#i write way too much

[sanuue]

Of course I made a bully self insert, i’m what you consider 🗣ULTIMATE CRINGE🗣 also unrelated doodle

[hapigairu]

Lysithea's parents watching her enable Ionius 2.0 in GW: >:c

:)))

Seriously though, there is so much wrong with this subplot.

First of all, the reasons as to why all of this happens. Claude decides to change Leicester's political system and becomes its first king, meaning that the spirit in which the Alliance was founded has been destroyed. Personally, I could have accepted a slight change that could give the leader of the Alliance full executive powers in wartime in their Constitution (or whatever legal text they have) or just as a new law. You could even have something like this (it's just a quick idea, and I'm no jurist so of course it's not well-written at all): "Art. 1: The leader of the Leicester Alliance shall be provided with all executive powers during wartime so as to not delay any strategic decisions. Art. 2: Upon the return of peaceful times, provided that the Leicester Alliance is victorious, our leader shall be subjected to a vote of approval in which all noble Houses but that of our leader shall participate. Art. 3: Should a majority of noble Houses vote in disfavour of our leader, they shall cede their position to the noble House that shall be appointed by a vote thereafter." Because, yeah, I get that having to debate with the roundtable during a war is far from ideal, but going "that's a nice system you have there... would be a shame if someone changed it completely and gave minor lords even less of a say"... is not okay.

Add to that the fact that these three minor Houses are dealt with in side-maps and never talked about ever again by Claude and his circus because invading the Kingdom from the East on behalf of Edelbulldozer is sooo much more important and interesting /s. We don't even know what happens to them exactly IIRC? Did they "just" take a beating but keep their territories? Were their territories given to another House? Who knows... The only thing that sets Claude above Ionius is that he didn't send Agarthans to these Houses, but... 1) of course, he couldn't because he doesn't know of their existence and 2) that's such a low bar it's basically buried in the ground. And yes, I find it really hard to believe Lysithea's parents would be a-okay with Claude's actions and her own leniency about all this. But they don't have names let alone sprites so who cares. Also, I could understand Lysithea not having too much of an impact in Houses, because of the permadeath option. But in Hopes? Sure, you have permadeath as well, but it works quite differently, right? If, say, Felix dies during a mission, it's game over instead of him disappearing forever, yeah? Why couldn't they do that with Lysithea and have her actively challenge Claude because of what happened to her? Oh, wait. I forgot Hopes was averse to criticising Claude or Edelgard and that GW's appeal was cute girls. My bad.

[yourdrugisafartbreaker]

The concept of a perfect society is absolutely fascinating to me. What even constitutes a perfect society? One free of problems? What are their problems? What is required to get rid of these problems? Does everyone want to get rid of these problems? Are these problems only considered problems if they are perceived as so by a general consensus? Is a perfect society a concept explained better by philosophy or by math? Are the chances of problems of varying severity being present as simple as displayed percentages? Does this allow for one exact combination to lead to one perfect society? What about the chances for multiple societies to find this combination? Are there weighted variables that prevent this exact combination from occurring naturally? Is it even worth seeking a perfect society through artificial means? And what exactly does perfection constitute? Is it possible that a perfect society can exist for everyone despite their different perceptions of the world? Would a perfect society be achieved if these variations were removed? Does a society require autonomy in order to be considered one? And what are the costs of perfect societies at the end of the day? Are these hypothetical societies really perfect if they were built on things far from perfection? Would beings give up on their perfect society if they were to whittle out the devils in their society’s details? What are the parameters for a society that is good enough? Will everyone stop searching for a perfect society if they find one that is good enough?

Anyways, trash pandas are adorable, and I love Rocket Raccoon.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Not So Artificial Intelligence

Barbara thinks it was Bruce, with his love for new additions to the Cave. Bruce thinks it was Tim, with his late hyperfixation on AI. Tim thinks it was Babs, with her ever evolving network of keeping everything under control.

They are all wrong, but the fact stays a fact: the BatCave has an AI assistant now.

It is not very good at first, not recognizing voices very well and messing up commands, but the Bats write it off as a learning curve. Besides, it never makes the same mistakes twice, and in a couple of months, even the tiniest slip ups fade away.

Its name is Betty. First, Dick named it Bat-AI (a reasonable name), then it transformed into Bat-I for easier pronunciation, and then Steph called in Betty once, and the name was sealed.

And they all love Betty. Betty is the best, keeping track of their everyday lives, reminding them of their civilian meetings and vigilante business, alerting them of any suspicious activity in the city. Oracle finally gets to sleep for more than 4 hours in a day with Betty's help. Tim gets company when he is three weeks in and elbows deep in a case - it's easier when he has an illusion of someone to discuss the matter with, and Betty even offers him insight. Damian learns to do digital art just to have a little competition with Betty. He wins, but the AI is a worthy opponent, in his opinion.

