to brace yourself on as he fucks into relentlessly, only egged on by the fact he knows how close you are. 

“You got one more for me, baby?” Javi mewls, nipping at your neck while the hot words of his breath dance across your skin. “One more time before I cum so fucking deep inside you?” 

You’re not sure how you even have the capacity to form words, nodding your head in compliance as you try your best to string together something comprehensible as the coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter. 

“Y-yes, oh fuck- want you to fill me up. Put a baby in me, please, papí.“ 

“Fuck me.” Javi huffs under his breath, furrowing his brow in an intense focus to keep from fulfilling your request preemptively. “Cum for me, Hermosa. Cum all over my cock, and I promise I will.” 

It only takes a few more frantic strokes before you’re collapsing around him, orgasm shooting through your body with such radiating pleasure, you’re not even sure you’re on this earth anymore. The way he’s pinning your nearly limp body to his, pounding into you relentlessly to chase his own high is almost too much, but you’ll take it. You’ll take everything he has to give because it means that you’re his. 

“That’s my girl.” Javi coos, sliding the hand that had been rubbing at your clit up your chest, stopping to wrap around your jaw, just firm enough to dip your head back to rest against his shoulder. “My good fucking girl.” 

His head is buried in the crook of your neck, pants and moans muffled against your skin, growing louder with each snap of his hips, each one more reckless and sloppy than the last. You can barely make out the words he’s mumbling into your ear, his brain just as jumbled as yours as he nears his finish line. 

“I have so much fucking cum for you. Gonna fuck it so deep in you, it’ll- oh fuck- it’ll fucking take. Fill up this pussy with every last- shit- every last fucking drop. Fuck!” 

It’s a low groan that rumbles in his chest first, followed by a strangled whimper that dies somewhere in the back of his throat as his hips stutter, hot ropes of his spend spilling inside of you while he cums. You know he doesn’t dare let a drop go to waste, that he’ll keep his cock stuffed inside your cunt until you’ve milked him of every ounce he has to give. 

And fuck, he wasn’t lying when he said plenty to give. 

You can’t even tell where your body ends and his begins, melded together as one, his length nestled so deep inside you, you can feel all of him pulsing while his seed overflows, leaking out pussy and dripping down your thighs. You know there’s nothing more Javi wants than to keep every last drop inside your cunt, but the best he can do with how much he has to give is to keep fucking it into you, forcing hips to thrust deeper in sync with the heavy heaves of his chest until you’re all but sobbing. 

“It’s- fuck- it’s so much, Javi, fuck-” You whimper, jaw slack at the slick, sticky mess pooling around the base of his cock. 

“Jesus, fuck- I know, baby. I know, but you’re taking me so fucking well.” He coos, softly kissing your neck and shoulder before shifting your body to lay you down, somehow remembering to grab a pillow from his side of the bed to prop under your hips before your back hits the mattress. 

You hiss at the loss of Javi inside you, the sharp breath quickly replaced by a gasp as you the next plop of cum dripping out of your hole caught by Javi’s fingers, sliding up your soaked folds to gently press back into your cunt. He uses the last bit of strength he has to part your legs just enough to make room for his head, leaning down just enough to pepper soft kisses to your clit, trailing up your stomach and chest until he collapses next to you. 

The both of you lay there for a moment in silence, nothing left to fill the room but the post-orgasmic haze you’ve left behind, catching your breath as you try to let your brain sync back up to your body. 

“Javi… Javi, holy fuck.” You huff, the corners of your cheeks turning upwards in a cheeky grin as you roll your head to face him, giggling at the wide eyed, fucked out expression his face still can’t seem to shake. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi sighs, shaking his head in disbelief before running his hand through the sweat-dampened curls of his hair, prying them from the damp mat they’ve made on his forehead.  

“You came so hard, Jav.” You softly giggle, scooting close enough to lay your cheek against his chest, smiling as he drapes his arm across your back to pull you in closer. 

“Yeah, I know. Fuck, I haven’t cum that hard in a long time.” Javi smirks, fingers drawing gentle patterns on the warm skin of your back. 

“Trying to knock me up really turns you on that much, huh?” You tease, the two of you laughing like you didn’t already know the answer, or that he couldn’t say the same for you. “It’s hot.” 

“Yeah?” Javi asks, biting down on the plush of his lower lip as he raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Mhmmm. You’re already about to be the hottest DILF known to man, makes it that much hotter how badly you want to be a daddy.” 

Even though Javi rolls his eyes at you, trying his best to hide the boyish grin stretched between his cheeks. You snicker at the pink flush of his face, leaning over to leave a lingering kiss on his lips, both your smiles meeting each other’s mouths. 

“Fuck me.” Javi sighs, quietly laughing to himself, carefully brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. 

“Again? Already? Hate to break it to ya, but I think it’s safe to say you’ve got nothing left in the tank there, Jav.” 

This eye roll makes him grin even harder, supring on your giggles with the ticklish kisses he pecks across your body as payback for your awful joke. 

“You’re such a fucking dork. God, I love you.” 

“Love you more, idiot.”

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[scented-morker]

Leaked documents

Enha’s reaction when the HYBE leaked documents talk about kicking fem!8th member out… hurt/comfort, 1k words, mentions of iland (that deserves a tw) and haters… requested by 🩵 anon

Heeseung

His heart absolutely breaks 💔

Even in Iland he'd spent countless hours encouraging you, telling you just how talented you were and how much you deserved to debut

When you'd first debuted and gotten hate for being 'out of place' in the boy group, he was in protection mode at every single schedule

Always distracting you from antis and keeping you close on stage

He reminds you just how talented you are, and probably calls Bang Sihyuk himself

"If you ever remove Yn from this group you will need to find a replacement for me as well."

He does NOT play

If you're out, so is he

You're not allowed to go anywhere by yourself for the next few weeks

"Hee I'm just going to the convenience store."

"Yeah? And I'm coming too."

If you get recognized or heckled boy will he have something to say

He's scary

Jay

He's the only one that can get you out of your room

You locked yourself away as soon as you saw the article, but he sits outside your closed door talking into the wood for twenty minutes

When you finally open it up, he's caging you in his arms

"Remember what we promised as trainees?" He asks once the two of you are laid down in your bed

You mumble and he rolls his eyes.

"What was that?"

"You said you'd always take care of me."

"Exactly. And you said you'd let me."

You bury yourself further into his chest, and he strokes a hand through your hair

"We'd never let that happen."

He sticks to his word, taking care of you extra attentively for the next few weeks

He lets you cry and rant about it as many times as you need, insisting that you aren't annoying and you're allowed to be as upset as you want

Jake

Another hugger

Swears up and down he'd kick down every door in the building if they ever tried to take you from him

"Jakey, you couldn't even break a board during our karate episode."

"Because the board wasn't trying to take my baby from me! My love for you would make me strong!"

Okay Hulk 🙄

He makes a post on Weverse that night that includes an old picture of you two together with the caption 'What would I do without you?'

He's perfectly content to stay stowed away in your room doing nothing for the next few days

And when you do have a meeting at the building, he's stuck to your side the whole time

Gives nasty looks to the CEO himself

He acts like they're going to literally rip you away from him, he's holding on to you for dear life every time you have practice

Sunghoon

He's actually shocked because you keep complaining that they made comments about how he looked

No way you're more upset about them calling him ugly than you are about them discussing possibly removing you from the group

"You need to fix your priorities, love."

"My priorities are fine, thank you very much! Sales probably would be better if I was gone, I know that's true. But calling the prettiest boy ever ugly? That's a crime."

He shuts that down REAL FAST

"Sales would not be better, because we'd be miserable without you. Our careers would suffer the minute you left this building. Don't act like you don't matter in this."

