#it doesn't really matter how you feel about what they do

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

Thinking about PHAINON’S cock being almost 7 inches, though its long enough for the head of his cock to reach your cervix. He definitely has the prettiest cock out of all of men. Its really pale and has a—lot of veins around it. Phainon is literally the best at fucking—you with his cock. His cock was just so pleasurable. A faint dusting of pale hair sits above the base of his cock, neatly trimmed and well-kept, adding to his effortless appeal. It's soft to the touch, smooth against your skin, just like everything about him—controlled, refined, and devastatingly perfect.

And then there's the way he fucks you. Not just with skill, but with purpose. Like he knows exactly how deep he needs to be, how slow or rough to take you apart. His cock stretches you in a way that borders on overwhelming, the thick veins pressing into your walls, the head of it brushing your cervix with every deliberate thrust. It's not just pleasure—it's possession, the way he claims every inch of you without a single word.

His breaths are heavy, low grunts escaping his lips when he feels you tighten around him. He watches you, eyes sharp, taking in the way you shudder, the way your body reacts to him alone. He knows no one else could fuck you like this, no one else could ruin you in a way that still feels so reverent. It's not just about taking—it's about making sure you know he's the only one who ever could.

Thinking about MYDEI’S cock It's the biggest one-thick, heavy, and a full nine inches of sheer, overwhelming size. There's nothing refined about it, nothing delicate. Just raw power, veined and flushed, built to stretch and ruin. His cock sits heavy between his legs, a perfect reflection of him—unapologetic, dominant, untamed. His pubic hair is just as unruly, untouched, dark curls framing his length. He doesn't shave, doesn't brush it down, because why would he? He's not the type to care about pretty appearances. He's the type to take, to claim, to make sure you remember exactly what it feels like to be fucked by him.

And when he's inside you gods, it's too much. The stretch is instant, a sharp, unbearable fullness that has you gasping before he even moves. He knows it, too. He watches the way your body struggles to take him, the way you twitch and tighten, barely able to handle his size. It's intoxicating to him, the way you clench around him like you were made for him, like no one else could ever compare.

His pace is merciless, rough and deep, slamming into you until all you can do is take it. Every thrust forces his cock against your cervix, dragging a mixture of pain and pleasure so intense it leaves you trembling. He doesn't stop-he never stops until you're shaking, until you're completely lost in him, until he's sure you'll never forget that he was here, that he's the only one who could ever fuck you like this. Because Mydei doesn't just want to pleasure you. He wants to own you.

Thinking about ANAXA’S cock It's not the biggest, not the thickest, but gods, does he know how to use it. Five inches of pure, aching need, pale and flushed at the tip, standing proudly against his smooth skin. There's no pubic hair—whether it's natural or something he takes care of, it's impossible to tell, but it only adds to the softness of him. He looks almost delicate like this, like something meant to be worshiped. But that's the trick, isn't it? Anaxa isn't just delicate. He's dangerous in the way he holds himself back, in the way his soft-spoken nature masks something deeper, something utterly consuming.

Because when he's inside you, it doesn't matter that he's not the biggest. He makes it feel like he is. He fucks like he has something to prove-slow at first, teasing, watching your every reaction like he's memorizing the way you fall apart for him. Then he picks up, hips snapping forward, angling himself just right so every thrust hits exactly where you need it. He's precise, controlled, relentless in his focus on your pleasure.

His breath hitches when he feels you clench around him, his hands tightening on your hips, keeping you in place. There's something desperate in the way he moves, like he needs you to understand that size never mattered-only this, only him, only the way he can make you shake with nothing but his cock and the sheer intensity of his devotion. Because Anaxa doesn't fuck to claim. He fucks to worship.

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[fatal-blow]

hmm i wanna make a proper post about practicing relaxation. lets go

So for some reason, you can't fucking relax

Chronic muscle tension is really, really common, but few people know how to combat it. In that same vein, relaxing the muscles does not come naturally to everyone, and for some it's a skill that must be practiced.

Firstly, the inability to relax is tied to a few things. Obviously trauma, stress, anxiety, and other neurodivergencies contribute a great deal to chronic muscle tension. What most people don't realize, is that chronic tension can also result from an unbalanced body. In particular, it's a major symptom of Morton's Foot Syndrome/Neander foot, which has a HUGE comorbidity with neurodivergency (particularly ADHD/Autism). I've made plenty of posts about it on the ol' blog that y'all can check out, and searching "Morton's Foot Syndrome" (it's frequently confused with Morton's neuroma) will also bring up information.

Secondly, chronic muscle tension also causes just about every symptom under the sun. All those symptoms related to stress, the tension headaches and the stomachaches and the muscle weakness etc? Most of these are a direct result of the physical strain of muscle tension, not some abstract symptom of being mentally overwhelmed.

So how do you know you have chronic muscle tension?

Experiencing the physical and mental symptoms of anxiety pretty much guarantees you have chronic muscle tension. These symptoms feed into each other--it doesn't matter whether the tension began in your head or in the rest of the body, both will be affected in the end. Chronic pain is another sign of muscle tension, but of course not everyone has the same sensitivity or conceptualization of pain.

The most objective way to tell is to simply give your muscles a squeeze. Try around your calves and ankles, your arms, your stomach. Yes, even if you're fat. A proper, relaxed body will be so squishy that you could feel down to the bone, and move the muscles and tendons around with little discomfort. For thinner people, a relaxed muscle will jiggle like fat.

Meanwhile, a tense muscle will have little to no squish, like squeezing a bouncy ball. You may struggle to press deep into the muscle at all. To differentiate from bone, know that bone will have absolutely zero give; compare the hardness of your shin bone to the muscles of the rest of the calf. You should be able to apply pressure ANYWHERE on your body with no pain or discomfort.

Another more objective sign of chronic muscle tension is the inability to sit or lay down comfortably. Constantly changing positions, fidgetiness, or restlessness all point to muscle tension, often because a position rests on or pulls on a tight muscle. The way you sit is a telltale sign of what muscles are too tight: for example, sliding your butt down your chair is a sign of tight hamstring muscles.

How do you unlearn chronic tension?

It's not easy. First, I urge anyone reading this to look into Morton's Foot Syndrome and treat it. This syndrome is extremely common (on my end, pretty much all of my friends, family, and several people who follow this blog have realized they have it!). The reason Morton's Foot causes chronic tension is due to the instability of the foot--in order to prevent the body from toppling over like a tower with a poor foundation, the muscles in the body overwork themselves. Getting the right insoles (insoles sold at the store will not address the problem) will improve your stability, making it easier and less exhausting to stand and walk.

Treatment will only stick once Morton's Foot is addressed! If you feel like all your stretching and exercises aren't cutting it, please PLEASE look into this!!!

Okay, now that I've said my piece of MFS, here are a few things that you can try to help learn how to relax.

Tense and Release. Pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Practice tensing and releasing different muscles while paying attention to the difference in how each feels. It's a good first step to building an understanding with your body. You can easily find videos that guide through these sorts of exercises.

Pay attention to your habits. Strained or unusual posture is a direct result of chronic tension. Think about when you keep your hand in a fist too long, and when you finally uncurl it all your fingers aches. ALL the muscles in your body are like this, but unlike your hands you might avoid stretching those muscles afterwards, because stretching overtight muscles can be unpleasant! Over time, the tension will build up in the form of triggerpoints, which functionally shorten the muscle and cause even more problems down the road.

Stretching and massage. Stretches should target overworked muscles, but massage is necessary to get the full benefits of stretching. If you stretch and feel a pain, you can try to find that pain using the triggerpoint guide in my pinned post--massage that spot indicated in the guide, the stretch will become easier. I'll make a formal post about stretching eventually, but in the meantime I discuss proper stretching technique here.

Stay warm! Heat makes muscles more fluid and easier to stretch. Cold will increase tension, but it also numbs pain, which is useful for sudden cramps or seizing of the muscle.

Practice belly breathing. When you pull in a breath, make sure it's your stomach that moves, not the chest. Chest breathing activates neck muscles known as scalenes--when these muscles are tense, they can cause numbness, tingling, and pain in the hands and arms. Belly breathing is often easier to do while lying down than it is while standing up--mastering it in both situations will make a difference.

Learn to trust your body. Chronic tension means you're fighting your own body. When you begin relaxation exercises, they might feel scary, maybe even giving you the sensation of falling. Whenever I do relaxation exercises, I have so much tension in my own body that the release will cause a jerk or a spasm--but I have to concentrate and allow my body do this instead of instinctively trying to stop it. I always feel better afterwards, but it was disconcerting when I first started. The body generally knows where everything is supposed to go, and learning when to give up the reins to it can give you new insights into what will help you feel better.

Be careful about painkillers. Everyone loves their ibuprofen and acetaminophen, but understand that the pain you feel is very real. If you take a painkiller and then put your body to work, your ability to judge how much damage is happening is hampered. That muscle you're holding tense for three hours straight may not hurt, but it doesn't change the fact that it's accumulating tension. Be extra gentle with your body on painkillers.

And that should cover it. If anything sounds strange or doesn't make sense, I'm always happy to elaborate and answer questions! Go onwards and try to feel a little bit better today.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello!! I hope you're doing well! Do you have any recs for books about twisted/problematic relationships but with woc? Obviously there's our queen octavia butler but unfortunately for me i've finished reading all her books so i'm desperately craving for books that scratch this itch. Thank you for this blog btw i really love reading all your thoughts & reviews ♥️

goddd okay this list is not going to be nearly as long as I wish it was but it is extreeeeemely varied, so at least we have that going for us lmao. and hopefully you find something interesting in here:

right out of the gate if you're chasing that Octavia high, Rivers Solomon's novel Sorrowland feels very very in that vein. it starts with a teenage girl escaping from a Black separatist fundie cult while heavily pregnant with the cult leader's twins, deciding to give birth to the babies in the woods and raise them there. and boy, does it get crazier from there! there are some eventual transformative body horror sci-fi elements that I shan't spoil, but it's a time. the relationships are pretty secondary and genuinely not the most fucked up thing here, but our main girlie Vern is very much into girls and trying to figure that out on top of all the other horrors.

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms is the first book in a fantasy trilogy by specfic queen NK Jemisin, and the first book in particular is really like. problematic relationship city. the protagonist is called to be an heir to a dying emperor and IMMEDIATELY gets embroiled in a love triangle with two of the gods that her family enslaves for power??? crazy shit.

I just kicked off this year reading a book called Darknesses by Lachelle Seville, which ALSO features a young Black woman fresh out of a cult (this one loves self harm and anorexia). and then she meets another Black girl who casually drops that she's Dracula, and oh boy do things get weirder from there. this book is like kind of Not Good but it is very entertaining; at a certain point you just have to turn off your brain and go with the vibes. it's sweeter than a lot of examples but listen, obsession and bloodlust are obsession and bloodust no matter how much your gf Dracula respects consent. there's a lot of murder!

this one doesn't have any supernatural bullshit afoot and is instead just regular degular #problematic, but Raven Leilani's Luster was one of my favorite books last year and follows an absolute shitshow of a young Black woman's extremely loaded and weird relationship with her older white boyfriend and his insane wife, as well as their adopted Black daughter.

anther no magic entry: I really love Oyinkan Braithwaite's My Sister, The Serial Killer, which is about exactly what you think it's about! the narrator is a put-upon Nigerian woman whose beautiful, beloved sister has murdered her last several boyfriends and has come crying to her dutiful sister to help her clean it up each time; the plot kicks in when the murdery sister sets her sights on the narrator's boss, a doctor to whom the narrator is also attracted. I know it's a sibling relationship instead of a romantic one but you didn't specify so! I am counting it!

this one is like very very very niceys compared to everything else I'm going to put on this list but it's also pretty hot so I have to mention it: Little Rabbit by Alyssa Songsiridej is about a young, bisexual Asian-American woman struggling to get a writing career off the ground falling in love with a Notably Older and wealthier white man and figuring out how to navigate the subsequent problems both within their own interpersonal dynamic and in how their relationship is received by others.

honorary mentions: books about fucked up white women that are written by women of color who Know!!

Under the Pendulum Sun by Jeannette Ng is a Victorian alternate history in which the English discovered the fairy realm and promptly did what the English did, ie, sending missionaries to teach the fairies about Jesus. the novel follows a woman traveling to the fairy kingdom to look for her missing missionary brother and promptly going insane as fairies gaslight gatekeep girlboss from all sides, complete with a side of everyone's favorite gothic horror trope: repressed sibling incest!

My Nemesis by Charmaine Craig is another very lowkey and grounded example, comparatively, but I thought it was neat and worth a mention! it's told from the POV of truly insufferable white woman writer whose emotional affair with a philosopher gets thrown for a fucking loop by the philosopher's wife, an enigmatic Chinese woman whose motivation the MC cannot guess literally at all. it's not the most exciting read in the world but the reveals hit hard and the reveals at the end made me YELL.

also for short story collections by WOC that can bring the #yikes factor in big ways I heartily endorse Roxane Gay's Difficult Women and Carmen Maria Machado's Her Body and Other Parties.