Even Bruce begrudgingly likes the AI assistant. She is competent and helpful, and Alfred seems to approve of how she doesn't let Bruce overwork himself when he escapes medbay to keep searching for answers.

That is, until one day, Tim installs speakers specifically for Betty in the Cave.

The voice that comes from them is not robotic or mechanical.

It definitely has human intonation.

"Hello, Red Robin," the voice - a male voice, actually - greets him with slight amusement. Tim feels an uneasy feeling sinking down in his stomach.

"Betty?"

"You know me as such. I would prefer it if you called me Danny. He/them pronouns."

Remind him, who installed the AI?..

---------------

Danny got trapped inside the Batcomputer somehow - I suspect Technus had a hand in it - and decided to embrace it. He used to be a vigilante himself, so why not help this whole family of vigilantes while he is at it? They look like they need a hand.

[erabu-san]

I enjoyed every second of this quest

[This art has platonic intention. Thank you for not tag ship!]

[baeshijima]

thoughts on being engaged to duke!sunday, the head of the oak family, an incredibly influential figurehead within society, the close subordinate of emperor gopher wood who brought him and his sister in and raised him like his own, and the villain who faces a tragic ending in a novel you recently finished — the very same one you just so happen to find yourself transmigrated into. he is as cunning as he is blinded, a trait which brought ruin to many in the empire, and one which ultimately brought ruin to himself at the hands of the protagonists.

as luck would have it, you became a barely mentioned side character from a marquis family, whose role was to be the villain's wife stuck in a one-sided love who, too, would get caught up in the tragedy alongside him. however, now that it's you who is stuck in this position, you're determined to try any means necessary to deter him from going down that path, all in an effort to escape your predestined doomed fate!

of course, you didn't expect it to be easy. the day of your arrival in this world was already the night before your wedding, so you had little time to prepare yourself for the nonchalance of your supposed family, how they viewed you as but a means — a tool — to boost their influence and prosperity, the dismissive mannerisms of the household servants, and the absolute beauty of a man you will be married to.

(seriously. the novel descriptions did not do him justice. he was like... like... like he was handcrafted by god himself! and not to mention his sister, robin, was the very epitome of an angel! perhaps you're destined to perish by the god-tier visuals instead...)

to say the least, the wedding ceremony went by quickly. safe to say you didn't spend the night; he was cordial and gentlemanly upon letting you know that he won't do anything until you're ready, that you can take this relationship slow, but somehow you ended up feeling a tad insulted. like, who leaves their newly wedded alone in a big cold bed as they walk out on their own? a sick bastard that's who!

well, whatever. it's not like you need nor want to consummate with him! besides, you have bigger things to worry about — things such as your impending death. and, of course, the only way to stop sunday that you can imagine working is by chipping away at his resolve bit by bit, and opening his eyes to reality.

he is a tragic character, one who cares more about the well-being of penacony and its people than anyone else, but was manipulated into getting his hands dirty in the emperor's stead. you knew this. you sobbed over his story, cursed out the protagonists, and even fought internet randos on novel forums about sunday's motivation and how,

no, he is not just a stupid villain. he is a complex character with flaws and humanity and was cruelly taken advantage of by someone he considered family. he was deceived through the suffering the emperor wanted him to see to make him easily manipulated, creating a rift between him and robin to have that prominent separation. you know what? maybe you're just a !%#@ who can't even #@?"% read properly!

and yet you still find yourself at a loss when faced with the walls he has in place. your initial efforts went as well as it possibly could have; you trying to earnestly help him, while he "kindly" dismisses your offers! well, "kindly" being more condescending since you could read between the lines of his mannerisms and amiable demeanour, but that's fine! you expected this! that just means you have to double down on your sincerity, get through to his heart (somehow), and help him realise humanity isn't as weak as he's led to believe!

you have three years until the novel's plot officially starts, and another year after that until your demise. that's plenty of time to get him to warm up to you!

it was easier said than done, but after your valiant effort and abundance of time put into this relationship, which admittedly you could do with some of that lost time back, you could give yourself a pat on the back with the progress you made! while you definitely could have done without a lot of the headaches, it's safe to say sunday has significantly warmed up to you in comparison to your wedding day. he now willingly eats all his meals with you with some real conversation, takes garden strolls with you in the early evenings, invites you out for dinner at a restaurant at least four times a week, hell he's even joked and laughed with you more frequently! but most importantly, he has begun asking for your opinion before finalising any decisions he is required to make. and he actually listens and considers your side! now, that certainly is the best outcome you could hope for after all this time, and it most definitely will help in your endeavour to save you both from the protagonists!