You can't even respond

This might be the most fired up he's ever been, and he's staring straight into your soul eyes and you can't help but tear up

"C'mere," he pulls you tighter against him

"It's okay to be upset. They're crazy for thinking we'd survive without you. I wouldn't make it an hour."

Sunoo

He lets you process however you need, but he refuses to listen to you say lies about his favorite person

"I don't want to drag the group down."

He stares at you like you're crazy

"Drag us down?? Sweetheart, you embarrassed us every single week on Iland."

You roll your eyes, but he's insistent

"I know you probably trauma blocked most of it out, but I remember how hard they were on you for being a girl, and yet every week you made them eat their words. You couldn't drag us down if you tried."

He runs his fingers through your hair and starts a loose braid in it, adoring the way you melt into him as he does so

There's a scream from somewhere in the dorm, followed shortly after by a crashing sound that you pay zero attention to

"Besides, I'd probably have killed one of these idiots without you."

This gets a laugh out of you, a real one, and he smiles proudly

"We're always gonna need you."

Jungwon

He's by your side the SECOND the news comes out

He doesn't make a single comment about the ugly crying you're currently doing

He just kneels on the carpet next to your bed and holds your hands with so much softness

He dips his head until you can see him, wanting to have eye contact so you can see his sincerity

"We wouldn't be enhypen without you. You’re part of us.”

He uses his thumb to wipe the tears off of your cheeks and lets you tug him closer

"Besides, what kind of leader would I be if I let them take our girl? The boys can barely survive without you when you go to shower.”

He counts it as an accomplishment when you let out an airy laugh, and he places a kiss on your forehead

“I’m not gonna let you go, that’s a promise.”

Riki

When I tell you they had to hold this boy down

Oh he’s ANGRY

Literally glaring holes into his phone when he reads it the first time

Jay wrestles him down before he can go knocking on their CEO’s door

He makes better use of his time by trapping you with his entire body the moment he sees you

“You are never allowed out of my sight. I will keep you here forever.”

You sigh, that’s the dream

“No one else gets my girl if they aren’t gonna appreciate her like they should.”

There’s no humor in his voice, and it makes your heart stutter

“You deserve to be loved so much better.”

Praises you in every single show or content you film afterward

Will straight up tell people to shut up if they say anything negative about you, media training is for the weak

[muletia]

Idkkk

But reader getting mad at Optimus, bc he accidentally stepped on their garden, but he's horny and just humping the floor, while whimpering for forgiveness

I’ve been thinking about this ask every day ever since I received it… feels good to finally write about pathetic Optimus <3

Today is an absolutely beautiful day. Warm, sunny. No wind to disturb the peace.

It’s the perfect chance to enjoy the outdoors, and you’re making the most of it by setting up a lounge chair outside your house and diving into your favorite book. No nonsense involving alien war. Just you, your garden, and your books. Life couldn’t be better.

That’s why you’re surprised to hear the sound of tires rolling along the gravel road leading to your home. You weren’t expecting any visitors today. For clarity, you lift your eyes from the text and you’re greeted by a familiar truck pulling into your driveway.

The truck immediately transforms, and giant pedes start heading in your direction.

Crushing the freshly planted pink hydrangeas you were particularly proud of. Oh no, absolutely not.

“Optimus Prime!” you shout, leaping up from your lounge chair. The raised tone of your voice is enough to make your visitor flinch, dreading your anger, but he bravely crouches down to make it easier to look you in the eye. One servo rests on the ground as he leans closer, blocking any path for you to escape.

“What has gotten into you?!” you continue, furious, pacing back and forth. “You can’t just trample someone’s garden like that, got it? I’ve explained to you before that you need to be very careful when visiting me to avoid exactly this kind of situation. Do you know how long I spent looking for that particular species of hydrangea?”

You pause your rant, finding a moment to really look at him. He doesn’t… look normal. His servo digs into the ground like he’s trying to anchor himself in place, optics are focused solely on you, and within them, sparks of something dangerous, unstoppable, seem to dance.

“I beg your p-pardon,” he finally says, his voice trembling, dripping with desire. “But I desired to see you. Desperately.”

“O-oh,” you gulp. Then you glance at the trampled, lifeless hydrangeas, and your anger resurfaces. “But you could’ve been more careful, you know? I know you can be.”

“A-ah, please accept my sincerest apologies, [Name]. Forgive me, please” he whines.

“I’ll have to think about whether I’ll forgive you. You don’t trample my garden like that, okay.”

“Y-yes, I understand. Please forgive me,” he moans, making you take a step back. “Do not leave. I am begging you.”

“What’s going on with you, honey?”

He doesn’t need to answer that question. The simple pet name is enough to draw a submissive whimper from Optimus’ intake, and his thighs begin moving, humping the air. Unimaginably desperate for you. Impatient, yet still keeping his distance, though all he can think about is freeing his suffering spike and sliding it into your soft, welcoming valve. Quenching the fire of desire that’s practically consuming him.

“Please, ah!" he cries out, his form trembling with restrained need "Forgive me, my dearest, I swear on my spark I shall be more mindful in the future,” he whimpers. “I am begging you, help me. Only you can.”

Still humping at nothing, completely unconcerned about the humiliation or how pathetic the scene looks, he feels droplets of pink transfluid seeping through the seams of his interface panel, dripping onto the grass. He shouldn’t be ruining your garden even more, but he can’t stop. He needs you. Urgently. Now.

You sigh. “Oh, you’re going to pay me back for those hydrangeas. I’m going to milk you so dry you’ll forget your own name.” You nod toward the garage, specially modified for his visits. “Come on in, love.”

[klysanderelias]

Also like, a lot of those contradictions about whose reproduction is valuable is incredibly mutable and often in complete agreement at the end goal - the white supremacist ideal of an ethnostate doesn't necessarily mean that all other types of people are wiped out, but that they're controlled and funneled. In the example of stripping welfare policies to harm black families, it's not in an effort to reduce the black population, it's in an effort to reduce them to a lower class and deny them any options other than to be exploited.

Basically speaking, there's always a lot of rhetoric about deportations and closing borders, but the US runs - maybe even thrives - on foreign immigrants being put to work in the worst possible conditions. Draconic immigration laws and deportations serve as means of control first and foremost - you can't unionize or report your employer to OSHA or other protective agencies if doing so would expose you and your friends and family to retributive harm. Meat packing, farming, etc, are all jobs that purposefully employ and exploit immigrants specifically because they're dangerous and cutting corners often leads to catastrophic results, and you need SOME kind of outgroup that is unable to find better work in order to keep produce and meat cheap for the ingroup.

And when it comes to valuing having children, the contradictions are clear as day (and easily resolved) by looking at things like the Quiverfull movement vs nonwhite families with a similar number of children - hell, even white families that are lower class, labeled hillbillies, white trash, etc. The idea is both that the preferred type of person should 'spread their genes' but also that preferred type of person is always rich and always, crucially, a minority of the population. Whiteness in specific has always been subject to redesign, for example Italians and Irish immigrants.

And at the end of the day, the end goal is to create a small group of Good people who are served and in return exploit all the other Bad people, who have to be numerous enough to be thrown into the meat grinder of capitalism but not numerous enough (or they have to be divided enough) to be a threat. There are certain groups (like LGBTQ, communist, etc demographics) that present an existential threat to the ideological framework, and so must be eradicated, but also they still serve a use as boogeymen and acceptable targets to direct and manipulate people.

But again I think a lot of the rhetoric around reproduction, and who should and should not reproduce, is just masking the bigger idea that a lot of people don't necessarily recognize, and that other people won't admit to. There's a reason why the Trump administration is both talking about an immigrant crisis and the need to close borders while at the same time pushing the increase of things like h1b visas - because they're both methods of control. Criminalizing immigration isn't meant to stop immigration, it's meant to provide a steady stream of disposable labor. H1B visas are difficult to get, hard to turn into long-term citizenship, and reliant on your employer, so they're great tools to get skilled indentured laborers that can't speak up about any discrimination or harmful work practices, because otherwise they'll get fired and then deported.