I wish I had more to throw you here; please if anyone has something to add to this list I am LISTENING

[princesssmars]

sooooo....sub!vi and sub!reader tribbing.

nsfw. fem!reader. lesbian sex. tribbing ofc. inspired by one of the first nsfwtwt accounts i encountered 5 years ago...ill never forget you </3 wc: 905.

at first glance, every woman vi approached thought she was a dom. in a way she could understand it, she was muscular and tall and had every other stereotypical dominant top butch feature that had femmes falling at her feet begging for a chance for her to strap them until they saw stars.

while she was always flattered, there was an uneasy feeling whenever she was commanding a girl in bed, a nagging in the back of her head that she just couldn't shake. she figured it was just her brain catching up to the fact that she had become incredibly desirable to so many people so quickly, that after a few more girls in her bed, she’d settle into a good rhythm

until she met you.

after a few shared drinks at her favorite bar and a sloppy make out in the back of a taxi, she’s got your pretty form pushed down onto her bed, sheets ruffled and both of your jackets thrown to the ground as your form writhes beneath her, your body so, so pliant for her. but that nagging feeling is coming back with a vengeance, and before she can stop herself she’s pulling off of your body with a groan and flopping into her pillows face first.

she muffles a somber apology, words barely legible through the soft fabric, telling you that she’ll pay for your uber home and that she is really sorry for getting your hopes up. she expects to hear you scoff and get up with a huff, to hear the rustling of you putting on your clothes before the slam of her door. but instead, it's quiet, the only sound reverberating through the room is your shared heavy breathing and the faint sound of crickets in the night.

she slightly jerks when she feels your hand graze her shoulder, so incredibly gentle as you tug on her so she turns onto her back, eyes locking onto yours. your face is…calm, understanding almost.

“is everything okay? do you want to just…talk about it?”

and maybe it's your delicate look and touch, the tone of your voice, and genuine inquiry about what she’s truly feeling instead of being mad at your ruined night, but she lets every little bottled-up emotion that's been building up for the past few weeks go.

and you understand her problem completely.

“im sorry you felt like you had to hold all of that in. if you want,I know a few ways we could help with your problem.”

her eyes widened and face flushed at the prospect. “you mean that you - you would?”

“wish I could, but i’ve never been very good at it. but there are other things we could do. together.”

and it's in moments like these, where after a long day of work she gets to come home, relax, and lose herself in pleasure with you in front of her, that she’s so grateful you helped her find this part of herself.

there isn't an inch of space between you, your shared borderline possessive embraces and the tightly connected collars around both of your necks ensuring so. she doesn't even want to (or can, at this point) think about how desperate she must have looked when you raised the surprise up to her gaze earlier, how she had shown no hesitation in attaching it around her neck before dragging you to your shared bed to get her hands on you and yours on her.

she’s brought out of her thoughts when a punctured cry is torn from her throat, the friction of your clits brushing and grinding together sending a burst of sharp pleasure up from her cunt into the rest of her body. it amplifies the heat already surrounding the both of you, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies from the strain of rubbing against each other for…for who knows how long at this point.

but it doesn't matter, she’d risk the chance of passing out if it meant she got to feel like this for even a few more seconds.

neither of you can speak, only shrill whimpers and endless moans bouncing off of the walls. luckily you seem to have maybe a few more brain cells active at the moment, aware of the impending fifth noise complaint, taking initiative, and pushing your heads together to lock your lips in a sloppy kiss.

and god, everything is just too much. the friction of your slick cunts meeting in a rabid frenzy, both of your hands scratching at each other backs and breasts, and the mushing of your tongues leading to drool dripping down your faces only catapults her into a mind-breaking orgasm, back arching and arms holding your body even closer to hers as she feels you both gush against each other.

and once your highs finally die down, you both take care of each other. the collars are taken off, and giggles are shared when you both stand up to wobbly legs to clean each other up in the bathroom. and it's in moments like these, where you're sitting across from each other in the tub, rubbing fruity-smelling suds over each other's bodies and sharking sweet kisses and praises, that she really, really loves being a sub.

[meeedeee]

Calling Your Congresspersons

Not my post but please feel free to copy and paste to share with others

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

FOR THOSE OF YOU LOOKING TO TURN YOUR ANGER INTO ACTION, here's some advice from a high-level staffer for a Senator. Re-posting from a friend of mine:

There are two things that we should be doing all the time right now, and they're by far the most important things.

You should NOT be bothering with online petitions or emailing.

1) The best thing you can do to be heard and get your congressperson to pay attention is to have face-to-face time — if they have town halls, go to them. Go to their local offices. If you're in DC, try to find a way to go to an event of theirs. Go to the "mobile offices" that their staff hold periodically (all these times are located on each congressperson's website). When you go, ask questions. A lot of them. And push for answers. The louder and more vocal and present you can be at those the better.

2) But those in-person events don't happen every day. So, the absolute most important thing that people should be doing every day is calling.

YOU SHOULD MAKE 6 CALLS A DAY:

2 each (DC office and your local office) to your 2 Senators & your 1 Representative.

The staffer was very clear that any sort of online contact basically gets immediately ignored, and letters pretty much get thrown in the trash (unless you have a particularly strong emotional story — but even then it's not worth the time it took you to craft that letter).

Calls are what all the congresspeople pay attention to. Every single day, the Senior Staff and the Senator get a report of the 3 most-called-about topics for that day at each of their offices (in DC and local offices), and exactly how many people said what about each of those topics. They're also sorted by zip code and area code. She said that Republican callers generally outnumber Democrat callers 4-1, and when it's a particular issue that single-issue-voters pay attention to (like gun control, or planned parenthood funding, etc...), it's often closer to 11-1, and that's recently pushed Republican congressmen on the fence to vote with the Republicans. In the last 8 years, Republicans have called, and Democrats haven't.

So, when you call:

A) When calling the DC office, ask for the Staff member in charge of whatever you're calling about ("Hi, I'd like to speak with the staffer in charge of Healthcare, please") — local offices won't always have specific ones, but they might. If you get transferred to that person, awesome. If you don't, that's ok — ask for that person's name, and then just keep talking to whoever answered the phone. Don't leave a message (unless the office doesn't pick up at all — then you can — but it's better to talk to the staffer who first answered than leave a message for the specific staffer in charge of your topic).

B) Give them your zip code. They won't always ask for it, but make sure you give it to them, so they can mark it down. Extra points if you live in a zip code that traditionally votes for them, since they'll want to make sure they get/keep your vote.

C) If you can make it personal, make it personal. "I voted for you in the last election and I'm worried/happy/whatever" or "I'm a teacher, and I am appalled by Betsy DeVos," or "as a single mother" or "as a white, middle class woman," or whatever.

D) Pick 1-2 specific things per day to focus on. Don't rattle off everything you're concerned about — they're figuring out what 1-2 topics to mark you down for on their lists. So, focus on 1-2 per day. Ideally something that will be voted on/taken up in the next few days, but it doesn't really matter — even if there's not a vote coming up in the next week, call anyway. It's important that they just keep getting calls.

E) Be clear on what you want — "I'm disappointed that the Senator..." or "I want to thank the Senator for their vote on... " or "I want the Senator to know that voting in _____ way is the wrong decision for our state because... " Don't leave any ambiguity.

F) They may get to know your voice/get sick of you — it doesn't matter. The people answering the phones generally turn over every 6 weeks anyway, so even if they're really sick of you, they'll be gone in 6 weeks.

From experience since the election: If you hate being on the phone & feel awkward (which is a lot of people) don't worry about it — there are a bunch of scripts (Indivisible.org has some, there are lots of others floating around these day). After a few days of calling, it starts to feel a lot more natural.

Put the 6 numbers in your phone (all under P – Politician.) An example is McCaskill MO, Politician McCaskill DC, Politician Blunt MO, etc., which makes it really easy to click down the list each day.

**If you want to share this, please copy and paste so it goes beyond our mutual friends.**

I have added the following websites:

1. Find your federal and state legislators: Use reps.fyi (directs you to https://www.commoncause.org/find-your-representative/ )

2. Use scripts from 5Calls.org

3. Use scripts from the Americans of Conscience Checklist (updates every 2 weeks) https://americansofconscience.com/checklist/

4. Join a local or virtual group at https://indivisible.org/

[dchuntress]

Subject: Re: Extension Request

Hi Madi,

I had your sister in my class two years ago. Samantha O'Reilly was sharp, determined, and never backed down when she knew she was right. She believed in Gotham and its ability to get better in a way that, frankly, inspired me. I remember helping her with her essay for college applications, and I knew then if anybody was going to revolutionize Gotham's healthcare, it was her.

It hurts to hear that she's gone missing. But I do not believe that Scarecrow has the power to change her, to take away who she really is. She may be manipulated, she may be roped into his schemes, but she isn't lost, my dear. She is in trouble. And those are not the same thing.

She needs us to believe in her more than ever. And I need you to have faith in yourself, too.

Take the extension. Take all the time you need to cope and focus. If doing schoolwork gives you something steady to hold onto, then do what you need to do. But by no means think that you need to prove something by burning yourself out, Madi. You are brilliant and dedicated, and you don't need me or my opinions to know that. Your well-being comes first.

If Scarecrow is recruiting, then he is expanding, and I need you and your family to stay far away from his radar at all times. Keep your routines unpredictable and your location private. Stay with people you trust and be wary of anybody new who take an interest in you. If anything ever feels off — strangers watching you, cryptic messages, odd delivers, friends going missing — let me know immediately.

Scarecrow preys on fear, but he cannot really destroy you, Sam, or anybody else in this city. Not in a way that matters, as long as we remain steadfast even in our nightmares and our uncertainty. I understand how helpless this feels, and I don't have the right to tell you not to feel that way. The trajectory of your lives may have changed irreversibly, and things might not be the same.

But what I will tell you is that the love you have for Samantha is far more powerful than whatever Scarecrow throws in her way. Don't give up on your sister, Madi.

And do not, even for one second, think you are alone in this: you are not. Sam has people looking out for her, you have people looking out for you. You have me in your corner, by your side, always.

So, do not hesitate to reach out for anything. I mean that, Madison. Take care of yourself.

All my love,

Helena

Huntress doesn't care that that by now Scarecrow is intimately familiar with what makes her tick, what makes her crack, what makes her falter. She doesn't care how fortified his lair is; numerous lackeys ready to launch into bloodshed in an instant, the air reeking with gases and chemicals threatening to send Huntress spiralling down, breaking down, hesitating. She doesn't hesitate. Helena's spent weeks tearing through Scarecrow's operations — destroying labs, cutting off supply chains, thinking she was making a dent. And still, here they are. Another name added to the list of Gotham's stolen, neglected, forgotten. Another bright mind warped into something ugly. All that Huntress cares about right now is getting Sam out of there and back home in one piece, alive and breathing. She doesn't care if Madison's sister is already brainwashed beyond recognition, if she might resist at every step of the way out. That's a problem for later — for Oracle, for Batman, for Zatanna, for anybody to undo. Huntress' job is extraction. Making sure there's someone still left to save. Huntress doesn't care how deep into the darkness Scarecrow has dragged Samantha. She's pulling her out.

—

Subject: Re: Interview With The CatWoman

Hi Ananya,

Well, of course, you would be the one to track down Catwoman and persuade her to do an interview. I'm not all surprised, and I am perhaps a teensy tiny bit impressed.

I must admit, this is not what I was expecting. And I do hope you're staying safe, young lady, I'm not thrilled that you got that close to such a volatile situation. But I understand how these things unfold.

That being said, you showed great initiative and quick thinking. You saw someone who made a real, tangible impact on your surroundings, and you found an unconventional yet necessary perspective into your work. That is the heart of analysis and good storytelling.

No signature? No problem. I'm obviously not going to ask you to chase down her just for an autograph and risk getting clawed. And let's be honest, Ms Catwoman doesn't strike me as someone who enjoys leaving paper trail behind. Some people let their actions speak for them.

And that’s the thing, isn't it? The point of this assignment isn't to necessarily scout out a well-known superhero, but to find someone who makes a difference, someone who helps out. You don't need a badge, a title, or anybody's permission to do the right thing — you just do it.

Your interview was solid, and I’ve given you a good grade. Take a look at my feedback in the attached scan when you get the chance, though — there are a few areas that could use some refining. You’ve got a great story here, kid. Let’s make sure it's told right.

Nice work. Stay safe.

Best,

Miss Bertinelli

[ Attachment: I_Interview_Catwoman_scan.pdf ]

The fire escape isn't the most comfortable perch, but it gives her a decent vantage point. And it's a good enough spot to read Ananya's work thoroughly, annotate, and get a glimpse of a side of Selina Kyle that Huntress doesn't see much. The side that steps in, the side that doesn't let drug dealers get away with thinking they can take advantage of young minds, the side that answers a bubbly, young teenager's questions with warmth, charisma, and a signature flair that's uniquely, intriguingly hers. The side that gives a damn. Catwoman is nothing less of a wild card, but Selina has a good head on her shoulders — draws lines that she doesn't like to see get crossed. The Cat always lands on her feet, and tonight, Huntress wonders if she'll land on the right side. If she'll give another damn and show up. Catwoman isn't anybody's idea of a hero in the traditional sense. But again, neither is Huntress. Selina knows the darkness that prevails on the broken, vulnerable streets of this city; all-consuming and never forgiving. Helena knows that darkness too. The kind of darkness that chews up and spits out anybody into a hollow husk of their selves. The kind of darkness they both refuse to be caged by any longer. The kind of darkness they won't let engulf innocent kids anymore. Huntress hopes—prays for Sam's sake that Selina will hear her out. And extend that listening ear to Pamela, whose brilliance rivals that of Crane's. His brainwashing isn't impossible to tackle, but it spreads rapidly throughout the nervous system. Ivy might know how to reign those in before it's too late. And Catwoman might be able to convince her to step in. And maybe — just maybe, if Helena's prayers are heard, Selina might just know the darkness well enough to predict where Gotham's missing kids go when the rest of the city falls asleep. It's a long shot. But long shots are all Huntress has.