however, you've noticed he's been more... affectionate? well, at the very least he now willingly holds your hand when in private (not just in moments when you're in the public eye and he has to make sure the family's reputation is spotless), sometimes he will hug you out of the blue ("i just need to... recharge. you have a way of calming me down. i hope you don't mind." ...how could you say no to his supreme god-tier face card? that's just a losing battle you won't even bother fighting against.), oftentimes he opts to just gaze wordlessly at you (robin had mentioned over one of your tea times how it almost appears as though there is no one but you in the world when sunday gazes at you with, in her words, "the eyes of a man so deeply in love!" ...whatever that's supposed to mean...), but a more recent development has been his sudden interest in kissing you; well, more specifically giving you a kiss to the back of your hand or on your forehead — certainly not anywhere near the lips! (besides, he's probably just gotten comfortable with you, enough where he can freely act without judgement. nothing more, nothing less.)

well, either way, development is development! soon enough, the time for the main plot to start has arrived. it of course follows what you remember, from the organised balls to the protagonists meeting to the political aspects of it all. the only difference is sunday's less active involvement in all the schemes and the emperor's ploy. rather, he seems more focused on you and the future of your marriage and even displayed a sudden interest in your practically non-existent relationship with one of the foreign diplomats, aventurine— wait...

"[name]," he calls your name out so sweetly you nearly disregarded it as someone else he was talking to. well, perhaps you would have done had he not suddenly appeared before you, a tight-lipped smile tugging the corners of his lips as he steadily approaches you.

oh. he doesn't seem very happy, if his tense figure is anything to go by. you wonder if one of the nobles grated his nerves a little too much this time?

sunday comes to a halt a step away from you. "i don't like that... gambler being so close to you. it... it brings me a rather unpleasant feeling." there's a slight, trembling pause. not a moment later does he close the gap between you, one knee on the ground as he matches your seated height on the fountain rim, your hands gently enclosed in both of his.

you idly wonder if this is what robin meant by the so-called "eyes of a man so deeply in love" she constantly gushed about, for the way in which he gazes up at you is enough to render you breathless.

"tell me, [name]," he begins once more. there is an underlying desperation woven within his tone, one which has your head spinning and heart thumping wildly as his trembling gaze holds you in place. "tell me, what am i to do with this fervent love and overwhelming adoration i hold for you?"

oh.

...oh.

perhaps your impending doom should be the least of your concerns when you now find yourself in the arms of a clingy husband...

(though, it's safe to say you did, in fact, manage to prevent him from succumbing to his tragic fate! you just gained a loving, yet slight slightly emotionally challenged husband along the way.

well, you can help him work through it; you have the rest of your lives now to figure it out, after all.)

[gojoest]

“you look too pretty to be going out without me”

satoru’s eyes follow your every move as you sit on the chair in front of the vanity table, applying balm on your lips with the tip of your finger (getting ready to go out with the girls only).

he walks over to you from behind and leans in enough to rest his chin on your shoulder and take a closer look at your reflection in the mirror. “waaaay too pretty”, he corrects himself, his puffy lips forming some semblance of a childish pout.

“and that’s a bad thing because?”, you peek back at him in the mirror.

he knits his brows. “because other men exist”

“and?”

“they will look at you”

“and?”

“they will like what they see”, he drags out through a whine.

“it’s not like i care”, you shrug.

“but i do. they shouldn’t look, you’re mine.”

“you said it yourself—i’m yours, so what’s the problem?”

“the problem is—they don’t know that”

“and what can i do about that? walk around with a label hanging from my neck that says i belong to you?”

“maybe. or maybe—”, he pauses. reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a tiny box. “or maybe you should wear this”, he continues while turning your chair to the side to make enough room to kneel down in front of you.

“i think this will get the message through to those other men that look at you, and let them know you’re off limits. what do you think about that?”

others might think he’s too unserious to be proposing to you like this. but the truth is, he’s never been this serious about anything in his life before. because there, in that tiny box, is the ring he’s been carrying around for months. delaying the big question out of sheer dread that you might say no.