Which is to say, "that economic consideration is what creates both the natalist policy meant to encourage [some people's] reproduction, and the exterminatory policy meant to suppress and eradicate [other people's] reproduction" except also that those policies and social ideas are constantly in motion to constantly redefine who fits what category, because on some level even fascist ethnostates require a sizable population of everyone other than their preferred demographic - they just need to be socially, legally, etc disenfranchised so as to remain lower class and subservient. A homophobic Karen at the grocery store is perfectly happy to have a lesbian employee serve her, as long as she's allowed to express her power over that employee with no consequences.

I love your takes, but I feel super, super lost with what you were trying to say about the natalism one. I feel like you're saying that there is no contradiction on wanting more babies, a higher population number and punishing mothers, but can you elaborate on that a bit more, because it does seems contradictory. I'm not disagreeing with you, I just want to understand it better.

alright there's a perennial debate (on here but also in a wider cultural sense) that goes on where people start noticing that some of the ways in which we socially and economically de/value children, parenthood, and specifically motherhood are internally contradictory. how can it be that there is immense social and economic pressure to heterosexually partner and reproduce, and yet most public and social infrastructure is also profoundly hostile to children and their guardians? why is it that this person couldn't find a doctor to perform a voluntary hysterectomy because their bodily preferences were subordinated to the medical valorisation of their fertility, and yet this other person was forcibly sterilised or coerced into using contraception because the prospect of them reproducing is framed as socially destabilising and degenerative? how are 'family values' touted by politicians who openly and explicitly also hate real existing families? do they want people to have more children or fewer? is it more counterculture and rebellious to have children or to not have children? to have sex or to not have sex? to partner off? to be polyam or monogamous?

the answer broadly speaking is that the oppositions people see here are only surface-level. the bourgeois state's interest is in biopower, and this produces competing demands: for some people to partner off and reproduce, and for others to be exterminated. the valorisation of the white middle-class nuclear family is the same as the devalorisation of its negations: racialised people, disabled people, family arrangements other than nuclear and heterosexual, etc. you can't understand the demand that people reproduce if you don't understand it is necessarily also accompanied by the demand that other people don't. these aren't actually contradictory once you understand that what the bourgeois state wants has nothing to do with your individual behaviours and everything to do with how many 'desirable' bodies it has at its disposal. that economic consideration is what creates both the natalist policy meant to encourage [some people's] reproduction, and the exterminatory policy meant to suppress and eradicate [other people's] reproduction.

usually this kind of conversation very quickly devolves into a privilege framework argument, where people are trying to find some kind of social hierarchy that is hegemonically applied top-down and that rewards, universally, certain behaviour choices over others. again, the "people who marry and reproduce are privileged and socially rewarded over me #childfree" versus "actually some people still have to fight tooth and nail to even get medical support / approval to have children, let alone actually get access to the kind of economic and social support necessary to raise them" debate. it's smoke and mirrors because there is no universal privileging of the choice to have children or not have children. what there is, is a privileging of certain people on the basis of the economic assessment of them as biological assets, and the inverse (and mutually constitutive) devaluations of everyone else. really over-discussed examples here but to give them anyway: this is why, for example, french natalist policy and the USA's constant efforts to strip back welfare-net policies in order to harm (primarily) black families are both arising from the same basic impulses of two imperialist nation-states. obviously there are different histories and contextual factors that have resulted in france and the US trying to skin the same cat in different ways. but what they share is an underlying interest in trying to shore up their population in both size and 'fitness', understood here in its full racialised and eugenic meaning.

[writingroom21]

Stepbro Rafe talking you through it

A/N: Finally feeling better and was so excited when I saw this! Got me in the writing mood so fast

“Rafe.” A moan slips past your lips. His eyes flick up to look at you. The sun casting a glow behind you causes him to squint his eyes from the intensity. He hums around your clit as he keeps sucking it. 

Today was a hot day in Outer Banks and Rafe thought it was a good idea to take out the boat. The idea was posed as a bonding activity for the two of you since your mom and his dad keep hounding you. They think that since the two of you are step-siblings that you need to get along. Well this probably isn’t how they imagined it but it was one hell of a way to do it.

The moment the boat was far enough that no one could see, he was on you. “They want us to get along. I think I got the perfect thing for us to do.” Your shorts were tossed aside and your bikini bottoms were pushed to the side. Even though you were reluctant, your thighs spread open for him. His tongue teased your folds before he dived in like a man starved. “Fuck baby, taste like heaven.” You let out a moan at his words, moving your hips. The friction from his tongue as you glide your hips to match his pace.

“If I had a last meal it would be this pretty pussy. Look at how she drools for me.” Rafe takes a moment to stare at your folds, catching the way you clench around nothing. His right hand moves up the inside of your thigh. Placing his thumb on your clit, he moves in soft circles. The barely there touch short circuits your brain. All of the worries of someone catching you dying down in the back of your brain. “Rafe, I.”

When your words are cut off with a moan Rafe laughs. He audibly laughs in your face as you can’t help but to moan. “It’s okay princess. Feels good right?” You can hear the ruffling of his pants as he pulls them down. Using his left hand he lazily jerks himself off as he fingers you. “Mmmm.” Light kisses are placed on your lower abdomen trailing all the way down to your clit again. The combination of his fingers and lips could be lethal.

“I can feel you squeezing the shit out of me.” He hissed as he pulled his fingers out again. Kneeling between your legs he replaces his fingers with his cock. Your walls flutter around him violently as he pushes his way in. Resting his forehead on your shoulder he takes a deep breath in trying not to cum. His thumb strokes your clit, building up the orgasim that keeps refusing to happen. “Just relax princess, let me take care of you.”

Slowly he thrusts into you. It’s a steady slow pace so you can feel every inch of him. The boat rocks with each movement. The sound of water splashing along the sides fills your ears as a tingle forms in your lower abdomen. “That’s it.” Rafe murmurs along your skin. His teeth sink into your skin as he holds back his moans. He wants to hear you, feel you, know that he’s the one who broke you. “Feel so fucking good. Your pussy keeps pulling me back in.” A loud moan comes from you.

A smile spreads across his face and he moves into your view so you can see. Holding your cheeks, he forces you to look at him. “Eyes on me princess. You like it when I use you right?” He uses his grip to nod your head as you moan. “I know you do. Like knowing that your stepbrother is the only one who could fuck you properly.” You clench hard around but still you teeter on the edge of an orgasim.

“I wonder what your mom would say seeing how much of a whore you are. Practically begging me to knock you up.” Your whole body goes numb as your orgasim racks through you. Moans keep falling from your lips as the pleasure feels never ending. “There you go. Did such a good job for me.” You wrap your arms around him as he keeps thrusting into you. Each thrust prolongs your orgasim until you are jelly in his arms.

“That’s it, relax. I got you.” His hand pushes some hair away from your face and he places a kiss on your forehead. “Fuck you feel so good. I’m about to cum.” A few more thrust and he’s pulling out. Ropes of his cum covers your skin and he massages it in. “Don’t worry next time, I’ll fill you up.” A finger soaked in cum makes its way back inside you. A small part of him is satisfied that he got you to break and now there’s a piece of him left behind.

Taglist : @rafedaddy01 @rrafeswhore @10ava01 @selfcontollover07 @akobx @starkeysbebe

[e-mm4]

Hii! I love your Thanos x reader x namgyu stories!! They’re so good and I love your writing! I was wondering if I could request more of that? Maybe a little smut if you’re comfortable writing it!