—

Subject: Re: pokodot man stole my shirts and i have nothing to wear for the trip :(

Hi Ken,

Are you and your mom safe? That's my main concern.

That being said — seriously, Ken? Polka-dot shirts?

I'll be honest, this is a first, even for Gotham. This city truly never runs out of weird. I have no issue excusing the class trip, but I will need more details before I write "Absence due to polka-dot-related crimes" in the attendance log. Please ask your mother to call me when she has a moment and we'll sort it out.

Best,

Miss Bertinelli

Seriously, the Polka-Dot Man? Scrounging the local laundromat and looting some kid's shirts that won't even fit him? The mental image alone should've made her laugh. Gotham's walking eyesore, some washed-up D-list villain, shifting through other people's laundry baskets — and possibly the bargain bins at joke shops for a suit upgrade. But Huntress didn't. Not a lot of jokes were really that funny in Gotham. They tended to die and rot out in your mouth before you could spit them out. There was the simple set-up:

Some ridiculously, mind-numbingly, garnish gimmicks and corny costumes that'd even make a two-year-old roll their eyes. And then there was the punchline:

The bloodbath that spilled all over for rogues to lap, the homes that were left in ruins. Or a laundromat, in this case. A flick of Abner’s wrist sent a cluster of neon dots whirling through the air, and Huntress barely dodged in time — one of them piercing straight into a dryer, causing it to blow up on impact. The polka dots weren't really just a bad fashion statement. They were weaponised — hot, colourful, searing disks flung at her with deadly precision, sizzling against the concrete like dying stars when they missed. The next one sliced through her thigh, drawing blood with a burning tenacity. Yeah, she wasn't laughing. And Huntress didn't think for even one second that Abner Krill was just dillydallying at laundromats, but she wasn't going to stroke his ego either. "The Suicide Squad kick you to the curb or something?" She taunted, as she dodged a buzzsaw dot and rolled behind a vending machine. "Didn't think you were shaking down dryers for spare quarters now!" A beat of silence after that — the dots have come to a halt. A pause long enough for her to peek out. For him to give her a smile. "You think this is about the laundry, Huntress?" Abner stood there, casually twirling a glowing dot between his fingers. "You think this is all I'm doing? You don't think I'm capable of anything greater?" Abner laughed a loud, joyless laugh. "You're just like my mom, Huntress." "Gross, dude," Helena shot back, swiftly placing a bolt in her crossbow. "Why? Mothers are like bridges, you know..." His smile broadened, but never reached his eyes. "People trust them without question." His smile fell. He flicked his wrist — And she fired, and — The dot and the bolt met in a thunderous crash. In the back of her head, she wondered if his quip was just some dumb, random, stupid inside joke she wasn't supposed to get, and — Huntress really wished she didn't.

—

Subject: Re: ...

Hello Malik,

I need you to listen to me very carefully. Thank you for trusting me. I know this is a scary situation to be in, but you did the right thing by letting me know.

I want you and your dad to stay safe. If you have family somewhere else, consider staying with them for a while. Otherwise, I can send you a list of trustworthy places you'll be safe — shelters, community centers, mosques.

Be selective in whom you trust at this time. Trust your judgement. Keep your head down, avoid drawing attention, and if you notice anything suspicious, don’t try to check it out on your own. Just leave, get somewhere safe, and call for help. You're doing the best you can already.

And listen, kid — whenever you feel like you’re out of options, whenever you want to shout into the void, whenever you think no one's listening? I'm here to hear you. You can always tell me anything. Everything you say will stay between us. If you're worried about your dad knowing, I won't say a word to him.

I'm very sorry the police aren't taking this seriously. But I believe you, Malik. And I know some people who will believe you too. We will figure something out together.

We will keep our city safe. And that starts by keeping ourselves safe.

Okay?

Stay in touch.

With love and prayers,

Miss Bertinelli

Her heart aches. God. Good God, why — why is she the only adult that Malik can trust? That's — that's not right! Malik doesn't know that his teacher wields a weapon uglier than a pen. Malik doesn't know that her face is slick with blood — blood that's not hers. Malik doesn't know the ugly things she does in the nighttime to secure a brighter morning for other people. But Malik has faith. He trusts that Miss Bertinelli with that information, he trusts her — a schoolteacher — to do something about a citywide threat. This isn't a fight she can win on her own. So, mirroring that trust, she casts the net wide, spreading his warning like wildfire and hoping it reaches the right people — enough people. Oracle's Birds, the Bat's brats, the few independents that don't answer to Batman, and hell, even a handful of rogues that hate Joker more than they hate Huntress. Anybody outside of Gotham willing to cross the distance just to get their punches in. Some of her allies are still en-route, others have already started petty brawls in proximity, few are monitoring the area, some are waiting for the right moment to strike. But her gaze is locked on the bridge: it's still in one place. Blood rings in her head and burns in her eyes. The bridge isn’t just that — it's a crucial artery of Gotham. One wrong move, one wrong incision, and — And it won’t just fall. It’ll crush. Families. Homes. Futures. A graveyard that symbolises their failure to protect Gotham's innocent, effectively punishing these people for not being able to afford to live elsewhere. That caked-faced bastard picked his target well. Damn him, damn him, damn— Tears sting her eyes. She doesn't know if she can do this. She doesn't know if her allies of the night can save the day in time. She doesn't know if the bridge will stay intact. She doesn't know if they'll prevent casualties. She doesn't know how it ends tonight, and what happens tomorrow. (But Huntress has faith.) Something cold and solid brushes against her boot, snaps her out. She looks down and picks it up. A crowbar. Her grip tightens. The last time one of these was in the wrong hand, a young child died screaming. As if life means nothing. He took an innocent life — as he always did, destroying lives beyond repair, beyond redemption, beyond reprieve. (Never again.) And tonight, he has set out to claim thousands of lives, millions more in collateral damage. But that won't happen. No. No more families torn apart. No more children left in despair. No more bodies will be piled up at his feet. Because it won't be the damn bridge that falls.

(Never again.) Because Huntress has faith. She touches the cross at her throat, and remembers she is here. (NEVER AGAIN.) She brings the crowbar down — breaking the metal and a lackey's bone simultaneously. Reloads her crossbow. Marches ahead. Beside her, movement. More figures joining the fight. Allies, reluctant or otherwise. Capes, good and bad alike, drawn to this fight like vultures, like wolves, like something holy. She doesn't stop to look back. "Let's finish this."

—

Subject: Re: Library Suggestions

Hi Eden,

You're smart to trust your gut. If something smells fishy, it's probably not for no reason.

Here are some safer options:

• Hemingway Community Library: Well-lit, quiet, good security. It's run by the volunteers in the neighborhood, so the staff actually care.

• Eastpoint Library: This one's near your aunt's workplace. Might make pickups easier. Oh, and Sol Azteca is close by — you two should stop there for the carnitas tacos. Best in Gotham.

• Gotham City Public Library: Not super close, but it’s just one bus stop away. A friend of mine works there, Dr Gordon. She’s nicer than she looks — if you need anything, you can always approach her.

• The Woolf & Austen Bookshop: My personal pick? This bookstore on 5th and Wilburn. Good coffee, quiet atmosphere. I drop by there a lot. A little farther out from the school, but it's near my apartment. I don't do any grading here, I promise.

• If none of those work for you, let me know. I’ll help you figure something out.

And don't apologize for reaching out. You deserve safe spaces. Always.

Take care,

Miss B

Huntress follows her own gut, too. She steps into the library and immediately smells it: Not old books, not dust, not coffee — chemical rot, dense in the air. It’s a lab. A drug operation. Of fucking course. The same bastards who occupied Miriam's apartment basement have moved their operations here. The same ones Selina stopped from selling drugs to kids. Gotham’s rogues aren’t criminal masterminds. They’re roaches. The kind that refuse to die, that scurry to a new corner when the light exposes them. The kind that don’t learn their lesson until their heads have been shoved into a bookshelf hard enough to make them beg for a third chance. Unfortunately — or otherwise — Miss B doesn't know how to quit either.

one of helena bertinelli's students emailing her at 12:59 am asking if it's too late to submit their assignment now since their house got burned down due to gotham incidents:

helena bertinelli responding at 1:07 am after grading their work and reassuring them it's fine even though she's literally yet to take care of the third degree burns on top of 500 other fatal injuries she just got from her other job:

[archangeldyke-all]

Angel… hear me out…

butch babies already has 4 drabbles, just one more to get an emoji and be officially a series soooo… what do we (you) think about writing about one of them being jealous maybe bc of insecurities (like idk someone was flirting with sev and reader started feeling insecure bc she is like complete opposite of this other girl), OR maybe they got on a stupid argument and they both are so dumb and stubborn that they don’t know how to solve shit (they are teenagers after all) so they try and make a move to solve everything like organizing something in their hideout but they end up planing the exact same thing JSMDMDKD. OR how would be their first time together (i kinda picture sev waiting for an adequate moment and trying to make it really special for reader, maybe as a birthday gift, or celebrating like an anniversary of that first fight when they meet).

I’m just obsessed with them atm 😭😭😭

this whole series is healing my inner teenager ugh asd;lfjas;ldkj

men and minors dni

you're having a shitty night.

you and sevika snuck up to piltover to sneak into some university frat party-- looking to sell the shitty cave-weed you've been growing in your hideout to rich college kids who don't know any better. at first, it was fun. you made good money, drank expensive liquor, and danced to piltie music.

but now, you're a little drunk, you've got a headache from the altitude, and sevika's pissing you off. she's got her signature cocky smirk-- the one usually directed at you-- pointed at some pretty, proper, pilite girl.

sevika says she's yours. she says you're her favorite girl in the world. but... sometimes you worry.

you know you're different from most girls your age. you've never been interested in typical girly things. wearing dresses makes something nervous start to crawl around in your stomach, and you prefer to keep your hair short and out of the way, not bothering with ribbons or clips or bows. even in zaun; where piltover pinks and frills are traded out for flashy piercings and bold makeup-- femininity just doesn't suit you, no matter what form it takes.

you huff as your girlfriend leans closer to the piltie girl, snatching the closest bottle of good liquor and storming out of the frat house.

you make it halfway down the block before sevika comes running after you.

"hey! don't you hear me callin' your fuckin' name?" you roll your eyes and keep walking. you can hear her scramble after you, before she reaches out and tugs your arm. "what's your fucking problem?"

"what's your fucking problem!?" you ask.

sevika gawks at you. "i-i dunno?" she asks. "i thought we were having a fun time!"

"you sure seemed to be having fun." you huff.

"well, yeah! babe, look!" sevika reaches in her pockets and starts pulling out silverware and watches. you snort and roll your eyes, and resist the temptation to show your best friend your own stolen goods from the evening.

"sev... do you ever think..."

"what?" she asks, still confused.

you sigh. "sometimes i feel like you should be with someone so prettier than me."

"what?!" sevika shouts. "y-you're the prettiest girl in the entire universe--"

"yeah, but i'm not, like..." you flail a bit, looking for the words.

sevika frowns at you. "you're not what?"

"you know sevika. you've known me since i was a kid. you're the same way, sorta." you say.

"so you don't think i'm pretty?" sevika asks.

you gasp and reach out for her with your free hand. "no!" you shout. "sevika-- you're so pretty, your face is all i ever think abo--"

"then why are you being weird?!" sevika shouts.

"because you were flirting with that girl!"

sevika freezes, then she bursts into laughter. "babe!" she cackles.

you huff and pull away from her, taking a sip off the bottle you'd stolen.

"i don't get what's funny."

"i was scamming her!" sevika cackles. you blink.

"what?" you ask.

sevika shrugs. "people up here are rich. and stupid. she was telling me all about how she snuck out of her sorority house-- how everyone who lives there is at a party tonight--"

"we cannot rob a sorority house!" you cut your girlfriend off. sevika deflates.

"but babe!" she whines.

you can't help but giggle with relief and exasperation. sevika must be even drunker than you-- she only gets this mischievous when she's drunk.

"absolutely not. c'mon, i took this bottle, we can go to our hideout and have our own party."

"but i only got like three sets of silverware!"

"look." you giggle, pushing the bottle into sevika's hands and reaching into your sports bra. underneath your shirt, flannel, and jacket, nobody could see the increasingly lumpy silhouette of all the shit you managed to sneak out of the frat house. telescopes, fancy lighters, pocket watches, bifocal glasses, and best of all-- two unlimited piltover university cafeteria passes.

"holy shit!" sevika gasps, grinning down at your haul. "you're fucking amazing!" she giggles.

you smile. "i'm sorry i freaked out."

"i'm sorry i didn't tell you my evil plan. guess i oughta tell my partner in crime about my criminal plans, eh?" she teases. you laugh, redistributing your goodies from the evening in your pockets, before grabbing sevika's hand and tugging her toward the university's campus. you're gonna treat your girl to an all expenses paid cafeteria dinner.

"yes, you should. now hide that liquor so we can get into the dining hall." you whisper.

sevika giggles. "these passes are for grad students. we're too young, they're gonna know!"

"we'll tell 'em we're child prodigies."

"us?!" sevika cackles. you snort and stop your trek, pulling sevika in by her waist for a kiss.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

I'm so excited for you, my friend!! Thank you for diving in. 🥰

I like this line, because it's what made Dean stop. In my head I feel like this version of Dean has pushed away so many people and the reader is the first person in a long time to genuinely say that she was "worried" about him, and it strikes something in his chest because he couldn't remember the last time it happened. That's the headcanon in my head anyway lol.