[laroserie]

i love the idea of joining the batfam by dating bruce, but can you imagine how awkward it must be ?

like you are dating bruce, you most probably know he is batman (he couldn't date seriously someone and never tell them) which is like a huge thing, you probably knew each others for at least 5 years and dated for at least 2 before you even step foot in his house and even then ! you still have never meet any of his adopted kids, he always has a way of avoiding The meeting.

of course - you know who his kids are, bruce is ... literally the it guy of gotham, you very much know the names and faces of his family - but that's it (now if you know their vigilantes identities is different story)

the question is, are they aware of your existence ? (of course alfred is aware; that out of the question, he followed to development of yours and bruce relationship from a to z)

going more for a no, not at the start, bruce has this clumsy dumb bilionaire personality but he probably could not like for you to receive media attention because he doesn't wish for your privacy to be intruded upon because you are dating (now there may have been one instance where the paparazzi took a picture of you and him together, but they could only see you from the back, or your face wasn't visible for whatever reason). they probably learnt about your existence very late into your relationship with bruce, and it's surely by accident, like, one of them see a message from you to bruce (and it's something probably something very cheesy) when he left it somewhere by inadvertence. and depending on who see that, they either fully open bruce's phone (sorry but they all know his phone password, bruce isn't aware of that tho) and read your conversation or they find some others way to have access to his messages with you (that isn't so blatant).

they for sure, do an 'emergency' meeting about it (dick and damian were the two that really wanted to do one, the rest probably don't care that much at that time, they probably think you are just the fling of the month for bruce - well usually the fling of the month is not that ... cheesy with him ? in their messages, and the conversations aren't usually that long ... nor do they go back that much. but whatever ! they do suddenly notice that it's been a while, since, well the last fling of the month of bruce but, it must just be a coincidence) which end up with them keeping tabs on you, just in case

now, you meeting them could happen in two way

either they are the one to meet you first - they don't want to wait for bruce to formally introduce you to them - or them to you. the one that 'lead' this is for sure damian, he is determinate to find out your intention with his father (and fight you), dick will lie and say he is just there to make sure everything go 'well' but he is just genuinely very curious about you and the fact that you are dating bruce - this can go for most of them, tho cass and tim are probably the one that are the most reticent to meeting you ? but nevertheless, they still are here, because they for sure won't let damian and dick have all the 'fun'. now jason, is probably also coming for the shit and giggle.

or you meeting them could happen because of bruce - deciding that it's finally time you meet his kids, so he invite all of them to dinner telling them he was someone he wants them to meet, and telling you explicitly that he wants you to meet his family (and the people that are part of his family but aren't family family) - of course, he could talk about it with you first, he could never force you into that. the meet - dinner, probably do not go in the way bruce hoped for it to go (but truth be told, he wasn't expecting it to go the way he wished it did). it's not awful, nothing bad happen. it's just awkward. one of them (probably jason) let slip that they already knew about you - damian make it very clear that he doesn't accept you (and dick has to try to diffuse the situation and tell you that damian is just joking - damian is not joking and he gives a death glare to dick), tim probably do not say anything of half of the dinner before asking you a weird question about something he should have no information about (like what's up with one of your weird habit / quirk), cass is just silent - she assess you for the entirety of the dinner (she conclude by the end of it that you quite a nice person and that she likes you quite a bit), duke is very kind and is very polite with you (he is a bit apprehensive and isn't sure why he is there but he figures it's because bruce wanted to have at least one regular person treating you normally - dick is too ... enthusiastic for that role)

at the end of said dinner, when bruce is driving you home, it's probably the most silent ride home you have ever experienced. until you burst out laughing - the dinner was probably the funniest shit you experienced. it felt like it came straight out of a shitty tv show with 14 seasons. sure it was very much awkward but still funny ! you reassure bruce that it was fine, though you could have liked a warning.

and ... you can add a yandere twist on it, and i love yandere so ... . some of them (tim and cass and probably dick) could start developing yandere tendencies when they learn of your existence ( and keep 'tab on you' aka stalks you and learn everything they can about you ), the others (damian and jason + eventually steph and duke even though they are probably some of waaay lesser yandere-y yandere) could start becoming like that after they finally meet you in person. damian could be the one to take the most or less time to become attach on you, it depend, but he could go thru a big phase of 'i refuse for you to replace talia, my mother, therefor i will despite your entire existence' but if you try to get closer to him, this phase will end very soon and his barrier melt away, if you want to let him take his time to accept you, the result will be the same but damian will try to make up for the time he hated you.

and of course, yandere bruce could be so happy for you to like / get to know and get closer to his family, and that's one more way he can tie you to him !

[bacchuschucklefuck]

they tried to rebrand as The Criminals but riz is literally the city council's treasurer and also turns out people in their late 20s don't really name their friend groups. so now they're The Intrepid Heroes

[revvetha]

[shows up at your door at 2AM] hey can we go through that last D&D session scene by scene and discuss the symbolism and the narrative themes and their implications, and how each character has grown and evolved? But in a normal way?