(Sorry if that doesn’t make sense, English isn’t my first language ❤️)

thanos ! x reader x namgyu !

pairing : thanos! x reader x namgyu!

cw : drug use and sexual activities!

a/n : erm i am NOT a good smut writer but i hope the small amount is enough. i love these two. also i don’t know if anyone has noticed but i cannot make them mean for the life of me. like i love a soft man. oops

you’d all live in a single apartment because it’s cheaper. you were practically all living together anyways (they crashed in your living room more than their own places) so you would decide making one rent payment split three ways made more sense than three separate payments.

the chores would probably fall on you. cooking, cleaning, laundry. it’s easier if they’re out of your way anyways.

i think namgyu would help out by buying groceries or taking over the laundry every couple of weeks.

i like to picture him with glasses, and leaving them everywhere but his face. like he’s constantly misplacing them. and he swears you must be psychic or something because anytime he starts squinting to see, you pull his glasses out of thin air.

he also definitely is incapable of admitting he needs them. and will actively refuse to find them because he “looks stupid with them on”.

thanos is the type of guy that wouldn’t do anything around the house except leave his cigarettes ashes on the living room table.

or throw his shoes on top of the already large pile of sneakers by the door instead of tidying them up.

or add his dirty dishes into an already full sink.

and then he’d say he contributes to house work because he bought take out once last week or because he brought home shit for you guys to smoke.

but he’s also the type that can clean the whole house in a couple of hours, under the condition that’s he’s high. like i imagine him popping one of those pills from his cross and getting the energy to do everything you’d plan to do when you get home.

and if you said anything about it he’d just shrug. like it’s not the most impressive thing he’s done since he moved in.

secretly he’d be on top of the world because of your praise and gratitude. and he can’t help but smile at the satisfied smile that appears on your tired face when you sit beside him on the couch with no responsibility for the night.

they both are the type to conspire around the thermostat. and they’ve somehow convinced you that you don’t know how to use it so you trust them when they say it’s set at a normal temperature.

like in the winter time, they’ll turn it down so low that they have to bundle up under multiple blankets on the couch just so you’ll keep them close.

picture this, you’ve gone to bed and they turn it down at least half an hour after. and you return to the living room, half dressed cause “that’s the only way you can sleep”, and you beg them to come sit in your bed to keep you warm.

and thanos would be the type of guy to get you there and claim that they have a faster way than just ‘sitting in bed’ to keep you warm.

that’s how you’d end up with thanos chest pressed to your back and his cold hands up your shirt, cupping your breast as he nips and kisses at your neck leaving purple marks in his path that are sure to show the next day.

meanwhile namgyu is laying on his stomach with your legs perched up on his shoulders, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh, as he head gets busy between your legs.

and you better believe your inner thighs are covered in bruises. he’s incapable of holding back his bites and kisses with your legs spread wide in front of him.

i cannot see namgyu being anything BUT handsy. like even if you guys were just cuddling this guys hands are on you, in you, all over you it’s crazy.

and you’d say it’s counterintuitive when thanos throws your shirt across the room, and namgyu has pocketed the underwear you were wearing, because how is removing your clothes keeping you warm.

but after at least of an hour of being trapped between them, all three of you are sweating and the room seems way hotter than before.

maybe the fact that they turned the thermostat back to normal before joining you in your bedroom had something to do with it. who knows?

the type of guys to talk to eachother about you like your not there but also the type to say it’s gay to make eye contact with eachother when they get you off.

they’re also jealous creatures. they can’t help it.

if the three of you are having sex and you leave a mark on one of them, like a hickey or god forbid you leave lines from your nails, the other is suddenly whining for your attention. silently begging for you to mark them up in the same way.

and they won’t leave your bed after. they stay put, hands wrapping around you from either side of the bed. namgyu’s fingers are intertwined with yours as his face presses against your neck. and thanos is sprawled out on his stomach, one arm draped over your middle as he faces you, dead asleep.

[rosiehrs]

TWO STEPS BEHIND ✧ 09. they might sell

⤻ in which sophia laforteza, praised for her all-round skills and leadership, is tasked with guiding the new trainee to catch up with the others. but as y/n l/n struggles to keep up, sophia can't help but see the girl as a burden holding her back from her own success – and with each misstep, her resentment grows.

wc: 728

you watched nikky critique megan's lack of detail with a terrified look on your face. although the girl was younger and.. weird, you looked up to her and her work. she excelled at everything and she raised the standards for every girl in the room.

you hadn't even noticed the small misstep she had, yet nikky was tearing her to shreds about it. everyone expected more from her, and well, you didn't know a thing.

while nikky focused on helping those in higher levels, you and the other girls practiced on your own in the other side of the room. you stayed in the back, silently struggling with the position of your arms and the sway of your hips. you made glances to your fellow trainees and immediately felt a rush of embarrassment flowing through your veins. you couldn't shake off the fact that these girls were light years ahead of you. they moved with such ease, while you still stumbled over your own feet.

sophia listened as nikky pointed out a flaw in emily's moves, the sound fading as soon as her eyes landed on your through the mirror. she saw the way you sheepishly tried to dance with the other girls as you watched from the back. she turned to nikky and saw how she was preoccupied and silently made her way over to you.

"you alright?" she asked, smiling softly as you stopped your moves and stood up straight. "i- uh, yeah. just.. trying to get this, but i look weird."

"show me."

with that, you felt your entire body stiffen. this always happens; this is the reason why you're never able to perform well during your practices. she made you so nervous to the point where you felt like your bones were glued together.

"y/n?" she called out again, snapping you out of your thoughts. "hm? oh, right. sorry."

you sang the part of the song and showed her what you were struggling with.

this is the part when i say i don't want you,

i'm stronger than i've been before

sophia nodded, understanding the issue. "ah, you need to hold your arms up higher, like this." she demonstrated, lifting your arms out in front of you. "and lock your elbows–yeah, like that." she moved behind you, squinting her eyes as she observed. "your legs have to be further apart, and bend your knees a little." you obliged, your movements feeling a bit more aligned.

"okay, yeah. now do the move again."

you repeated the move, watching her through the mirror. "better! but your hips, watch me." she said, and your brain turned to mush as she demonstrated the move, swaying her hips fluidly.

"you saw that, right? just pretend like you're using a hula hoop. try again." she suggested, standing behind you once again. you tried following her instructions, but your movements still looked off. "hey, hey, hey." she started, placing her hands on your waist and you immediately felt your muscles tense under her touch as warmth flooded your cheeks. "loosen up, y/n. you're stiff, do it again but i'll guide you, okay?"

you felt your voice caught in your throat, nodding as you stared ahead at the mirror. you did the move again, but slowly as she directed your hips with soft, precise adjustments.

sophia didn't realise how close she had gotten until her front brushed against your back. she stepped aside and pulled her hands back as she felt her own cheeks begin to burn. "it– uh, sorry. but that was good. i–"

"okay, guys! let's start from the top!" nikky called over, cutting sophia off. "um, okay. let's practice more later then. good job." she smiled, before walking back to where the higher levels stood.

"jesus christ, what was that tension in the air?" manon asked, sneaking up behind you and making you jump. "fuck! don't do that!" you scolded, slapping her away. she burst out laughing. "bro, i nearly pissed myself just then, i do not know what that was."