Oh yeah, that's a totally accurate observation, poor Dean. 🥲 He hasn't allowed himself to be "worried about" in a long time, since he and Sam started up their own lives.

Also the spice was.... 😱🌶️🔥. I literally cannot write smut to save my life, but you always write it so well! I also liked that you didn't do it as intense as omegaverse usually is, because we both know how it can be 👀

ahaha thank youuu 😘 It's really not easy for me, but I write it when I feel the story warrants it. And totally, the more subtle approach was what I was going for loll! I don't think I could write the aggressive smut that omegaverse fics tend to be. 🤪

OH MY WORD DEAN SHUT UP! I promise it's okay! She loves you and she can see that you're not a bad person because you literally have been nursing her back to health with her broken ankle 😭 Not to mention you guys are fated! She's not going to let you go no matter what you do.

Lol RIGHT?! How many times do we have to go over this, Dean???? 😭

But again... on brand for Dean to hate himself and to think he's not good enough -sigh- just means that you get to spend more time wrapped up with him trying to convince him 😊😉. I also believe that Dean loves intimac, that he does crave that connection with someone, not to mention I still love what you do in your Midnight Espresso series with Dean being a little touch starved for non-sexual touch. I feel like you've also implied this here and it is marvelous!

This is where I have to beat down the "not worthy" aspect of Dean's personality when it comes to love and intimacy. 😭 But I SO agree with you -- he craves it, even though he doesn't feel like he deserves it half the time. That's a big theme in Midnight Espresso, so I love you so much for enjoying that aspect in that series and in this one. 🥹💓💓

I'm literally cackling. I can hear Dean saying this to his significant other. Meeting Baby for the first time holds the same place in his heart as meeting Sam for the first time 🤣 ALSO, I wasn't ready for the palm kiss. Palm kisses and forehead kisses DESTROY me.

LOL this part of the scene was so vivid in my mind -- I have no doubt he'd be just like this when his girl meets his Baby. 🤣🤣 Oh same. I LOVE hand kisses and forehead kisses. They're so wholesome. 🥹

I like that this was an alternate ending to the dumpster fire that was the end of Supernatural. That it's Dean and his girl out on the open road listening to a Led Zeppelin song holding hands in the front seat of Baby was just beautiful in the best way and a perfect ending to this mini-series my wonderful friend!! I am going to miss this couple so much, but it really was a fitting end for them 🥰

Honestly that's the biggest compliment I could get on this story! 💕💕 It's the two of them riding into the subset to some Zep tunes, on their way to see Sam and his new little family. I might come back to write their little reunion, but until then, I'm so glad you've enjoyed this snowy, angsty ride. 😘❄️💜💜

Against the Wind - Part 4

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: The grand finale...

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, knotting, claiming, fluff and feels.

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 4: Running to Live

His cold hands are warming on your skin as he slides them underneath your sweater. They move smoothly up your back, bunching up the material. You break from his kiss only to help him get the sweater off you, followed closely by his pants.

Your sweatpants slide down your legs with just a sharp tug, baring most of your body to his gaze. His eyes drag over your exposed neck and shoulders, your breasts cupped in your bra, down to your panties and bare thighs.

A shiver runs through you, both from his heated gaze, and from being exposed to the cooler air. Even with the fire going and the heater running in the cabin, the frigid air outside is unforgiving.

You have no problem with the way Dean guides you down from the chaise to take advantage of your nest on the floor, right in front of the fire. He draws you into a sensuous kiss, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and grazing with teeth.

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return. You reach up to caress his cheek, feeling the prickling of his stubble. Your fingers thread into his hair, and you pull him back down for a devouring kiss.

Dean’s brows furrow as he holds you to him, wanting to feel every part of your skin against his. His calloused fingers map their way down your side, and across your back to unhook your bra. His lips veer away from yours to burn a wet, heated trail along your neck. His teeth come out to graze your skin, down your throat, down the lovely valley between your breasts.

“Dean,” you gasp, encouraging him when his hand cups one of your breasts. He explores the other with his mouth, teasing a pebbled nipple with his tongue. Your fingers tighten in his hair, your thighs rubbing together between the cage of his knees in the mess of blankets. Already you feel slick forming at the apex of your thighs and slipping down in between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “Fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You can’t help but smile. Your face warms either from the fire dancing shadows across your bodies, or from him, his attention, his warmth, and the heat in his eyes when they meet your again. His hand slides down your body, over your hip and squeezing your thigh as he opens you up further for him.

“Tell me what you want, Omega.” While I still have control, his tone implies. His voice is gravel and sin while his hand moves swiftly and smoothly up the inside of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you breathe.

Nodding, he hooks his fingers around the hem of your panties and slides them down. You help him kick them off. Afterward, his thumb brushes over your mound, making you sharply inhale and squeeze his shoulders encouragingly. His fingers dip inside your wet heat, his brows raising with a smirk, as he feels the sheer amount of your slick already coating his digits.

“Fuck. This all for me, baby?” he remarks.

You hold onto the back of his neck with both hands as you nod, biting your lip. Your hips begin to cant against his hand on reflex, urging him to touch you.

“Alpha, please…” you implore, in a ragged whisper. He swallows your plea with a ravaging kiss, but he still gives you what you want. His thumb circles your clit, earning a moan from you into his mouth.

Soon, two of his fingers plunge slowly inside you, working you open, drawing more gasps and shudders of pleasure from your body. His length continues to strain hard against your thigh, but for him, it’s worth it to draw every sound, every time your body writhes and arches against him, craving release.

With a few more purposeful strokes, your inner walls clamp tight on his hand, and a flood of slick coats his knuckles even more. You gasp his name, your hands squeezing his arms just as tight as your pussy around his fingers.

Your skin is beginning to get dewy with sweat, and he kisses some of it off you when he trails down your chest. You stroke down his arms, down his back, whatever you can reach as you catch your breath. But then, his name falls from your lips with a firmer tone.

Dean raises his head, and you gently push at his chest. His brows furrow in confusion, only for it to be replaced with a smile of surprise when you curl a thigh over his hip and guide him onto his back. His head just manages to fall on one of your pillows, but he still utters a small grunt. You giggle down at him, bowing to meet him for a kiss.

He smirks and holds onto your hips, playfully squeezing your ass. “My wily omega.”

“Thought I was your cheeky omega,” you tease.

He snorts. “That too.”

You giggle some more as you treat him to the same path of open-mouthed kisses down his neck. Except this time, you hook a hand behind his neck, and you trail your tongue around his mating gland. You feel his jolt of surprise, as well as his instinctive growl of pleasure in response to his mate. Or at least, not yet…

His heart pounds in his chest.

“Omega,” he says, a warning not to tease as his grip tightens on your hips.

The command in his voice makes you shiver, but you smile and nuzzle his cheek in affection. You kiss your way down his body, playing special attention to his nipples, his stomach, the soft V and the happy trail of light brown fuzz leading you down between his hips.

Your fingers slide down his hardened desire through his underwear, earning a grunt from him, along with a shifting of his body against the blankets. Your lips curve as you nuzzle him there as well, letting your lips drag across his impressive length.

His fingers tangle in your hair when you hook your nails around the waistband and free his cock from its confines. His boxers join the rest of your clothes somewhere, and finally you get to see all of him, as much as he takes in all of you. Your hand wraps around his girth, your thumb circling around the sensitive, weeping head of it. Dean groans, a sound from deep in his chest.

You don’t know this, but it’s been a while since anyone but his own hand has touched him. That’s not the only reason his body has been calling to yours, but it plays a part in how fucking good it feels, and how much more he wants you.

He feels your intentions when your hand moves down his shaft in a teasing caress, your fingers tracing around his knot. A shudder rattles down his spine, makes his desire burn hotter in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t fucking take it anymore. He needs you, needs to be inside you. Needs to take you the way his instincts demand.

He grasps your shoulder before you put your mouth on him. You blink up at him, with a question forming on your lips, but he hefts you up onto his chest by your arms. He cages you there with a kiss filled with abject need.

“I can’t. Can’t wait anymore,” he says. He drags his fingers through your folds and earns another moan from your when he finds your clit. “You ready for me, Omega? Need my knot?”

“Yeah,” you nod, agreeing against his lips. “Need you, Alpha—”

No sooner had the words escaped your lips, when Dean rolls you back underneath him. But this time, he guides you onto your stomach, then raises up your hips, until you’re on your hands and knees. You catch your breath as you regain your bearings, shooting an incredulous smile over your shoulder at Dean. He smirks back at you, but his gaze is intense, his pupils darkened with the alpha inside him. 

Still, he soothes a hand down your back and steadies you with a hold on your hip. You feel him slot himself behind you, guiding his cock at your entrance. His chest presses hotly against your back.

“Last chance, Omega,” he says, his voice tight with restraint.

You look back at him again over your shoulder, your mouth threatening to frown. You reach back and sink your fingers into his hair with a sharp tug. “Do it.”

He sinks into you with one smooth plunge. It’s a relief for both of you, your mingled moans echoing in the near silence. All that’s left is the sound of your quickening breaths, of skin against sweat-slick skin as you move together.

Dean brushes your hair away from your neck. He kisses and licks his way along your bare shoulder, and finally the back of your neck. You’re trembling by the time his lips find the sensitive flesh of your mating gland. It echoes with the pulsing from your core as he continues to drive into you.

“Alpha,” you gasp on reflex. You squeeze his arm; he has it wrapped tight around your middle. Your pleasure builds ever closer to that crescendo, especially as his thrusts become ragged, at an angle that zips delicious tingles through your core. “Close…just…I need…”

Dean isn’t so far gone. He hears you, and helps you, reaching his hand around to strum his fingers insistently on your clit, along with his final thrusts.

Finally, it tumbles you over. Your inner walls become impossibly tight around him as he draws out your second release—one that triggers his own. Dean groans into your ear; his knot swells and locks into place, and he spends himself deep inside you. He pants hot against your neck, but even though he fastens his lips there, he hesitates, once again making you shudder. 

“Do it,” you repeat, in a coarse whisper. You’re close to tears. “Please. Want you, Alpha. Need you…”

Once again, he hears you.

His teeth sink into the back of your neck, making you cry out. But your pain is quickly overshadowed by a deepest pleasure, thrumming along with his.

 Afterward, Dean holds you in his arms. The warm glow of the fire paints your skin in its light, despite the utter darkness in the rest of the house. 

While you both wait for his knot to subside, you revel in the fact that you know he’s content. You can feel it through the newly formed bond. He traces random shapes in your skin, which still glistens with a fine sheen of sweat. The fire he stoked doesn’t help to cool you down, but you don’t care.

Nothing else matters but this. You turn your head toward him over your shoulder. He meets you there with a gentle kiss, much more gentle than any other you’ve shared before. It feels right. 

When he parts from you, he presses another kiss to your forehead. Then he leans back a little and sighs. You feel his thumb trace the raw flesh around the claiming mark on your neck. A small shiver runs through your body. Maybe on another day, you’ll mark him in return.

“It’s too damn late,” he says, breaking the silence. “You realize that right?”

You shoot him a frown. “Too late for what?”

“For me to let you go,” he says. 

His words both warm you and make you sad. Just how little does he think of himself?

“Dean,” you say, endeavoring to be patient. “You’re my true mate. Do you know how rare it is that we’ve actually found each other?”

Dean remains quiet.

“And after everything you’ve done for me,” you add, “how can I not think you’re a good man? How can I not think this is right?”

He seems to consider your question. His gaze briefly falls, then meets your eyes again.

“You don’t know me that well,” is his answer, with a wry turn of his lips. 

You reach back to caress his cheek. “Then tell me. Tell me about, um…tell me about how you became a hunter. From your dad’s journal, I got the sense that it’s a family thing.”

A vendetta, you wanted to say, but you keep that thought inside.

Dean chuckles, dropping another kiss onto your shoulder. You feel the pleasurable rasp of his stubble.

“Yeah, more like a family business,” he says. 

He tells you why John Winchester started writing in that journal in the first place. Dean explains it in his own words, of what his family was before and after a demon broke into his brother’s nursery. Your heart continues to break for him, over and over, the more story he tells. Your shock can only reach new heights when he tells you about angels and demons and everything in between. 

There are moments where he pauses, needing the time to find his words. He’s talked for so long that his knot finally softens, allowing you to withdraw from him, just to turn in his arms and be able to see his face. He bundles you in the blankets to keep you warm, but he also keeps you close, with a loose arm around your waist as he continues. 

You sense that he’s not telling you everything. How could he? A lifetime of blood and wins and incredible losses; family gained, and family lost, endless saves, and so many near misses. You listen with rapt attention (and a lot of shock) to everything he can share, but your heart twinges when you see how he struggles to talk about his mother’s most recent death. Then his best friend Cas. 

You realize that this man, for all his self-deprecation, is a hero. More so than you already knew.

“After the whole Chuck thing was done, I thought we’d just…go back to status quo. Me and Sam against the world, you know?” Dean says. He gives a rueful smile. “Then Sammy tells me he knocked up his mate.”

You smile. “You’re happy for him though.”

“Course I am,” Dean nods. “He never thought he’d get to have all that. A badass chick who can keep him on his toes, a house, the kid, the whole damn thing. He’s downright respectable again.”