[abyssal-ilk]

no more romance. romance is canceled. tell me about your warden/hawke/inquisitor's best friend and any info you want to add about their dynamic 🖐

[biblically-accurate-dca]

painting test with a limited color palette

here's the moon equivalent!

[deerboybreeder]

LONG fucking fantasy below the cut whoops. Tw for rape, drugging and stalking ♥️

I move to a small town in the middle of nowhere to completely restart my life. The community is small and tight knit, but thankfully extremely accepting, so me being trans is a non issue! Or at least, people have the decency to not say anything about it to my face. I feel welcomed in this town, though I spend a lot of my time improving the patch of land I moved onto and less talking to residents, even though I've met nearly everyone.

I start getting letters in the mail, complimenting me in sweet, flowery language. It makes me feel special, but there's no return address, so I can't write back. But over time, the letters get more possessive. Once, the letter describes my body fairly graphically, in all the most complimenting ways, but it's clear they saw me working shirtless in my garden, tits free to the wind. My land is huge and fenced in, someone would have to have jumped my fence and gotten very close without my noticing to see me doing that.

I start spending a little less time at home and more time in town, hoping to make some connections to keep my mind off my "secret admirer", who started recently describing how beautiful and motherly of a man I would make swollen with his baby. I don't tell anyone about it, embarrassed by the content, and the fact that despite the obvious escalation, it makes me wet to think about all this attention. I'm not beloved by the town, but I make a few good friends.

One day, a year to the day I moved into town, a package shows up at my door. Its from my secret admirer, a very small bottle of wine with a letter attached. Praising all my accomplishments this year, in detail, in order. Singing my praises and wishing for even more in the upcoming year. Against my better judgement, I accept, and take the wine inside.

I generally am a lightweight when it comes to alcohol- I learned that recently, out with friends at the local bar. One had bought me a drink and I needed help home afterwards, and the friend that bought me the round felt so badly about my state he walked me home himself. But I had nothing else to do that day, so I poured myself a glass anyway.

I don't drink often, so I didn't recognize right away that something was wrong. Didn't notice that I was fading in and out of consciousness on the couch until one moment I was watching a documentary on wilderness survival, and the next it was about space travel. My body was heavy, I could barely move, so the couch would have to do that night.

I almost chalked it up to overindulgence when my front door opened.

It was a small town- I had no reason to lock my door. Even my secret admirer hadn't made mention of wanting to break in, just lamented that they couldn't work up the courage to approach me first. But apparently, this was how they chose to do it.

I yelled, a slurred and disoriented thing. Time was runny, and I didn't even have time to process running before they were on me. A mask, sunglasses and a ball cap obscured my attackers face, hair seeming meticulously tucked into the cap to further obscure their identity.

I tried to struggle, but I'm small and they're much bigger- not to mention the wine that I realize must've been drugged. They shush me, clearly altering their voice so I wouldn't know who they are- small town, after all.

They pull up my shirt, tangling me in it and covering my face so I can't see them. Everything is running together, and at some point they've taken my pants off too, Im lying naked before them. Everything narrows down to sensations that run together. A mouth sucking on my nipple, my attackers hands running reverently down my body. They're murmuring words I can't understand because my head is swimming from the spiked drink. Their fingers find my wet and waiting slit, and they thumb over my tdick, and despite myself I make a strangled noise.

Then, I am aware of their cock at my entrance, and I get another burst of fighting, but it's useless. They shush me, kissing the side of my face through the fabric of the shirt around my face, and promise to be gentle as they push themself into my dripping cunt. They moan openly into my ear, muffled by the shirt, and start playing with my tits while they rape me.

Everything is blurry, I keep slipping in and out of consciousness, only to wake up and find that they're still fucking me. They whisper praises, saying they wish they'd done this a year ago when I first moved in, how much of a tease I was working in my garden shirtless or changing in front of the window. How we were going to be so happy together, how excited they were to realize I had a womb they could fill. How they'd start with one, but they knew I would look heavenly round and heavy with their baby for the rest of my life.

I don't know how much time passed, them using my pliant body like a cocksleeve. They were mostly true about being gentle, aside from the bruising on my hips where they held me down. They came against my waiting cervix at least once, but it all ran together for me. After cumming inside me, they gently rubbed my stomach over my womb, scratching the trail of dark hair that sprouted over the year taking testosterone.

I wanted to cry, but they stayed inside me growing soft for a while, gently fondling me or kissing my body. Eventually, I blacked out entirely.