"that was so gay, it genuinely made me itch." she grinned, wrapping her arms around you as you swore at her. "you're such a dick, manon."

what none of you realised was that missy and mitra watched your every move with sophia. the two women exchanged a glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

masterlist | next

a/n - guys ITLL GET BETTER HOLD AWN

TAGLIST CLOSED! @ssamlovr @sunshinez4 @fruityg0rl @meganskiendielsbtc @falling-intoo-deep @arihiu @nyssalvr @1luvkarina @ssryv @vrtualstar @hazel-tanthamore22 @lafortezalover @yeetaberry127 @leeseulss @saysirhc @gtfoiydlyj @bbanghanni @c-yerim @chaesitonmyface @en-chantedtomeetyou @jellaaa @artrizzler19 @soobnotfound @yukianism @perfectsunlight @meizinisnumberone @linnnsworld @thepurin @goofymickeyr @kristalag @cassiespoiler @blushmimi @meiphobic @taikabui @cceanvvaves

[kiajacksonmanifestation]

How I Manifested My Boyfriend in 2 Days <3

I kicked things off by taking some time to reflect on what I really wanted.

I realized I was longing for a relationship, craving a meaningful connection that would let me love deeply and be my true self.

Once I figured out what I truly desired, I started looking for subliminals to help me attract my future partner.

Ironically, the subliminal I picked was all about receiving a “love confession” from your significant other.

Keep in mind, I was SINGLE when I decided to listen to this. My mind instantly jumped to the idea that I already had a partner before I even hit play on the video.

I was expecting a love confession from “my partner,” even though I was completely single at the time.

And that’s how I ended up manifesting my boyfriend! He appeared out of nowhere and is just the sweetest guy!

He gets me completely, loves me without conditions, supports me through everything, and teaches me new things. I couldn’t ask for a better relationship!

So, what’s the takeaway? ASSUME, ASSUME, ASSUME. Stick with that assumption and listen to subliminals that support it.

Also, make sure to practice self-love so you can share love with others. You need to feel complete within yourself FIRST, and then everything else will fall into place. Trust me!

Thank you guys for taking the time to read this post! I greatly appreciate all my followers (and future followers as well!)

Here’s the link to the subliminal I listened to!:

[hoshifighting]

Hiii, today I was scrolling through TT and found out that during THE act, the vagigas sometimes make the "farting" kind of noises because of the air inside. Soooo my first thought was, what do you think SVT's reaction would be if it happened during your nasty time👀

And also, God bless you and your talent, thank you for sharing your works and making my life a little better 🙏

seventeen reaction to queefing

WARNINGS: smut, sensitive content.

seungcheol: your eyes go wide, and you're immediately like, “oh my god, i’m so sorry,” scrambling to pull the blanket over your head like it’s a shield from embarrassment. this man doesn’t even blink. “baby, what?” he chuckles, all warm and raspy like he’s genuinely confused why you’re apologizing. “that’s normal. you think i care about that? nah, keep going. don’t even start, baby girl. you’re not running away from because of something like this.”

jeonghan: you freeze, horrified, your cheeks blazing as you blurt out, “oh my god, that wasn’t—” “hey, hey,” jeonghan interrupts, lifting his head to look at you with that stupidly pretty face of his. “don’t even think about it.” “it’s embarrassing!” “it’s air.” he raises an eyebrow like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. you groan, trying to cover your face, but he gently tugs your hands away, planting a kiss on the tip of your nose. “relax, babe. you think i’m gonna stop worshipping you over something that happens to literally everyone? no way.”

joshua: when you freeze faster than someone caught stealing snacks at 2 a.m. joshua pauses too, blinking like he’s processing it. then he tilts his head, a soft smile creeping onto his face. “its okay.” he says, his voice soft and reassuring, like he’s trying to calm a spooked puppy. “yeah, but it’s… ugh!” you groan, wanting the bed to swallow you whole. he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. “y/n, seriously, it’s not a big deal.” when he moves to kiss you properly, his hands trailing up your sides, you realize he’s deadass unfazed. the man’s unshakable.

junhui: his first reaction is to get wide-eyed “woah, was that—?” “jun, no,” you cut him off, absolutely mortified. “nah, don’t do that.” his voice softens as he cups your face, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world. “it’s fine, babe, I swear..”

hoshi: you’d barely even noticed it happened, but he would. blinking like his brain just blue-screened. you’re already spiraling, trying to bury your face in the pillow. “oh my god, i’m so sorry—” “no, no, babe!” he’s quick to stop you, his voice practically tripping over itself. “it’s fine, it’s fine! actually, it’s kinda funny, right? like, pfft.” you peek up at him, and the man’s already cracking up, his laugh so contagious you can’t help but smile. “you’re not mad?” “mad? babe, why would I get mad?” you can’t even be embarrassed anymore because he’s so earnest about it, his hands gently pulling you back to him.

wonwoo: he blinks once, twice, and then tilts his head slightly like he’s processing. “dont worry, it’s not like you planned it.” h “yeah, but…” “no ‘buts,’” he interrupts, brushing his lips against yours. “then let me put it simply: i don’t care. i just care about you.”

woozi: then he clears his throat, trying to pretend he didn’t hear anything. but you’re immediately scrambling to apologize, cheeks flaming. “i swear i didn’t—” “stop,” woozi cuts you off. he sits back slightly, giving you space as his eyes meet yours. “you don’t need to explain. it’s not a big deal. it’s just air. you think that’s gonna scare me off or something?” you blink at him, his calm behavior throwing you off. “uh, i don’t know. maybe?” he huffs out a laugh, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth. “you’re ridiculous,” he murmurs. “it’s normal, and it doesn’t change how much i’m into you. so, relax, okay?”

minghao: you immediately stiffen, your hands flying to your face as you groan. “oh my god, hao, i’m so sorry.” he doesn’t even falter, just gives you a calm, amused look. “y/n, why are you apologizing?” “because—ugh! you know why!” “nothing to apologize for.” “but it’s so embarrassing.” “to who?” he counters, his hands sliding down your sides, grounding you. “not to me. now, can we move past this and get back to what we were doing?”

mingyu: holds you when you’re already trying to roll away from him, muttering a frantic string of apologies. “woah, woah, babe!” mingyu’s big hands are quick to pull you back, his voice full of concern. “what’s wrong?” “what’s wrong? you heard that!” he blinks, clearly confused for a second, and then realization dawns on his face. instead of laughing, he smiles. “oh, that? babe, that’s nothing.” “it’s still embarrassing,” you mumble, avoiding his eyes. “hey, you know I don’t care about stuff like that, right? it’s just us here. no judgment. ever.”

seokmin: it happens, and the room goes silent. you’re already halfway to a meltdown. he’s biting his lip, trying so hard not to laugh, but you can see the corners of his mouth twitching. “sorry, sorry,” he says quickly, waving his hands. “i’m not laughing at you, i swear.” “but you’re laughing!” you groan, trying to bury yourself in the sheets. he gently tugs the sheets down, his expression softening. “okay, listen. it’s not a bad thing, and then this little human moment happens, and it’s kind of adorable.” “adorable?!” he grins, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “yeah. because it’s you. now, come here and stop hiding from me.”

seungkwan: you immediately sit up, your face buried in your hands. “oh no kwannie,” seungkwan sits up too, rubbing your back gently. “y/n, it’s fine. seriously.” “it’s not fine! it’s so embarrassing!” “babe,” he says, his tone both gentle and slightly exasperated, “do you know how many awkward things I’ve done in my life? this doesn’t even make the top 100.” you glance at him, and he gives you a reassuring smile.

vernon: would 100% just act like it didn’t happen, not because he’s trying to be cool, but because he genuinely doesn’t think it’s a big deal. like, he hears it, goes, “huh,” and moves on with life. later, if you bring it up, he’d be like, “oh, yeah, that. it’s normal, right?” but also, he’s got this tiny smirk like he secretly finds it funny but isn’t about to embarrass you over it. chillest mf alive.

chan: this baby would be so flustered but trying so hard to play it cool. he’d pause, his ears would go all red, and he’d be like, “uh… are you okay?” and when you explain, he’d just nod all serious like, “oh, yeah, that’s normal. totally normal. happens all the time, i think. yeah.” but you know he’s silently combusting inside. later, he’d probably google it just to make sure he handled it right. adorably awkward but trying his best.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jack Howl - New Year's Attire Vignette

"That's how it should be."