His brotherly pride and his humor are tinged with something else though. You think you begin to understand. His losses have weighed him down, leaving him aimless and living in that in between, not unlike the ghosts he used to hunt. You know the feeling. 

You thread your fingers with his, earning his attention. 

“You can have that too, you know,” you say. “I mean, I don’t want to skip ahead, but I feel like things are going well here, despite the whole busted ankle thing.” 

Dean slowly smiles, shaking his head. He brings your hand up to his lips. 

“Okay, enough about my Hallmark movie life. What about you?” he asks. 

So you tell him. 

You two continue to share and explore, both in words and with your bodies, until morning comes. 

It’s another week in the cabin before Dean insists on helping you down the mountain. Your ankle has gotten a little better, but at this point, you need to see a doctor. It takes a couple of days, going as slow as you need to. He ends up carrying you for most of the way anyway. You tell him over and over that he doesn’t have to, but your alpha is stubborn. 

Once he gets you back to the city, you two take a shuttle to the nearest hospital. X-rays are taken, and you get a new cast for your officially fractured ankle. At the very least, you don’t need surgery. You’re able to call your mom from there and let her know where you’ve been, that you’re all right, and best of all…that you’ve found your mate. 

You cry along with her on the phone, this time for a good reason. The best reason. 

When you’re eventually released from the hospital, Dean picks you up in a sleek, black Chevy that has your eyes wide. 

He grins at the look on your face. “Hey, sweetheart. Come meet my Baby.” 

He parks the car and keeps the heater running while he comes around to you in swift strides. He takes your crutches and slides them into the backseat, then helps you into the passenger seat. 

“It’s beautiful, but my God, how old is this thing?”

“She. She’s a she.”

“Oh, pardon me,” you say in amusement. “Do I have some competition here?”

Dean gives you a teasing smirk. “Well, technically, she’s been with me a lot longer than you.” 

You scoff incredulously. He laughs and takes your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm. You discreetly study him and marvel at how much lighter he seems. You don’t know how much is because of this, what your hand in his symbolizes, and how much is because he’s reunited with something important to him. 

“It’s okay, Omega mine,” he says, with a measure of desire in his eyes. “From now on, you’re my priority.”

Your spine prickles with the same arousal you can feel from him through the bond. You lean across the way and share a thorough kiss. 

Until a horn honks loudly from behind. You both jolt, but Dean’s face falls into annoyance. He shoots up a choice finger at the car behind him in the rearview mirror. You laugh as he begins to peel out of the curved pick-up and drop-off zone in front of the hospital. 

“Where are we going, Dean?” you ask, still smiling in amusement. 

“Wherever we damn well please.” He turns to you with a hint of a smile reforming on his lips. “Want me to take you back home? We can sort out the logistics on, uh…well, this.”

You think about it. He poses a good idea, but at the same time, you’re not quite ready for this part of the adventure to end. 

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Sam?” you ask.

Dean blinks at your question. He whistles lowly. “About a year. Jesus, since my nephew was born.”

You smile and reach over, resting your hand on his thigh. 

“Let’s go see him, then,” you say. “I want to meet your family. Then you can meet mine.”

After that, you two can figure out the rest, like where to live, and how you’ll live. 

Dean raises a brow. “Really? That’s like, a thirteen-hour drive.”

You shrug. “I’ve always wanted to go on a real road trip. Can we get some food first though? I’m starving.” 

He laughs and nods as he stops the car at a red light.

“What do you know? A woman after my own heart,” he says. His amusement eases into a gentler smile the longer he stares at you. You smile back, and you give into the urge to lean in again, meeting your lips with his. He brushes your cheek tenderly with his thumb. 

“I know what this needs,” he says lowly. Your brows draw together in a silent question. 

He pulls away to reach into the side compartment along the driver door. He fishes out a cassette tape labelled Zeppelin IV. You bite your lip and try not to say anything smartassed.

Damn, this man is old school. 

He skips ahead until he finds Track 7, just as the light turns green. A melodious guitar riff fills the car as he turns onto the main road with your hand wrapped in his. 

Made up my mind to make a new start.

Going to California with an aching in my heart…

AN: And that's all, folks! 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed Against the Wind!

Like I said in a recent update, I have more stories in store for you guys. January 3 will be Part 1 of Outlander -- sequel to The Honorable Choice -- a Western AU with Dean as our resident cowboy! I'll post a sneak peek on that one soon.~

But in the meantime, I hope you'll let me know what you thought of ATW! 💜💜

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[meo-eiru]

Ive been thinking about your Silas x pre pregnant darling a lot lately.

As a momma with a 3 year old daughter, I feel like Silas would be my biggest blessing and curse all rolled into one.

Little one needs a playmate while I'm busy with something? Silas has her playing till she falls asleep in his lap, both wearing matching flower crowns.

But now she's pouting and crying because I told her it's nap time and NO she can't sleep on me because momma is touched out? SOMEHOW it's not EVERYONES nap time and Silas has me trapped in the bed with them.

She's throwing a tantrum about being told no? Silas is saying how cute her little yells are despite me asking him for the 1000000th time to IGNORE her when she's like this.

Worst of all is after she's gone to bed for the night and he's asking me for the millionth time what pregnancy and breastfeeding was like when she was a wee one. Ah fuck, I must have looked a bit too nostalgic when talking about it. Now he's reaching for me with tears in his eyes and saying how much he's going to love getting to watch my tummy swell. How amazing it's going to be to have TWO tiny humans in his grove.

Oh 100% Silas would spoil the hell out of his child and enable all sorts of bad behavior. That's one of the reasons why I don't trust him with an actual kid.

Though he can be very strict in certain aspects. Like how he currently forces you to breastfeed from him no matter how much you try to refuse, or doesn't let you get out of the house without him and if you do go out you can't leave the garden.

In that sense there might be a bit of a love and hate relationship develop between Silas and the kid, because he'll mostly let her do whatever she wants and play with her but suddenly start being insistent with what she eats and stuff no matter how much she cries. Which of course would confuse the kid and I imagine cause more behavioral issues.

Things can go south really fast if you are not dominant enough to stand your ground and keep their relationship in check until at least when the kid starts to mature a bit.

[genderqueerdykes]

I'm so sick of perisex trans people telling me I can't be transmasc as an amab person. I'm fucking intersex and never had a real puberty let alone a really masc one. I grew some tiny tits and almost no beard, just some fluff. People constantly called me young lady all my teenage and young adult years. I was always looking too fem to be seen as a man but also not fem enough to just pass as a woman. But yea sure, no transition required here at all because i was born with a fucking dick. Cause what's in my pants is the only important thing when it comes to me being allowed to use the trans label.

hey, thank you for taking the time to send this! your story deserves to be told

i honestly don't understand why perisex trans people get so worked up about it. it's a very common, just not talked about experience. i get feedback from amab transmasculine people all the time, nobody wants to listen. amab transmasculine people get talked over so hard for the sake of petty internet drama it's so sad. that doesn't need to be happening. who does that benefit?

people really are way too focused on genitals right now. it's disturbing, and you should say it. that's just literally what we're dealing with right now. people are being predatory as hell right now, feeling like they NEED to know A.) the genitals someone currently has and/or B.) the genitals they were born with. i really just don't understand why that's the state of affairs right now. but every time people try to talk about it, it gets shut down. no matter what.

i just don't quite understand why perisex people are getting so defensive on the "behalf" of intersex people right now, it's so rude. it's hurting people, and we didn't ask you to do that. intersex people don't like you more when you hurt people for no reason. also, no one should feel obligated to divulge whether or not they are perisex, intersex, or something else. i don't like that people have to divulge any of this. you are allowed to control how much information you share about yourself on the internet. your safety and privacy is important. i think people feel way too entitled to very personal details about strangers at all times and it's frightening.

harassing you doesn't help me. i'm intersex. how does this help me, or any other intersex person? it just creates a situation where someone else has to step in to help. you're not accomplishing anything. i have no idea why people think hostility within queer spaces is a good thing but it's just so old. i want you to live as yourself, however you want to identify yourself as

of course you're transmasc. that's a very transmasculine experience, it doesn't make any sense to me why it matters to anyone. you are the arbiter of your own lived experience, nobody has any right to tell you how you identify. besides, in my eyes... aren't more transmascs a good thing ? that's what i thought, anyway. like that makes me happy. the more diversity in transmasc spaces, the better. i don't need to know anything about your body, or anyone else's. i don't like that. it's not productive. it's predatory. it's creepy. it's gross. it's invalidating.

thanks for stopping by, i hope things just like. calm the hell down. i just can't entertain that behavior it's damaging and i don't know why anyone is enjoying getting riled up anymore. just let people be. let amab transmasculine people talk

[jweekgoji]

I just read your d-16 obsessed with famous reader and was kind of curious to think about what he would do when he became megatron like almost yandere obsessive

anyways… ily!!

Yandere!Megatron/Idol!Reader [TFO]

tw: yandere themes, obsession, possesive thoughts. word count: ~1,7k additional: gender-neutral!reader, ex-racer!reader, decepticon!reader. a/n: I did something similar before, you can read here if you want. however I would focus on different scenario here and mostly on exploring dynamic through inner feelings (if that makes sense). i think i wrote about more violent Megs before, so i wanted to write a bit softy one.

Pretty little thing.

Always on a pedestal, standing at the centre of attention, you rarely had to think about any problems. You were always surrounded by someone who would surely worry about it and solve everything at the flick of your wrist. The only thing that was needed was to just innocently clap your optics and enlighten the rest of the crowd with your beauty.

It's hard not to get used to it.

From the moment he saw you, you were amazing. No, perfect.

It seemed like every time he watched you from afar, he was looking at the brightest star in far, far away space. No matter how far away he stood, you always shined brightest for him.

Surrounded by a crowd of fans that never gave you a moment's peace, like satellites, you always stood out in the crowd. Everything in this tiny, cramped world revolved around you.

There was nothing in D-16 that could ever catch your attention, if only for a second.

And yet, he was happy. Never having seen the real beauty of the outside world, deprived of freedom since birth, at some point you always made him feel surrounded in a field of stars.

If it was safe on the surface of Cybertron again, he would surely spend cycles watching the vast sky dotted with colourful, bright lights.

‘It's not the right place for you to be,’ he would remind you every time he gets the chance of.

Away from Iacon, albeit rotten in the filth that was left behind by Sentinel the false Prime, he couldn't deny that there, you would be much safer.

Away from Iacon, you were lost. You never seemed to belong in the company of the former High Guard. Being silver spoon fed since the moment of your creation made you more naive and so painfully obvious to everyone around. It is a miracle, that there were still someone who looked after you, even though your silly little title doesn't mean here anything anymore.

He must have hated you, you would have thought. Unlike all those who joined the Decepticon resistance, everyone here was united in their hatred for the former reign of long-abandoned leader of the Iacon. Numerous attempts to hunt down, then exterminate every last one of them, only to hide the truth will forever be remembered by those whom Sentinel Prime deemed a threat to his rule.

In turn, what really united you with the idea of the Decepticons?

Did you feel as if you had been betrayed? Were born into this world only to exist meaninglessly in the depths of of your home planet, furnished for a slow, faithless death?

Something in Megatron's gaze drew you in. It was hard to tell if it was that bloodthirsty determination to free your city from the captivity of tyranny, or that look of despair and bitterness as the newly elected Prime banished him from his own city?

Either way, you followed him that day, much to the surprise of the Decepticon leader himself.

You glanced in Megatron's direction. Battered, like a wounded dog he was clenching his teeth and sitting on an equally time-worn throne. The silver frame was dotted with many scratches and dents, and the distinguished cannon still emitted a faint hint of smoke after being sliced in half.

The three members of the High Guard always stayed close by, but it seemed that no matter how hard they tried, their words always passed by Megatron's audials, that he didn't even have the slightest desire to cast his gaze at one of them.

“We can't waste time just because you're unable to move on from the last confrontation,” Starscream hissed demandingly, red optics fixed on the seated leader beside him. “We have a chance to mount a surprise attack until they secure their position in Iacon.”

The quiet scraping of metal against hard surface barely passes your optics. Fingers dig firmly into the armrests of the throne, at the mere talk about the recent defeat.

“Makes no sense. All focus should be on finding a suitable base for the Decepticons,’ Soundwave reminds, taking a single step forward towards the jet. Now, Starscream's gaze in Megatron's direction is blocked.

“So why haven't you started on this yet?” comes another, counter question. Stepping forward to meet the officer, the former leader of the guard gives his colleague only a sceptical, stern look.

“I'm working on it,” is the simple answer, not uncommon from the Decepticon's lips hidden behind the mask.

Starscream pinches himself on the bridge of his nose, closing his optics for a fleeting moment. This is what he gets after cycles of loyal service to the Primes. Total disobedience, and their new leader is hardly battle-hardened, spending twenty-four hours wasted in a pathetic attempt to soothe the yearning spark. To believe it, and this is the brat he lost to?

“Then get on it quick!” the red and white mech clucks his tongue, after which, casts a sharp glance in Megatron's direction. “If we can't keep fighting, what was the point of all this in the first place?”

Such an arrogant, son of a glitch. Doesn't know when it's the right time to shut up. That hit only deeper, after everything that happened for the past cycles. The constant whining and demands do nothing to ease his already troubled mind. He lost everything that day, the one and only time when he felt like everything. The bloody red optics darken at the words, and a soft growl escapes from him.

So, you step up.

“Soundwave is right, there will be another time for the attack, but now the top priority is to establish a base,” you raise your voice enough to catch all the decepticons around off guard. “Let our leader sort out his thoughts instead of pressing on him.”