The next morning I couldn't pretend it was a dream- I was left tangled up in my clothes, though a blanket from my room was draped over me and my TV turned off. My cunt was sore and I had the world's worst hangover. I stumbled to the shower and tried not to throw up.

I didn't want to be alone, so after my chickens were fed I went down to the friends house who helped me home that night. He had been so kind, and we'd started getting close. He had even dismissed a mutual friend making a joke about taking advantage of me the night he helped me home- he'd just helped me to my bed and left. I could trust him.

He knew something was off the moment he saw me, and ushered me inside. He got me water from his fridge, and sat down with me to let me talk.

I told him everything. First about the rape that night, then elaborating to the stalker in tears. He looked horrified, and let me sob in his arms. He was so kind to me, so good to me. I told him I didn't want to be alone. He offered to move in with me for a little while, to make sure nothing else happened. I agreed immediately, and he started packing up his things right that second.

His time spent moved in was nice. I got up early for my chickens and garden, but somehow he was always up earlier, making me coffee and breakfast. Some days he even watered my plants for me, just to be kind. He was sweet, always there to support me. He slept on the couch with no complaints, and even held me close when a noise outside had me convinced the stalker was going to break down the now locked door and rape me again.

The admirers notes slowed. They first were promises of coming back again, to see my "beautiful fertile body" up close again. Then threats when my friend moved in. Then nothing. I thought the nightmare was over.

I had chalked up the throwing up to a traumatic response and the drugs working their way out of my system. When it continued I didn't think much of it. Attributed the weight gain to my friend fussing over me and making sure I ate well. But the slightly round look of my stomach unsettled me, so I bit the bullet and took a pregnancy test.

Positive.

I was in hysterics when I saw the lines, and my friend ran into the room asking if I was hurt. I just shook my head and showed him the test, and he took me into his arms. We both know by this point it was too late to abort in the state this town was in, and travel costs put it out of the question if I could go out of state to have it done.

My friend assured me that it would be alright. That he'd help me through this. That he'd even help me raise the baby if I didn't want to be a single father.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, maybe it was the kindness he'd shown me this past month or two. Maybe it was the way he looked up at me, having knelt down in front of me to make his promise of support. But I kissed him. I had fallen in love with this man, who'd taken care of me in my time of greatest need. And with the way he kissed me back, he'd fallen for me too.

It was like a switch was flipped, like he had been holding back this entire time. I invited him into my bed, and every night his hands were on me. I loved the way he felt, so happy to have someone else touch me after what happened. Every touch was adoring and reverent, he made me feel like a prince. Id beg him to cum deep inside me and breed me, and he'd get a look in his eyes when he pounded my cunt. It helped me pretend it was his baby growing inside me, especially when he'd put his hand on my growing stomach protectively.

Our relationship moved quickly. We were dating for only three months when he proposed to me, but it felt like three years. Gladly I accepted, and it took only two months to set up the wedding. He handled everything, insistent I just relax because he didn't want to stress out the baby. I was heavily pregnant at our wedding, and I heard a few murmurs about it being a shotgun wedding. I let them gossip- I hadn't told anyone about my attack, and I didn't care if they thought we were just getting married because I got knocked up. My husband and I knew the truth.

Those final few months were hard, but my wonderful husband took such good care of me. Doted on me hand and foot, took care of the chickens entirely, and with winter setting in soon I didn't need to tend the garden at all. This loving wonderful man cared for me through every stage of this unwanted pregnancy and turned it into the start of a beautiful life. It was like a scene out of a romance novel.

My labor was hard, but he was there through it all. Fussing over me and ensuring I got the best care. It hurts beyond words, the baby huge and heavy, but I managed. A sweet baby girl.

He was overjoyed. The next two months spent in a sleepy newborn haze, of course. But he was always there, at my side. He cooked dinner, kept the house tidy, watched the baby as I tended the chickens, our main income aside from a few residuals from some old novel he wrote years ago. He didn't even ask for sex, knowing I was healing, even if I wanted to regardless of doctors orders. But we waited.

The anniversary of the attack came and went, and he held me through my sobs. Reminded me that even if the experience was horrible, we had our beautiful daughter, and our beautiful relationship, because of it. And he was right. I was able to leave it behind.

As time wore on, he continued to be an amazing husband. Attentive in daily life, wonderful to our child, and absolutely fantastic in bed.

Nights spent after the baby was sleeping entwined in each other. His cock buried to the hilt in my needy cunt, his mouth on my heavy milky tits. Some nights, id let him take Polaroid photos of me impaled on his cock, or sucking him off, or stroking my tdick as his cum leaked out of me. I never saw where he kept them, but the idea that my body was so important to him he kept photos around made me feel good and loved. I never needed to ask with him, he somehow always knew what I needed, and I was often marked with hickies along my body from him. He said he was claiming every part of me.