[Mister S's Mystery Shop]

―Day 1 on the job

Jack: There's a ton of people here just for the New Year's sale. I gotta put my all into this.

Jack: Based on the shift schedule… Right now, Malleus-senpai and Jamil-senpai on the other team are doing ＴＡＫＯＡＧＥ battles.

Jack: Floyd-senpai's on the floor and register. I got stocking duty.

Jack: Everything keeps flyin' off the shelves faster than I can get 'em up, so I feel like I'm not getting any breaks, but…

Jack: If there's one thing I'm good at, it's breaking a sweat. I'll set up everything up all at once as my warming-up exercise!!

Jack: I guess I'll start with fixin' up the stationary corner. I'll just pick up this box filled with that stuff, and…

Jack: Notepads, quills, ink jars… All re-stocked. Nice! That should be good enough for the stationary corner.

Jack: Guess I'll do the clothing section next. I'll go grab the stock from the backyard…

Floyd: Ah, found ya, Sea Urchin-chaaan. I was lookin' for ya～

Jack: Floyd…-senpai. You need something?

Floyd: I'm handin' this customer off to ya.

Heartslabyul Student: I wanted to try buying some protein shakes to drink after muscle training, but I don't really get the difference between whey and soy.

Floyd: 'S what he's sayin', and I don't know nothing about muscle training, since I'm not into it, soooo. Plus, I'm getting tired of lookin' after customers～

Floyd: You're all about that training stuff, right, Sea Urchin-chan? Sooo I'll leave ya to it.

Jack: I REFUSE.

Floyd/Heartslabyul Student: Huh? / Eh?

Jack: Don't "Huh?" me. I've been tasked with restocking. Dealing with customers is your gig right now.

Jack: I don't care if you don't know anything about it, or are bored, or whatever. You do whatever was assigned to you. That's how it should be.

Floyd: Ehhh, but I don't wanna help customers anymore.

Floyd: If Sea Urchin-chan's not gonna help, then just run along and pick out whatever, I guess～

[Floyd leaves]

Heartslabyul Student: Eh? Pick out whatever…? C'mon, I came all the way to the store, here…

Jack: Whew, closing time, finally… I was using every muscle in my body, so my whole body just feels stiff.

Sam: Good job, my little doggy imp. How did the work suit you?

Jack: It was just the first day, but I definitely feel like I succeeded in doing everything I was assigned.

Sam: Nyeheehee, a reliable kid.

Sam: Only… If I were to compare you to the horned imp's team, I'd say your vibes are a little off.

Jack: Huh, vibes? A little off? What does that…

Sam: Well then, I'm counting on you tomorrow, too.

Jack: Wait, Sam-san!

Jack: My vibes are off…? I don't get it, was he saying that my work wasn't as good as the other team's work?

Jack: What did I do wrong? I definitely did everything I was supposed to do…

Jack: …Nope, I can't think of anything.

Jack: It's no use to just drown in my thoughts like this. I'll go for a run and try to clear my head.

[Sports Field]

Jack: Whew. As usual, I really like running in the crisp winter air, it helps clear my head.

Jack: …But I still don't get what was wrong with what I did…

Track & Field Club Member A: Hooray! My time got better since last time!

Track & Field Club Member B: See? Just like I said would happen, right? I told you this form's better to run in!

Track & Field Club Member A: Yeah… Now I'm really looking forward to the next meet. Let's get back to it after taking a quick break!

Jack: Hm…? Those guys are in the Track & Field club. And I'm pretty sure the next event's a marathon.

Jack: Hmph. Training together, huh. Listen to 'em acting all friendly with each other.

Jack: Well, it's true that practicing's the only way to get any better. So I need to make sure I work even harder tomorrow compared to today.

[Mister S's Mystery Shop]

―Day 2 on the job

Jack: I re-stocked, helped customers, and did my fair share of battles… I definitely worked twice as hard today as I did yesterday! My muscles got a crazy good workout!

Sam: Hey, doggy imp! It's break time, so make sure you rest up.

Jack: Sam-san! Thank you.

Jack: I know I did real good today. Uhh… And I think I had enough of that… what was it again…? Vibes!

Sam: Nyeheehee… You really think so? It didn't really look all that different from yesterday, to me.

Jack: HUH…!?

Jack: But I worked so hard… And there wasn't any difference from yesterday? Why's that?

Jack: Ugh, at this rate, I can say bye to that special bonus… What does that other team got that I don’t?

[Mister S's Mystery Shop]

Jack: Ugh, at this rate, I can say bye to that special bonus… What does that other team got that I don’t?

[Beside Mister S's Mystery Shop]

Jack: …......

Jamil: Oh, Jack. Are you on break? Good work out there.

Jack: Jamil-senpai, Malleus-senpai… You as well.

Malleus: What is wrong? You seem to be rather fatigued.

Malleus: I think we may sweep the special bonus if you continue in your present condition.

Jack: …Dammit, I can't even argue back, after what Sam-san said to me.

Jack: You guys look like you're doing fine enough.

Jamil: Well, yeah.

Jamil: But everything is all thanks to Malleus-senpai! I'm very thankful.

Malleus: Heh. A modest comment, Viper.

Malleus: After all, I am simply standing in front of the customers when you instruct me.

Malleus: ...Because that seems to make your life easier, does it not?

Jamil: E-Easier…? Hahaha.

Jamil: I just said that because whenever we do that, even the rowdiest customer seems to quiet down. I just presumed that we needed the right man for the right job…

Malleus: No need to explain. It is a fact that I am not accustomed to customer service. I will gladly follow your tutelage.

Malleus: You would do well to continue to make use of my presence.

Jack: Somehow I'm even starting to feel the pressure now… Ah, I need to head back work.

Malleus: Understood. Another time, Howl.

Jack: …Man… I feel like I don't see Floyd-senpai at all while we're on the floor,

Jack: But somehow those two are getting all chummy. …Oh! Wait…

Jack: Is this what Sam-san meant by "vibes"…?

Jack: Am I supposed to work together with Floyd-senpai like they do?

Jack: …No way, that'd be impossible! He's a moody guy, who knows how he'll act at any given moment.

Jack: Besides, I don't care who it is, I ain't gettin' all chummy with anyone!

Jack: Winning only matters if you can get it yourself. What's even the use of getting someone else's help to secure a victory?

Jack: But…

[FLASHBACK]

Sam: It didn't really look all that different from yesterday, to me.

Jack: …He did say that I hadn't improved at all from the day before, even though I know I worked even harder.

Jack: At this rate, I'll just be stuck walking in place. And above all…

Jack: I DEFINITELY DON'T WANT TO LOSE TO THE OTHER TEAM WITHOUT TRYING EVERYTHING!

Jack: I have to be able to do something by myself…!

[Mister S's Mystery Shop]

Jack: Next customer.

[beep]

Jack: That'll be 800 Madol [8 Thaumarks]. Thanks.

Jack: Whew, finally the line for checkout's winding down. I should replace the receipt paper while I can…

Floyd: Ehhh, you want a new pair of running shoes to kick off the new year～?

Floyd: I know tons about designer and brand-name shoes, but I don't know nothin' about running shoes.

Floyd: Soooo, you should just give up on those and find some other shoes to buy.

Jack: …Looks like Floyd-senpai is working in the shoes section. I see he's not taking it seriously, like usual.

Jack: Urgh… I guess I should go and…

Floyd: What, you want some kind of recommendation since you came all this way to buy some running shoes?