Who could know you can speak up?

The confused sight you received from Starscream worth it in some way. If for all of Iacon you were an idol, loved by many, the old member of the high guard had no idea about you. The majority of the decepticons probably don't know either, you imagine, but does it really matter? The only look you only wanted, was from him.

An invisible, red string of fate always seemed to be tied around your wrist when it came to the unknown, small miner named D-16. After countless days of him following you around, it would be you looking out for him. How funny.

You smile.

Not a fighter, nor even build for any hard work. Your frame is neatly polished, shining pretty in the light. Even though at first of the decepticons glared and watched you with nothing but suspicion and hesitation at first, your bright charisma always let you have your way. Good on cameras, a valuable experience even at war. Somehow, you even made friends with them. You can even remember Slipstream and Thundercracker asking you about your daily polishing routine.

The same, dark red optics always trained on you. He should be glad, at least. Wasn't he concerned about your position in his new rankings? No matter how hard he tries to act so mighty and cruel, the big bad leader of the decepticons, Megatron, is still soft.

Still shy, you can add.

He's taller, stronger. If you easily towered over him, now the silver mech is the one looking down at you. It was odd, for some time. Your alt mode is build for speed, keeping you on the road and easily avoiding any obstacles that might get into the way. But with Megatronus' t-cog now, he's no longer that scrawny mech you were used to.

It must be so confusing to him, but so satisfying. It is no point in trying to hide it. With how tight his servos wrapped around your waist, holding you suffocatingly tight against his own frame. Like you'd run away or disappear if he let go. Funny enough, you'd do exactly the opposite of it.

The last bits of his own comfort in this Primus forgotten place. With you in his arms, he feels safe and loved, even though he doesn't understand what exactly this feeling means for him. He felt like that every time he was with Orion, playing that arcade game over and over, even as a miner, it was enough for him to be satisfied.

Megatron hides his face against your neck, closing his optics. Loved when he's with you. It was never this close until now. As D-16, all he had was glimpses of you on the big screen television, some rare, closed-door nights, when lucky.

He should be happy now, he thinks. No more hiding now, just you and him together. No more of this cursed society that stood in his way. Who would dare to oppose him at this moment? Tell him he has no chances of having you this close, however and whenever he wants it?

If only you just stood still and never moved an inch. He'd put you on the pedestal you deserve to be, so he could be the only one to be graced by your own appearance. A big, nice, glassy box will be good enough to cover you from the outside world, so maybe no Prime would even dare to lay their filthy hands on you.

Your servo gently laid on his back, moving in lazy, soothing circles. Both of you don't have to say a word; it was a comfortable silence between the two. After long, long and tiring days of work, he wants nothing but to rest next to you. Let himself fall in the long deserved recharge, so the constant, painful ache in his processor would be gone.

Such a peaceful sight for you. Having him this close, right in your arms. You would never dare to bother him at such a time. Even if his servos are fully covered in deep pink energon, wouldn't it be easy to just pretend not to notice it? If there's anything you're thankful for from your past career, it is the ability to turn blind optic when it's needed.

If you can't change him, you can definitely make him worse.

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt.11

AN: The WEEK I have had omg. I was in the hospital then my partner was in the hospital and now I'm exhausted and the mental illness is coming back an bro I just wanna write about my funky lil guys.,

Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2 -> Part Seven -> Part Eight -> Part Nine -> Part Nine 1/2 -> Part Ten

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, canonical references to harmful treatment of the other toons, mentions of smoking but no actual smoking, approximately two dirty jokes (Who makes them may surprise you)

☁ The air is cool tonight. It chills his cheek as he leans on the balcony, the once chilled stone of the railing warm under his arms as a reminder of how long he's been out there.

☁ He wants to go back. He can hear your soft breaths and Cosmo's grumbles as he rolls back and forth a few times, but something in his gut curdles at the thought, crawling up his stomach and threatening to choke him.

☁ How can he go back to the group, to you, knowing what he knows now. It runs rampant in his brain he's sure he's almost dislodged his leaves by the number of times he's pulled at them.

☁ Him and Astro have since made it a habit of going through the old records of Gardenview, as it's both nostalgic and bittersweet, reading through the memories of things previously lost to him. Seeing the video of him and Cosmo baking, or the screenplays written for adventures between the four of you, or even just the letters the Toon Handlers had written concerning them all make his chest ache. Just the thought the four of you had previously been close before all of this is both a solemn thought and a warm comfort.

☁ He wonders what could've been prior to the breakout. What could've come from...well, all of it, really. There's a sinking feeling that nags in the back of his head at the thought, knowing if things had continued the way they were, there was a good chance he never would've gotten the chance to be with you and Cosmo.

☁ Him and Astro had the benefit of consistently being in each other's company, but since going through the old records, he's come to the disheartening realization that it was because of the breakout he was gifted with the opportunity to get to know the other commons, you especially. He knew Cosmo previously, even if his Handler attempted to minimize the contact between the two, but he truly didn't know you beyond the cute delivery toon and the minimal scripts that had you and him interacting for no more than a few minutes.

☁ While the ichor breakout was an awful thing, and he would never wish it to happen again, a part of him is grateful. It granted him a freedom he didn't know he was starving for.

☁ That being said, freedom doesn't come without it's cons. He's gotten on Rodger's case before for investigating areas he has no right to do, but those are mostly far more personal matters rather the general history behind Gardenview. Unfortunately for him and Astro, this lack of restriction has led to a few startling discoveries over the treatment of the toons that weren't mains.

☁ Recently, the Christmas toons had started making their own appearances on floors, so in the pursuit of getting Dandy research, you had also made it a personal mission to get them back too. So far, you had successfully gotten Ginger and Coal back, with Rudie evading you at every turn and the Bobette research slow going. They, Ginger and Coal, were stand-offish to begin with and while he didn't understand it, he gave them their space and left them to Cosmo and Pebble.

☁ After reading what happened to them after the Christmas season, however, he understood and worked with Astro to get Ginger's room an assortment of nightlights as to minimize the reminder of the old closets they used to remain locked in. Additionally, Shrimpo and Finn had been able to carve out a sizable doggy door in the wall beside the door for Coal to come and go as she pleased. Rudie's future room and Bobette's as well were both being fitted with similar things as well and- to his chagrin, as he looks back to check on you all- your room will need one too as he watched Coal's tail thump quietly, Pebble by her side and Blu on top of her.

☁ He blames Blu in all honesty. The lovable little shit had a way of making everyone love her, despite the circumstances of her appearance.

☁ Which was another thing entirely and the source of his current bout of restlessness. He groans lowly, rolling his shoulders back. His fingers itch for a smoke, but he promised himself he'd quite. It started when he was younger as a rebellious act against Sam, taking one from their packs and hacking at it until he got the hang over it. His own way of previously taking back his freedom. However, with it now freely granted, it wasn't needed and he, for the most part, quit it easily. It was mostly just a stress response at this point.

☁ He'd consider himself stressed at this point though. The most recent set of files had been...off. They'd been reluctant to open the file, as it was sealed with wax and stamped with all sorts of red warnings- very unlike the other files they'd gone through previously. They'd opened it anyway, reading through various employment records for an individual neither he nor Astro have heard of before.

☁ It was going on and on about an individual named Ciara, her start date of employment, her pay rate, her credentials and especially her role in Gardenview. It was written in black, bolded lettering, all caps to ensure there was no confusion. He can see it now, every time he blinks, flashing behind his eyelids as a reminder. "Ciara [Redacted]: TOON HANDLER"

☁ The only problem is he couldn't even begin to remember any other main besides the five of them, Dandy and Bobette. A part of him thought she was Bobette's Handler, but the employment date didn't line up with the holiday season. Astro had tried to hypothesis that she could've been a temporary replacement for one of the other handlers, but Sprout has a feeling he knows better. In fact, he's sure the room behind him, where the rest of you are fast asleep, was hers. It was the only one without a placard.

☁ He never doubted you ever. He knew this intricately, believed it to this day. No, his theory was that you didn't even know about it really, but too many things lined up for him to ignore it. It was little things that only meant something in hindsight.

☁ Things he never would've spotted previously coming back as he thinks all the way back to when he was first recovered. He remembers watching you outrun Twisted Pebble, managing to keep up in a way he knew the other common toons couldn't do when they were distracting. You had gotten hit during the retrieval run, but kept in front of him for the majority of time they needed to finish machines. Hell, he doesn't know how many times you've nearly sent him into cardiac arrest just by how...easily you're able to distract. It just comes naturally to you.

☁ Pebble, also, was right away practically attached to you at the shins, following you everywhere you went with a happy little tail wag. That originally is why Sprout figured Dandy hated you, but the further he thought about it, the more he thought there was a different reason. One he just didn't know yet.

☁ The biggest indicator literally slaps him in the face every morning. Blu's appearance, while was instigated by Dandy's interference, was still something he couldn't understand. Normal, common toons very rarely could interact with the magic within the tapes. There's only one he knows of, and that's Teagan. And even then, it's limited to influencing her own person. She cannot extend that magic to anything beyond herself. That is something exclusive to mains.

☁ They all use it to a degree, just not in the same way he does. The magic is everywhere, contrary to what most of the commons think, it's just strongest in the tapes, which is what he uses for his own ability. But the others call on it in different ways too. Vee uses the general area of tapes and where the magic is strongest to get a general sight on twisteds in the area. Shelly weaves it through into the machines to make them fill faster. Astro himself uses just a bit to rejuvenate someone's stamina. Hell, even Pebble uses the magic in the tapes to make himself appear like a larger target to twisteds after he barks. It's why they can't do it all the time, they need to let the energy stabilize. Recharge.

☁ Which is why he can't get over you doing it at all. Even with Dandy's interference, you shouldn't have been able to interfere with the magic unless you were....made with that ability.

☁ His eyes widen as he whips his head to look back into the room. Astro's not there, but Sprout can vaguely remember him telling him that he was going for a short walk. You and Cosmo are wrapped around each other, burrowing into the other in a heaping mass of legs, arms and tails.

☁ His eyes immediately dart to one of your hands. It's curled around Cosmo's shirt, flexing slightly before your fingers stretch out as you gently shift, the rest of your arm stretching out as well. There, in all their glory, are your paw pads. He moved off it too fast last time, but now it's all he can focus on. For all the times he's held your hand, felt you cup his cheeks, watched you do anything with your hands, not once did they stick out to him because they were something you aways had.

☁ Something you always had.

☁ Your hand curls back around Cosmo as he burrows into your neck, mindlessly hiking your leg further up where it's hooked around his side.

☁It wasn't momentary. It was all right there, in front of him, in front of them, and they'd all been blind to it. Even your twisted had shoved itself in his face, steps heavy and purposeful and audible. Your twisted even had an ability. While it wasn't a debuff like Shelly's or Astro's, or even incredibly fast (to a degree) like Pebbles, it was like his twisted. It could influence the environment. It charged and took away cover, took away any form of safety those who ran into it had.

☁ Falling against the railing, Sprout's eyes are stuck on you. If you were a main, what happened? Why were you practically wiped from the records, meant to remain a forgotten background character? Did it have to do with Dandy's distaste towards you? Did you have a passive ability that they just weren't aware of? Did you have any idea whatsoever?

☁ The door to the bedroom slowly opens, Astro slipping in before closing it just as silently as it was opened. He looks to the bed, nodding his head with every mental count he does before pausing. One of his hands physically points at both you and Cosmo, coming up empty for the third. Sprout smiles despite the current thoughts he's having, gently knocking on the balcony loud enough for the celestial to hear.

☁ He looks over at the noise, visibly relaxing before moving to join. He deters to the bed for a moment, bringing the blanket further up yours and Cosmo's shoulders before walking out to the balcony. Two of his hands reach for Sprout's cheeks, thumb running over the seeds. "You're cheeks are chilled. How long have you been out here?"

☁ Long enough." Sprout mutters, laying his forehead on Astro's. "I've been thinking."

☁ "About Ciara?" Astro questions, and feels Sprout nod. "I-...I think I know who's handler she was."

☁ Astro remains silent, but he knows the other is still listening. Lifting his head, he looks back into the room, watching over you and Cosmo once more. Cosmo's rolled onto his back, mouth open as his breaths turn into damn near snores. You're on his chest, drooling onto his shirt. Both of you look content and peaceful, Astro surely ensuring your dreams are just so as well.

☁ There's silence between them before Astro is humming softly, his tail giving a gentle sway. "I thought so too, honestly." He sighs. "Too many things add up for it to be otherwise, I'm afraid."

☁ "...Do we tell them?" They have no method of confirming this short of turning this entire place inside out, which they have neither the time, patience or energy to do so. But it makes that earlier feeling rot in his stomach further and the idea of not telling you makes him nearly lose his supper.

☁ "I think we can bring the possibility and our concerns up to them." Astro hums, ever so calm. He always is, levelheaded and soft, consistent with his needs and open with what he expects from them and himself. While they all try to remain open with communication there are times where Sprout is so lost in the need to care and protect you three he forgets to express his worries out loud, or Cosmo is so wrapped up in his own anxieties that he refuses to try and push them onto the rest of you; even you've been known to break down in your own frustrations every now and again, simmering in your own little nest of pouty huffs and scoffs under your breath. But never Astro. The celestial has always been straight with them, even if he's grinding his teeth or wringing his hands as he does.

☁ And there is nothing Sprout appreciates more, especially in instances like this where he himself can barely think straight, but is quickly reoriented by the other. "Do you remember?"