A few months into summer, I felt off again. This time I didn't wait, and took a pregnancy test right away. Positive again. We weren't trying explicitly, but we weren't preventing it either, especially not with how I begged him to breed me every night. I told him, and he was overjoyed. I felt like I was in a fairy tale.

We decided to turn his old stuff into a playroom, since the nursery itself was small. I set to work on it in the mornings, while he was making breakfast. It was a lot to take down and move, so it took a while. While emptying his desk to have him move it to storage, I found a little cardboard box. Curious, I opened it up.

At first I thought it was the dirty photos he had taken of me. The idea of him alone in his study, fucking his hand to these photos when working late on a new story made me shiver. But then, under those photos were more. Candid shots of me out with friends, even before the baby. I hadn't gotten out much after the baby came, not like I went much of anywhere after the attack. These photos were old.

Then, the ones from my home. In through the windows while I was changing. My shirtless working in my garden. Me reaching for a gift wrapped bottle of wine.

With shaking hands, I set the box down. My husband, unbeknownst to me, had come up behind me. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, in a way hours ago I would find protective but now felt like a vice grip.

"What's the matter, love?" He asked, as he placed a hand over my womb, once again full of his child. "I told you we were meant to be. That you would look beautiful heavy with my baby for the rest of your life. I know you think so too. Why else would you beg me to breed that fertile, beautiful body of yours again? Just as I said before. If it weren't for that night, we wouldn't have our daughter, or our marriage. I just wish I'd done it sooner."

[erabu-san]

I enjoyed every second of this quest This art has platonic intention, please don't tag ship

[mangostarjam]

breakfast options — haikyuu, miya osamu x f!reader, neighbors au, set a little before the timeskip, just some soft fluffy fluff, 1.4k words

Miya Osamu wakes up to the early dawn light knowing two things.

One: That was the best sleep he's had in months.

Two: This is not his bed.

The sheets are softer — the bed is narrower and pushed up against a wall — and it smells like fresh laundry detergent when Osamu knows for a fact that he hasn't lugged his laundry to the machines downstairs in weeks.

This is not his bed. This isn't even his room or his apartment. The biggest, most obvious clue nuzzles into his chest and sighs.

Osamu's arm tightens around you automatically.

He's so fucked.

Your bare legs are pressed up against his own and you're so soft and warm and relaxed, breathing deeply in sleep, utterly unconcerned about the fact that your neighbor somehow got into your apartment and into your bed with you. Osamu can feel the barest sliver of skin beneath his fingers as your shirt rises and wonders how much his ma will yell at him for messing up this badly with you.

"Mm… 'Samu…?"

He's so fucked.

"Yeah?"

"Why're you awake?"

Osamu can't help the fond huff that escapes his lips and you bury your face further into his chest. He wonders if you can feel the taiko drum beat of his heart in your dreams.

You sniff and your fingers curl into his shirt. "Now I'm awake," you complain quietly, voice muffled in his chest. "Did you need to go to work or something? You seemed so tired last night. Sleep a lil' longer."

"Hey… did I… did I get the wrong door? Last night?" His voice is scratchy, but you don't seem to mind. You shiver a little in his hold and he automatically tugs you closer.

"Hmm…?" It takes a moment as you think through the sleep fog of your mind. Osamu can hear the distant click of your refrigerator humming and the chirp of birds waking up outside.

"You used your spare key and scared the heck out of me," you mumble, shoulders shaking as you snicker at the memory. Osamu wishes he could see your face — well, maybe not. His own cheeks are burning with mortification. "You were like a zombie, Miya-kun."

Something in his stomach swoops with disappointment at the return of honorifics. But — you still haven't untangled yourself from him, and you seem perfectly content to lay here with his arms around you, so maybe — ?

"Sorry 'bout that," he murmurs. "I musta been more wiped than I thought."

"You need to take care of yourself," you scold lightly, finally peeking up at his face. Your eyes widen when they meet his, and for some strange reason you immediately reach up to cover your mouth. Osamu's stomach clenches with hurt. It's not like he was planning on kissing you right now — not after practically breaking into your apartment and commandeering your bed.

And especially not if you don't want him to. Not if you're hiding from him like this.

"Sorry," you mumble. Your gaze feels intentional. Osamu wonders vaguely if he has drool on his cheek. "I don't want you to smell my morning breath."

It's silent for a moment. The two of you breathe in unison as Osamu stares down at you, incredulous, until you break the connection and bury your face in his chest again. "Oy."