Floyd: I mean, sure, we got a guy who'd know that kinda stuff working here, but he's working the register right now, so I doubt he'll help you or nothin'.

Floyd: That dude's suuuuper hard-headed and stubborn and totally inflexible, so.

Jack: …Hey, that's not me you're talking about, is it?

Floyd: Oh hey, speak of the devil. What brings the cashier to our neck of the woods?

Jack: I heard you talking about running shoes… So I thought I'd suggest something.

Floyd: Eh, seriously? You?

Jack: …Yeah.

Floyd: Nice, lucky me. If you're gonna attend to the customer, I'm gonna go on break, then.

Jack: Huh? A break? What're you talking about, get some other work done in the meantime.

Floyd: I don't have nothin' else to do, I'm already done with cleaning and re-stocking. And manning the register was your job, so.

Floyd: Orrr… What, you want my help, or somethin'? Suuuure, I'll totally do it for ya～ If. You. Beg. Me. To. ♡

Jack: NO WAY I'D WANT YOUR HELP! WHO'D BEG YOU FOR ANYTHING!?

Jack: Stop messing with me… Whatever, go on your break, whatever you want. I don't need your help at all!

Floyd: Is that so? Dang, Sea Urchin-chan, you're a boss, running the register and helping customers out all at once～ Mmkay, I'm gonna leave it all to ya then.

[Floyd leaves]

Jack: And hey! You're coming with me! I'll give you my recommendations while I work the register, so you need to stand close enough to hear it!

Scarabia Student: Man, this guy is so restless… At this rate, I shoulda just gone and picked something out myself…

[Sports Field]

Jack: [pant, pant]… AAAAAARGH! EVEN RUNNING'S NOT CLEARING MY MOOD!!

Jack: Sayin' he'll "help" me, or whatever. I swear he just says that to get on my nerves.

Jack: I get that I gotta take this gig seriously, but there's no way I'm gonna get dragged down to his pace… Hm?

Track & Field Club Member A: Geeeeez～～! That guy seriously pisses me off! Why's he gotta keep nagging me about my form each time!?

Jack: Isn't that one of the guys who was training for the marathon the other day?

Jack: Is he just finishing up his club activities? I don't see his partner from the other day… And he seems pretty frustrated.

Track & Field Club Member A: Juuuuust 'cause he's got a little more experience in running marathons doesn't mean he can look down on me like that.

Track & Field Club Member A: I thought if I just saddled up with a guy that had way more experience, I'd be able to participate in the huge meet coming up, but I'm reaching the end of my patience…

Track & Field Club Member A: He gets all snooty every time I mess up even a tiny bit! I'm seriously gonna explode…!

Jack: …Hey, woah. Wasn't he the one saying "my time got better!" last time?

Jack: They were all buddy-buddy, but he's just mouthing off now. Sounds like they were a terrible combo.

Jack: Hah. How stupid.

Track & Field Club Member A: I've already gone through so much for this. I'm gonna do whatever I can to reach my goal…!

Jack: …......

[Mister S's Mystery Shop]

―Day 3 on the job

Diasomnia Student: Hey! When I dropped this plate I bought from you guys yesterday, it broke. I bet it was already cracked to begin with, wasn't it!?

Jack: HUH? DON'T BE STUP…!

Jack: …Ah, I mean, I understand. Please wait one moment.

Jack: Um. Floyd…-senpai.

Floyd: What? I'm in a pretty bad mood right now, since I gotta carry all these heavy things.

Jack: …Uhh… So, uh, can I ask… Can I ask you to help resolve a problem with a customer… Please?

Floyd: Huh?

Floyd: …What's going on, Sea Urchin-chan? You're acting pretty docile today.

Floyd: Didja eat something bad? Or didja just come cryin' to me since you can't figure out how to stop the argument on your own?

Jack: Grrrrr….!

Jack: …[breathes in, breathes out]

Jack: …Yeah. I know you're definitely better suited to deal with complaints like that. So, I'm… begging you.

Floyd: Uh-huuuh… Man, you really are being a good boy today, huh, Sea Urchin-chan.

Floyd: Well, mmkay then. I was just feelin' like I needed to let off some steam, anyway.

Floyd: So, I'll work with the customers instead now. You go and do the stuff I was doing, then.

Jack: …Got it. That'll probably be better in the long run, anyway. Thanks.

Jack: …Whew! Somehow I was able to get through that…!

Malleus: Oh, well, that was surprising. You seem to be doing much better than you were prior.

Jack: Eh!? Ack, Malleus-senpai and Jamil-senpai… Did you see that just now?

Jamil: Looks like you and Floyd are actually working better together as a team now.

Jack: WE AIN'T A TEAM!!

Jack: I was just… using Floyd-senpai!

Jamil/Malleus: USING?

Jack: So, the other day, I saw a few guys from the Track & Field club training for a marathon.

Jack: It looked like they were getting along pretty well, with one guy listening to the other's advice on changing up his form…

Jack: But once the guy who was getting the advice was all alone, he just started harping on and on about the other guy.

Jamil/Malleus: NOT SURPRISING.

Jack: When I saw that, at first, I just thought he was a spineless coward to talk about the other guy behind his back.

Jack: But as I watched him do whatever it took to try and achieve victory… I started to think about how I was going about things wrong.

Jack: I ain't doing what he says because I'm a coward, or whatever. I'm just using his strengths to snag my own victory.

Jack: You two are doing the same, right? You're using each other to bring out the best in each other.

Jack: So am I. There's no way I'd ever want to work with Floyd-senpai for any reason, but to win, I'll do what it takes.

Jack: That's all it is. So please, don't ever say something as nauseating as me being part of a team.

Malleus: Even without similar ideals, you are still able to cooperate with one another. …Wouldn't you consider that teamwork?

Jack: NO WAY!!!

Jack: I don't care to work alongside nor befriend anyone.

Jack: However, now that I've fully gotten the hang of it, I'm going to finish this gig in the best condition.

Jack: The person who'll give his all to this shop and snag that special bonus WILL BE ME!

Requested by @farfalla049.

[gingerteafairy]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 (𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Chronicles of buying a new couch with Dean.

tags n warnings: est. relationship, mentions of sex, positions, language. word count: +500

masterlist

Dean was as excited as a kid in a candy store, wandering around the furniture shop with an energy that was both infectious and endearing. After months of dating and spending so much time at your place, the two of you had decided it was time to take the next step—moving in together. Your home was already well-furnished, except for one glaring flaw: the old, worn-out sofa that practically screamed for replacement.

“So…” Dean began, stopping in front of a dark blue couch with an invitingly plush surface. He ran a hand over the armrest, his brow furrowing slightly in contemplation. “By my calculations, we’re looking at something like a two-seater, 140 centimeters wide.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow at him. “Pretty sure I’m bigger than that.”

He smirked, shooting you a playful glance. “Your feet can hang off the edge, it's cute.”

“And you’ll have your whole body hanging off.” You laughed, stepping closer to inspect the fabric. The corners of his mouth twitched upward as he leaned against the armrest, watching you.

“It’s comfy enough. It’s a sofa, not a bed.” He shrugged, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets, his posture casual yet attentive.

“I know. Honestly, anything’s better than what we’ve got now,” you muttered, brushing your fingertips across the cushions to test the texture. “But the fact of fucking on a couch is pretty good. I like it, so we need a new one.” He smiled at your comment and wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you gently against him.

“This one’s perfect for making a million things,” he said in a low voice, his breath warm near your ear.

“Remember how we fucked on the old one?” You leaned back slightly, playfully kneading his shoulder as you exaggerated the memory. “My back hasn’t forgiven me. That thing’s barely a meter wide.”