☁ Astro falls silent as he comes up with a response. Sprout knows he doesn't need to expand on the question, but enjoys watching the other's thought process anyway. "I...can't say that I don't." Astro says carefully. "I have memories of running scenes with them, but I can't pinpoint if I knew they were a main or not. Just that they were...there. They always were." His lips spread into a small content smile as he looked over to where you and Cosmo where still sleeping soundly.

☁ Upon further glance though, it didn't appear as sound as it once was as you were now the victim of Cosmo's grappling, huffing as he rolled to lay on top of you. Sprout knows from first hand experience that if you aren't prepared for Cosmo's dead weight, it's like a punch to the gut. He only semi-pities you.

☁ "C'mon, you need some sleep." Astro huffs, moving to shove Sprout forward into the bedroom. "And we need to possible save Y/N."

☁ Sprout gives a chuckle at this before conceding, crawling into one side of the bed as Astro crawls into the other, the latter taking on Cosmo, who immediately wraps himself around the celestial while Sprout is allowed to wrap himself around you.

☁ The feeling in his gut is somewhat satiated, more so when you eagerly burrow into his chest with a content little purr. It makes his chest ache in a way he's not too sure is positive or negative just yet, and instead chooses to hold onto you anyway. His hand blindly grabs for Astro's and squeezes it the second he cans. He hopes the presence is enough to sooth his dreams for the night.

☁ Morning comes faster than you expect, but you pay it no mind as your attention is kept rapt and forward. Your brows are furrowed as you play with your fingers, tilting your head when no immediate change happens. "Do you think he's dead?"

☁ "Don't you manifest that." Cosmo hisses from where he's trying to pull away from Astro. His butt waggles in the air, which does in fact catch your attention and makes you smirk as you watch it, as he uses his legs to try and pull back, but Astro's grip is ironclad; you would know.

☁ "It doesn't make sense." You huff, having half a mind to take a picture so it'll last as long as you need it too. Cosmo's tail unfurls for a second to give a harsh little whip before he groans. "You could help!"

☁ You ignore him, instead returning your attention to what caught it in the first place. "He's always awake first though."

☁ Cosmo gives one final pull, practically cheering as he tumbles free only to tumble right off the bed. Once more, you could've helped and caught him, as you're sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, but you only grin at him from his place on the floor. He shakes his head before shooting you a glare, using the bed to help himself up. "Thanks, my loving, and oh so caring partner who is supposed to love and help me in sickness and in health-"

☁ You shush him and his sarcastic tirade, forcing his chin to look at the duo on the bed. Astro immediately turns to lock onto Sprout, but the flicker in his tail tells you he's slowly waking up and probably listening to your bickering.

☁ "He's still asleep." You repeat, as if this is some big thing. Cosmo rolls his eyes with a scoff. "Astro is always-"

☁ "Not Astro."

☁ Cosmo looks over and as if it dawns on him for the first time, his eyes widen at the sight of Sprout. His leaves are messy with bed-head, but he's still sound asleep, shoulders rising steadily with every cute little breath.

☁ Cosmo's jaw drops and suddenly he's right next to you, watching Sprout as if he were another exhibit in the museum. "Is he dead?"

☁ "Oh, so when you do it, it's funny, but when I do it-"

☁ "It's still just as loud no matter which of you ding dongs do it." Astro huffs, startling you both. Cosmo slips back down to the floor with a thud and you nearly follow him, if not for Astro's tail whipping out to catch your hand. The celestial blinks awake, eyes darting to the two of you. "Are you both done?"

☁ "Sprout's still asleep!" You exclaim, as if this explains everything. Astro raises a brow, looking at the berry asleep on his chest, raising a brow as if to ask 'so?'.

☁ "He's never asleep this long!" You explain, gesturing wildly. "That's not our Sprout!"

☁ "I promise he's our Sprout." Astro easily reassures you both, watching Cosmo crawl back onto the bed, sitting far enough on the bed he wouldn't go tumbling for a third time.

☁ Sprout nose scrunches and he shifts and the three of you tense at the action. It's quiet enough you could hear a pin drop before Sprout is settling once more and you let out a sigh of relief

☁ "Not dead." You breath at last. "That's good, I was not looking forward to learning Ichor necromancy to bring him back if only to kill him myself."

☁ "I feel like this is a rare occasion. Like...Christmas." Cosmo adds, watching Sprout as well. "Or my birthday. Or maybe his birthday. Though, for future reference, if it was my birthday I would expect more. Maybe an early birthday gift." The diva shrugs, even if you shoot him a glare.

☁ "I have an inappropriate name to call you." You jokingly shove him before your perking up. "Hey! You know what this means?"

☁ "I don't think I want too." Astro huffs, furrowing the space between his brows.

☁ "Nothing bad!" You quickly reassure. "Or dirty." You add, shooting a look at Cosmo, who sticks his tongue out. "Kitchen's open." Is what you say at last, a devious grin spreading over your features.

☁ "Sprout'll kill you." Astro pipes in.

☁ "Uh, not if you take one for the team." You shoot back. "I'm not saying Gigi was in charge of inventory this time, but I am saying my record is 40 pudding cups and the chance at fifty bucks."

☁ "Fifty whole dollars. Wow- that's- Just woowww." Astro rolls his eyes sarcastically. "How did you know I've always wanted a sugar daddy?"

☁ Cosmo snickers even if you lean into the part, crossing your arms and puffing out your chest. "I'll get you the finest pops that I find on the ground, baby, don't you worry."

☁ This time Astro snickers, as if despite himself. "You're impossible."

☁ "Not yet, I'm not." You grin, moving to slide off the bed, but Pebble is right there, glaring up at you as if daring you to do so.

☁ Your jaw drops at this, once more foiled by this silly little creature who seems to have the ultimate vendetta against your kitchen escapades. Cosmo peers over your shoulder to see what make you pause before letting out a burst of giggles, only to clap a hand over his mouth before they have the chance to truly escape.

☁ "Remind me to give him a treat later." Your attention turns back to where Sprout is comfortable laying against Astro, letting the celestial play with his leaves, even if his eyes are locked on you. You have the audacity to give him a sheepish grin.

☁ "Heyyyy, youuu-" You begin, knowing you've been caught before you could even really truly leave.

☁ Sprout levels a look at you. "Well, now I know what you've been trying to do lately." He huffs before sitting up at last, rubbing his eyes before leaning back to press a kiss to Astro's lips. Cosmo eagerly crawls forward to be next, tail wagging behind him, and though you pout at being last, you accept your own good morning kiss.

☁ "Good, now Sprout's awake and we know he's not dead, about that early Birthday present-" Cosmo leans over, only for you to shove him by his face.

☁ "Actually," Sprout cuts in, looking back at Astro who nods. "We were hoping we could...talk?"

☁ You and Cosmo both settle, immediately sensing the shift and responding accordingly. You both sit side by side, watching Sprout with your full attention.

☁ He takes a breath, sitting forward as he plays with his fingers. "...What do you know of someone named Ciara?"

[paperyowl]

This is a weird ask. Feel free to ignore it.

But post breakup Buck staring at Rockon thinking Tommy has a date with this hot silver daddy (he ain't blind) and confronted them cos he's jealous to find out he was wrong. They bought him home for either a threesome (cos David never had one) or maybe just cuddles cos looks at the sad puppy and doting on Buck.

(what buck doesn't know is that Donovan is Tommy's cousin with a hilarious sense of humor who texted him the very next day to collect his man cos he ain't sharing his daddy with his cousin's ex no matter how pretty he is)

It's not weird at all. I love the idea! And I have two vastly different thoughts for this - lets go with this one for now. (I might have changed it a little bit - but I definitely need that threesome happening sometime still.)

+++

Pick up, idiot.

Calling me names doesn't make me want to talk to you more.

Tommy dropped his phone somewhere on the couch, not really bothering to check where it fell. He was not in the mood for his cousin's antics. His week had been so busy that Tommy was aching in more places than he knew he could. Maybe was is getting too old for this job.

Or perhaps he'd been slacking. Not eating well, not sleeping enough. These days, Tommy is usually good at taking care of himself. A hard-learnt habit, but he'd put in the work.

Not that it mattered now when his mind kept circling back to the rather sweet sentiment of someone saying, 'You don't have to do everything by yourself' and 'I'll take care of you'.

It was a certain someone with those impossibly warm baby blues that Tommy was trying very hard not to think about. (And failing miserably.) He deserved this. After all, he'd been the one to implode what they had.

His phone kept buzzing. After the third or fourth time - which frankly was ridiculous Don, what the fuck, get a life - Tommy hunted it down in the cushions and unlocked it.

Only to almost drop it when he saw the last message was a photo of -

"Hi, cuz," Donovan drawled, sounding deeply satisfied with himself. But Tommy wasn't focused on that at all.

"How do you have a photo of Evan? Is he there with you? Why is he with you?"

"Okay, first of all, ouch, I think I'm insulted-"

"Donovan."

Tommy heard his own voice rise and wondered since his fuse had become this short. Then he remembered that Donovan had always had this way of riling him up. That's why they hadn't talked in months. They'd been fighting about something; Tommy couldn't really remember what it had been about.

"Figured that pic would get you to call me," Donovan said. "No 'Hello, my favourite cousin, how are you doing?' It's nice to hear you, too, you know."

"Don't be mean, Rocker," another voice said in the background, one that Tommy didn't know. Or actually, he might - he'd heard it once before, and now he could remember what the fight had been about. But his focus was somewhere else completely.

"Hi. How are you. It's been too long. I miss you - is Evan okay?"

Donovan laughed at the way only one of those sentences ended in a note high enough to count as a question. Tommy hissed his name again, and finally got a 'yeah, yeah, alright.' before the phone was handed off to -

"Hi," Evan said softly. He sounded like he'd been crying. His sniffeling was hard on Tommy. "Your cousin and his partner are nice."

Tommy couldn't help but scoff. "Maybe they're doppelgängers."

There is a momentary pause, and Tommy is almost certain that the rustling he hears is a bit of a grapple for the phone. But it's still Evan on the other end when the noise dies down.

"I wouldn't know about that," Evan said. "You never mentioned them."

Fuck.

"Evan-"

"So we're back to Evan?"

"Bu-"

"Don't," Evan pleaded. "Just. Don't."

"Want me to go and rough him up a little? I still remember where he lives."

Donovan's offer sounded weak, and Tommy could imagine the way he had probably put a hand on Evan's shoulder. Or his back.

Evan didn't exactly laugh, but it was similar enough. The sound still unravelled something in Tommy's chest.

"Can we talk in person?"

"I'd like that," Evan breathed. "Just maybe not tonight?"

"Of course. Do you want me to text-"

"I'll take over from here," Donovan said, and Tommy vaguely heard the muffled noise of the receiver being covered. He checked his watch, aware that whatever conversation happened on their end took less than a minute, but to Tommy, it felt like ages more.

"You free tomorrow? Wanna come over for lunch?" Donovan asked without any lead-up, startling Tommy a little. "I somehow think you have a bit more of a reason to say 'yes' this time."

Tommy huffed a laugh.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm free," he said. "Is he alright?"

"Are you going to stop being an idiot?"

"Don."

Donovan sighed. "Listen, I know it's not really my place, but I know you, and I can make an educated guess what happened here."

"I don't like you," Tommy groused.

And like the total bastard that he was, Donovan only laughed and responded, "But you love him."

Like that was a normal thing to say. Tommy spluttered.

"Just be here tomorrow at noon, I'll cook" Donovan completely ignored Tommy's rather childish comment, 'You can cook?' and just went on. "And I'll introduce you to Deacon."

"The ominous partner that you wouldn't tell me more about when I asked?"

That was a rather shortened version of the outright shouting match of a phone call that they'd had all those weeks ago. There had been a lot of implications about very different, and Donovan wouldn't even tell him the name of the man who had him all secretive.

It was easy to read between the lines, and perhaps Tommy had been protective in exactly the wrong way. But he'd never been able to help that when it came to Donovan. The only family member that Tommy cared about.

"He just filed for divorce," Donovan told him. Tommy hissed in sympathy, starting to apologize for the whole fight, but Donovan went on: "And you wouldn't believe the things he can do with his tong-"

"Shut up."

Donovan kept laughing at him, and Tommy felt too exhausted to do something about it. And perhaps a little relieved.  

"Noon, you said?"

He might have only imagined it, but Donovan softened a little after that. But he proved he was still an absolute asshole when he yelled out, 'Hey Evan, say goodnight to your daddy,' and like the absolute cheeky brat he was, Evan did just that. (Tommy almost choked on his own spit, but after hanging up, he felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in months.)

[just-wrting]

Think I Like You

Title: Think I Like You

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Half Mink!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Master List

Summary: You try to figure out why Zoro won’t take you seriously even if the answer isn’t what you expect.

A/N: I’m not dead! I’m just all over the place with a lot of stuff. I sleep a lot which I can’t tell if it’s a sleep issue or a depression issue, but I’m always tired. I still work full time but also do school part time now. Plus I’ve still got a boyfriend! But he wanted to end this weekend on 1062 which means Zoro brainrot for me.

You stretch and roll over, burying your face into your pillow. Ever since you changed where you nap, you've started sleeping so much better. Something about being more comfortable or something like that. The actual reason doesn't really matter. You're just happy you're sleeping better.

"You owe me for this."

"I don't owe you shit. Not my fault you nap in my spot." You reach up and pat his cheek. "What do I need to do for you to be quiet?"

"I already told you, you owe me."