"I'm going back to sleep."

That makes him laugh. His body jostles yours and you twist around defensively, nearly dislodging his hold as he clamps his arm back around your waist. "Miya-kun," you mumble. He can hear the pout in your voice, even if he can't see it. "Let's go back to sleep."

"There's no way I'm fallin' back asleep like this," Osamu says.

"What's wrong?"

Nothing's wrong. This is everything he's wanted with you for the past few years, ever since he first saw you go wide eyed over the neighborly bento he held out to you, the delight in your huge grin only growing when you looked up and met his eye.

It's been days and months and years since then, time filled with fond teasing over textbooks, quiet secrets whispered over cups of coffee way too late at night, grocery shopping together and trying out gimmicky snacks that stained your lips blue. You're his neighbor, his friend, his staunch supporter.

His classmate, a few times, when your schedules aligned in university. His coworker, sometimes, when you volunteer yourself to help him with his stall at various events around the city.

But that's it. Or — that was it, until you started getting touchier and clingier and Osamu's hopes spiraled higher and higher.

"'Samu? Did you fall back asleep?"

Osamu presses his face into your hair. He can be weak just this once, right? It's still too early to confess — his business doesn't even have a storefront yet, he hasn't made a name for himself yet — and you deserve someone with all that and more.

"Nah," he says quietly, "I'm up."

"Don't get any ideas," you mumble sleepily. "I haven't had a man in my bed in years, so if I punch you later it's 'cause I forgot about last night."

This shouldn't make him so happy. He hides his smile in your hair. He's been so busy lately it's been hard trying to figure out if you've had anyone over, though your apartment has always only shown signs of one occupant. He didn't want to assume.

"Why didn't ya kick me out?"

"That'd be cruel and unusual," you scoff. Your fingers curl over his forearm before sliding to his hand. Osamu's breath catches for just a second as you begin playing with his fingers, seemingly oblivious to how the temperature beneath the blankets has ratcheted up several degrees.

"You can kick me out now, ya know," Osamu offers half heartedly. At least he can safely tell his ma that he tried.

You bring his hand up to your lips and his heart just about stops. Softly — so softly — you press a kiss to his palm and then his wrist, featherlight touches that have every nerve ending standing at attention. Osamu shifts his hips away guiltily, resisting the urge to press up into you, heart slamming back into rhythm at full force.

"You'd leave without having breakfast first?"

"You'd let me make ya breakfast?"

You bite the tip of his finger and he bites back a groan. "Do you always make your girls breakfast the morning after?"

Osamu frowns. He wants to see your face. "There's never been a girl or a morning after."

"Oh." You hum thoughtfully, pressing his fingertip to your lips, entirely unaware of the silent battle Osamu is waging against his own body behind you. "So I'll be the first?"

"You're the only one it's ever gonna be."

Stupid. Osamu can practically hear his twin yelling at him to just confess already.

He can feel the curve of your smile against his palm as you press another featherlight kiss there. "I'll keep waiting, then," you say quietly, voice muffled against his skin.

You shift and turn back to face him, putting a few precious inches between your bodies as you blink up at him in the slowly brightening light. Osamu can't help staring, memorizing the gentle curve of your smile and the softness in your sleepy gaze. His heart feels like it's threatening to burst out of his chest, joy expanding like bubbles in his ribcage.

"What d'ya want for breakfast?"

Your smile grows crooked.

"I want an omelet this time."

Osamu can feel his own lips tugging up in the corners. "And next time?"

"Hmm. How about a breakfast onigiri?"

A laugh escapes his lips and his grin only grows wider with your answering giggle. "I can do that for ya."

"What about a kiss?"

Your eyes are sparkling in the light and he — he wants to say "yes" — but then your expression falls and you hold up a hand suddenly. "Wait, I take that back," you explain quickly, "I need to brush my teeth first."

Osamu laughs. He tugs you closer, an arm heavy around your waist, anchoring you back into him even as you whine. "You're gonna hafta get used to this," he points out smugly.

You slap your hands over your mouth and glare halfheartedly at him. "No way."

"It's alright, darlin'," he says. You blink as his gaze steadies on yours. Osamu wonders if you have any idea that you look at him like this — like he's special, and deserving, and like you trust him with everything. He's tried for months now to pretend he doesn't see it, scared to get his hopes up too high, but now?

Now he hopes you'll always look at him like this. "I won't make you wait much longer."

[courfee]

it's been exactly a year since the last chapter of Operation Walburga's Arbitrary No Kissing Ever Rule and I still miss it. This scene is probably one of my favourite things I've ever written and I've wanted to draw it for forever, so now seemed like an appropriate time