Dean chuckled, tilting his head thoughtfully. “It’s the standard size for a sofa.”

You gave him a skeptical look, crossing your arms. “Any couch that leaves you sore after lovemaking is not a good sofa, Dean. The only possible position is cowgirl.”

“It’s for sitting. That’s literally its job.” He grinned, leaning closer with a teasing glint in his eye. “Hey, cowgirl is one of my favorites, you know that. And the way you hung on me on the old one, trying to stabilize and kissing me while doing it… chef's kiss.”

You rolled your eyes and pinched his cheek lightly, making him laugh. “Oh no, not the face,” he joked, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, let’s pick one and keep the cheek-pinching at home on the new couch."

“Deal. But you’re helping me move it when it gets here. I’m not ending up sore again,” you chuckled, your tone half-serious.

“Anything for you, princess,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. The warmth of his voice and the sincerity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

Dean pulled back with a sly smile and gestured to the nearest salesperson. “Let’s make a fucking good inauguration at home, sugar” he said, shooting you a wink before handling the purchase.

[laylasverse]

GAME DAY

ꪆৎ a regular day in my better cr except is a wednesday so it's game day ( high school girls basketball ) and also happens to be a snow day . . .

7:07 AM

i get woken up by my six-month-old kitten screaming in my ear for no reason. milo won’t let me sleep past seven in morning for actual no reason because i feed her at 11 am so it doesn’t even make sense. i usually just kick ( picking her up & move her, not actually kicking her ) her off the bed and go back to sleep.

on normal days i go to school for like two & a half hours because i only need one credit to graduate and i do online college classes. but today was a snow so i didn’t have to go.

10:30 AM

i actually start my day by showering and doing my daily routine, including feeding milo.

today i went to breakfast with my friend kennedy at a small coffee shop. i don’t actually like coffee, or coffee shops, but kennedy loves them so i always go with her when she asks. we always end up talking for hours on end. something about her makes me spill everything to her, ranging from how i hate ap calc to how i think im just playing a good person & not actually one.

we’ve been friends still elementary school so it makes sense how i just tell her everything under the sun.

12:16 PM

after breakfast / lunch i go over to jason’s house. he’s the middle child of a doctor & a engineer so he lives in the richest part of town ( literally all the way across town from my house lol ).

we spend time together doing absolutely anything. he likes to read while i do my puzzles. we might be a fifty-year-old married couple . . . but he keeps puzzles at his house that i do when i go over there. i’m currently working on a peacock feather puzzle on his bedroom floor. i love to watch conan o’brien reruns while i do my puzzles.

3:30 PM

jason has to go to basketball practice. i go back to my house and take a nap before i have to get up and get ready for the game.

6:00 PM

the old government teacher is my school’s announcer for home games. so he does the whole “senior number forty-four, layla mullis!” and i get to do my secret handshake with my favorite junior, my sister kara ( yes, she’s a junior on jv. i took all the ‘good at basketball’ genes ).

jason sits with my mom & stepdad in the stands. my stepdad is like 5’5 so jay literally looks like a giant sitting with them lol. he has to watch as i make literally all my threes but none of my freethrows. i got fouled like two times. i finished with fifteen points and made my best friend, stevie, dunk to beat the clock.

8:30 PM

me, stevie, jason, vinnie ( stevie’s bf ), kara, and carmen ( kara’s gf ) all go out to eat after the game. we went to our favorite mexican restaurant in town. while we were there i knocked over full cup of water. im talking a full glass of ice water. it went everywhere. all over my lap and jason’s jeans. a few ice cubes made it across the table to stevie too.

i might be a little bit clumsy. just a little itsy bit though, trust . . .

9:37 PM

i take my sister’s girlfriend home before actually going home to our house. by the time we got there jason was already upstairs in my room waiting for me. my parents let him stay over pretty often. i mean we’re both eighteen and about to graduate so like. my stepdad had this joke that jay can’t come over if i don’t win my games . . . haha very funny dad. 😐

for the rest of the night after i shower i get to listen to jason yap on and on about the drama he’s heard from his guys. he always has something new to tell me. it’s honestly so entertaining. then he falls asleep on me. he’s just a big breathing teddy bear.

ꪆৎ : this was actually so fun to do

IB : this post by @ bkershft

2025 ⓒ LAYLASVERSE

[thetarsier]

THE QUESTION

a/n: okay so i'm kinda sorta out of my reblog-only purgatory and i finally have some motivation to post on here again!! requests are now being accepted again and i'll try to get the motivation to write them!! i've missed u lot :)

Word Count: ~700

Warnings/notes: not proofread, hotch being happy?

<3: aaron hotchner x reader

“Are you breaking up with me?” 

You had to admit, you hadn’t wanted the question to arise so quickly and upfront, but there it was, floating in front of the two of you. 

It was a rather romantic location to be broken up with; a picnic in the park on a nice spring afternoon. But Aaron was nice and he wouldn’t break up with you over the phone, or at home where you would have to leave and then come back for your things awkwardly. Or worse: be overheard by Jack.

It took Aaron a few seconds to comprehend what you said, “W-What?”

Ah. He hadn't expected to be caught out so early. Well, you were nothing if not merciful - Aaron did not have to let you down slowly if you did it for him. You'd felt as though he'd been leading up to it for a while now.

He had gone out a few times and been cagey about where he was going, he was being secretive, jumping when you entered rooms and seemingly being very interested in how you were interacting with the other people in his life.

It's so nice how you are with Jack.

It was your fault, really. You inserted yourself into his life, jumped head-first and hoped that that was what Aaron had wanted, needed. It wasn't. You weren't.

You braced yourself.

“Usually, when the guy starts to act strange, the girl suspects cheating, but I know you wouldn’t cheat - or at least I hope I know that you wouldn’t cheat - so the only thing left is that you’re breaking up with me.”

“I’m not breaking up with you, honey.”

“You’re not breaking up with me?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Suddenly the idea of you stewing over your fictional breakup for even a few minutes was mortifyingly embarrassing. You wished you hadn't said anything at all, kept Aaron in the dark about your insecurity.

You looked up at the trees above you, trying to catch your breath.

“Though I should have guessed that you would have noticed something was going on, you’re a better profiler than I am,” He mumbled as he fished for something in his pocket. 

“Yeah, that’s why you’re the unit chief.” You rolled your eyes, giddy in your moment of relief that the best thing that had ever happened to you wasn’t changing. You didn’t even notice that he’d stopped looking for something until he went silent and you were forced to check on him. 

That’s when you saw the box. 

It wasn’t open yet, and you refused to overreact again before you were sure it wasn’t a promise ring, a necklace, or something else. But when Aaron opened the box to reveal the most engagement ring-looking engagement ring - a three-stone silver ring that was certainly too expensive to be a promise ring - you allowed yourself a small gasp. 

“Aaron-”

“I love you,” You didn’t mind the interruption when it came like that, “Jack loves you, you’re our family. I know that I’ve been acting strange recently, and that’s because I’ve been trying to keep this a secret when I’m so-” He paused to take in a breath, a grin spreading across his lips. “-So excited to put this ring on your finger. I almost just asked you to marry me last night.”

The confirmation that he was, in fact, asking you to marry him made tears form in your eyes, your heart overflowing with love but deeper. You couldn’t believe you’d thought he was breaking up with you. 

Aaron didn’t bother getting onto one knee - he’d done that before, and this time was different. He took a breath in, released it heavily, and then, with sparkling eyes:

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes!” You could barely get out the word before Aaron had closed the box and practically launched himself forward, catching your face in his hands and kissing you passionately.

Later, you would laugh with your friends about the question you'd asked, the question that had been plaguing your mind for days, and how it contrasted so wildly with the question that Aaron had asked, the question he'd been thinking about for months.