You open your eyes just a little. "What could I possibly owe you? I don't like to drink, I don't keep money, not to mention I can't even tell if you're the type of man to be swayed by physical charms. What could I possibly offer you, Roronoa?"

"For starters, you can start referring to me by my name like everyone else does." He looks pissed. "You should fight me."

"You didn't take me seriously last time, Moss Head. Why would I bother trying again?"

He pulls on your ear. "I said like everyone else, not like how that idiot says my name."

You ignore him and bury your nose in his stomach. Dinner has been started, and if you don't ignore it you'll end up going to the kitchen early. It's less that Sanji minds seeing you, it's more of the fact that you struggle to suppress the urge to knock shit off the counter and dip your fingers in the sauces. Such is the life of someone like you.

You let yourself doze a little. You can still hear what's going on, but just like every common house cat, you ignore it. What you can't ignore is the gentle scratching behind your ears. As far as you remember, no one has done this since you were a kid. You don't hate the feeling, but you start to feel flustered over it. Ever since you left home, you've made sure affection comes at your own terms so you haven't had this in years.

There's no point in asking him to stop. You're clearly fond enough of him to nap on him, what's the big deal about getting ear scratches? Besides, he's the type to get embarrassed and loud if you point out you're awake. That's not something you feel like dealing with right now. You're too touch starved to complain.

Despite the comfortable conditions, you don't actually fall asleep. You spend the next forty-ish minutes pretending to sleep, waiting for dinner to be done. The time passes by relatively quickly, though you're sore afterwards. You couldn't bring yourself to even twitch, worried that he'd stop.

The dinner call goes off, and you pretend to wake up. You have no clue why you're acting, but it was too late to stop twenty minutes ago. Standing up, you stretch halfheartedly. At first, he doesn't say anything. It's only once he catches up to you that he starts asking questions.

"What's the deal with the noise you make?"

Raising an eyebrow, you look at him. "I don't snore, so I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not stupid, I can tell you aren't snoring. The other noise, the one that's relaxing. I can usually feel it when you're laying directly on me."

"What do you mean? The other noise?" You pause to think it over before it clicks. "We aren't talking about that."

You know what he's referring to. It's not like it's something you can control, but it's still embarrassing. Of all people to be you around, it's been Zoro. No one on the crew has judged you for being what you are, it's just embarrassing to be a mix. Your mother's human, and your dad's a mink. You look decently human, just with a few quirks.

"What do you mean, we aren't talking about it? We're talking about it right now."

Your face starts to heat up. "I mean I don't want to tell you."

His eyes narrow in suspicion. "Why not? Is it supposed to be embarrassing or something?"

"If I say yes, will you drop it?"

"Yeah, sure."

His face instantly relaxes. If you could smack him, you would. The last time you tried, it hurt. So you put your hand on his shoulder and give him a push. The only thing it does is cause his other shoulder to hit the doorframe, but you use it to march past him.

You take your seat, leaning back against the armrest of the booth seat. Kicking your feet up on the space next to you, you watch the crew carefully. Everyone is smiling and in a good mood, so you don't have anything to worry about. You don't ever admit it, but you care about them even if it's difficult to show.

Zoro picks up your legs and lays them in his lap. Since it doesn't seem to bother him, you're tempted to just sit normally. You have no idea what's going on in that head of his, and you doubt he does either. However, you actually do enjoy touching him, so you'll stay like this for now.

There's more commotion as Sanji brings out the plates. The one you're most interested in is a large tuna fillet that gets set in the middle of the table. You can't stop staring at it, the tender flesh a beautiful golden color. It's hard to tell if it smells better than it looks or looks better than it smells. Sanji has never failed to impress you with his dishes, so you can't wait to sink your teeth in.

Before you can even start to load your plate, Sanji sets a small plate in front it you. It contains a disk of packed rice, some avocado slices, and chunks of fish. You're assuming it's more of the tuna. Whatever it is, it was made specifically for you.

You don't mind the special dishes. You'll try almost everything, and unlike Luffy, you'll eat it slow enough to give a review. Everything tastes good so you don't get the point, but it probably makes Sanji feel better to have honest reviews and not just someone who loves food fawning over his cooking. Though if you're not careful, you worry that he'll start having write an essay about it.

"And for you, a special tune tartare! If you like it, I'll make it again for everyone some time."

You nod. "Yeah, I'll let you know. I always do. Not that you've ever made a bad dish."

You can't stop the tip of your tail from flicking back and forth in mild annoyance. By the time you get halfway through the tartare, all of the fillet is gone. It's not like it's the biggest deal, you just wish you could've had some of that too. It's not fair that since you got a special tuna dish, that you don't get the other one.

"If you tell me what that noise was, I'll share," Zoro teases while pointing at you with a bite of tuna. "I bet you can't resist answering now."

"I'm a cat. I was making a normal noise that cats make. Consider it a compliment."

You lean forward and take the bite of tuna. It's flakey and melts on your tongue with a slightly sticky glaze that has hints of honey and garlic. You lick your lips savoring the balance of flavors. None of them are overwhelming, but it's hard to gauge in just one bite what you think about it.

"You can't just," Zoro stutters. "You can't just take the food off of my chopsticks. Get your own!"

You grab his wrist and lick the glaze off of the chopsticks. It feels like there's another flavor there that you can't quite tell what it is. It's some sort of herby flavor, that while you enjoy, you can't pin down.

"Here!" Zoro doesn't look at you as he shoves his plate towards you. "Just take it since I don't want your germs."

You want to tease him, but you'll leave him alone. It's better to leave it in front of other people since Robin's insinuations are becoming too much. For now you'll just eat the food. Later, you'll tease him.

—-

"You're still not taking me seriously, Roronoa. Why did you want to fight if you won't take me seriously?"

You lunge, hand reaching for his throat. He blocks it with his arm, causing your claws to dig into his skin. Using his arm as leverage, you pull yourself closer to him, swinging your sword at his side. His parry is effortless, and he looks bored. It's so aggravating that he won't take you seriously in a simple sparring match. Perhaps he'd take you more seriously if you actually tried to kill him.

You disengage before leaping over him. This time, you swing your sword at his neck as he turn around. It's once more blocked, and he smirks. You're just barely faster than him as he takes a halfhearted swing at your sword arm with his other arm. You catch the flat of the blade with your knuckles, steeling your arm against the shock wave of the blow.

Kicking your leg out in front of you, you aim for his knees, intending to bring him down. Despite the grip on his sword, he catches your ankle in his hand and pulls your leg to the side. You let your body pivot with the movement, twisting until your leg is behind you. You yank your foot forward as hard as you can, pulling him into your back.

He's quick to let your ankle go and grab your shoulder to steady himself. In a fluid motion, you swing your arm and grab your dagger. You flick it in your fingers and thrust towards his ribs. His hand trails down your arm to your wrist and pins it behind your back. He gives it a squeeze trying to get you to drop the dagger.

"Are you actually trying to kill him?" Nami tells from the side. "Are you stupid?"

You roll your eyes, sweeping your leg behind you and hooking Zoro's. Despite your efforts, you can't get him off balance, only causing him to take a step back. By now you're getting pissed off. You aren't a bad swordsman, it's just that this jerk is ridiculously smart in battle. This is probably the only time he'll use his brain all day.

You jerk your head back, hitting his jaw. The sound of the impact makes you regret it, knowing you'll feel like shit later. You manage to free yourself as he loosens his grip, and you elbow him as you twist back around. The only reason you're still going is because he won't take it seriously. It's like he finds it funny that he's able to fend you off so easily.

You rush towards him, tossing your weapons to the ground. Digging your claws into his shoulders, you use your momentum to knock him over. It only works because he's too busy rubbing his jaw to notice you in time. The two of you tumble to the deck, and you lean in as close as you can.

"Why won't you take me seriously? Is this just a game?"

Faster than you can blink, he's able to flip and pin you under him. He's even more smug than the last time you sparred, and you can't tell if you want to smack him or if you should kiss him. Not that you could smack him, he's got your hands above your head. While kissing him would let you win, you're not willing to fight that dirty in a friendly match.

"You're a brute, Zoro. You can't just manhandle the other crewmates just because you feel like it." Sanji pulls him off you. "If you were in the mood to fight I would've taken the offer."

You tune out their fight as Chopper checks your head and shoulder. You're a bit sore now, but you'll be fine in a few hours. Nothing keeps you down for long, even if it's usually just you going against the doctor's orders. The only thing actually bothering you is the fact that for a moment you thought he was going to answer your question. Though the fact you thought about kissing him is also an issue.

It's not difficult to figure out why you thought that way. Your parents made sure that you knew to find someone strong enough to protect you in case of something happening, even if you knew how to take care of yourself. That, and he's easy on the eyes. Even if he's an idiot half of the time, that doesn't matter. Your parents never said to find a smart man, just a strong one. Everything else was your choice.

Chopper hands you a damp towel, and you use to clean under your claws. Tiny spots of blood rest under them, probably from when you grabbed Zoro. If the pinprick wounds bothered him, he doesn't show it. He's too busy trying to shove Sanji off the boat. As long as you stay dry, it doesn't matter if they end up overboard. They can both swim.

After a few minutes, Nami separates them. You watch her glare at the men before you stalk off to take another nap. The sun is just starting to dip below the water, so finding a nice patch of sun to lick your figurative wounds isn't possible. You'll have to settle for sulking in some weird spot. Perhaps it's time to torment the fish in the tank once more.

Lounging on the sofa is probably the second best place to nap. The sound of the tank constantly humming while you watch the fish swim in tempting circles puts you at ease. You stretch out fully, let your arm and tail hang off the edge. The tip of your tails twitches slightly as you trace the movement of a particularly large bass. That should be tomorrow's lunch, perhaps in a stew. Even though it hasn't been long since you had food, your mouth starts to water at the idea of seafood stew.

"He really doesn't take you seriously, does he?"

You recognize Robin before she even speaks. Her stride is longer than Nami's with her steps being lighter than everyone else's. Not to mention she smells floral. It's never overpowering, but it allows you to pick her out from the crew.

"I guess not. Maybe I should've gone for his other eye."

She laughs, sitting down next to you. You aren't opposed to the company, especially if it's Robin. There something about her that puts you at ease.

"I don't think he'd like that," she muses. "What did he say to you?"

You scoff. "He didn't say anything. Bet he's too proud to take me seriously, like the jerk he is."

Robin smiles knowingly. "I'm sure he has his reasons. Maybe you should talk to him, just the two of you. I'm sure he'd tell you when no one else is around."

You frown. "What is he? A shy school boy? There's only one reason for not taking me seriously in a fight, and it would be him not thinking I'm even worth it. No point in having him tell me that in private, he can just keep it to himself."

She reaches out her hand, gently brushing your hair from your eyes. "Then what do you think about him?"

"I think he's an idiot who swapped out his brain for more muscles."

"Let me rephrase that. What feelings do you have about him?" There's a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "At least figure that out."

You shift so you can place your head in her lap. "I guess he's fine most of the time. I don't know why I enjoy his company, I just do. He's never really pushed me on anything, just sort of letting me do my own thing. Not to mention he's comfortable. As much as I hate admitting it, I suppose I like being around him."

She continues to brush your hair with her fingers silently. It's one of those tactics of hers. She'll stay quiet until you keep talking.

"What do you want me to say? He's nice enough to me, I can respect him as vice-captain, and he's decent looking. Everything else I think about him is my little secret." You're starting to get irritated talking about him. "Actually, I think I'll go talk to him now. I'll drag that answer out of him if I have to."

Robin looks at you with worry as you sit up. "Perhaps this is just a misunderstanding. What are you going to do if his answer isn't what you expect?"

"I'll deal with it when it happens," you say with a shrug. "It's not like it'll be anything surprising."

You take your time wandering around the ship. It's not hard to tell where he is, you'd rather put it off for a little bit longer. This weird feeling in your chest has been bothering you a lot lately. It can't be ignored anymore, but that doesn't mean you're one hundred percent ready to admit it.

Thankfully, he's exactly where you knew he was. You won't tell him that you enjoy finding him when he's working out. Something about him being shirtless is nice. Not that he usually bothers with wearing a shirt, so you can usually just stare whenever you want. Maybe he just likes the attention, and you'll gladly give it to him.

As soon as he leans back on the bench, you sit on his lap and stretch out over his torso. You rest your chin on your hand, pressing your palm on his chest. Watching as he sets the barbell back on the stand, you wait for him to start talking. It would be fine with you if he kept working out, but he seems opposed to the idea.

"Is bothering me amusing to you?"

You tilt your head slightly. "You're not cute when you're mad, so no. I was just hoping we could talk."

"You don't have to sit on me to talk."

"That's just personal preference. Besides, you tend to avoid talking about certain things and this keeps you from leaving." you say with a Cheshire grin. "I enjoy your touch, so this is ideal for me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Zoro looks away from you. “You keep saying weird stuff.”

You don’t even blink as you respond, “I enjoy your touch. That’s what that means. I’ll even be nice and tell you the answer to your question from earlier. As a cat, I sometimes purr when I feel comfortable and content. Though some cats purr when scared.”

“So you’re scared of me? Is that what that means?”

“No. The only thing particularly scary about you is the fact that you’re an idiot.” Your ears twitch. “But since I answered your questions, you can answer mine. Why don’t you fight me seriously?”

He looks at you for just a moment, before looking at the ceiling. It’s like he’s embarrassed by the answer and is hoping you’ll forget about it. However, you’ve already made up your mind about what you want. You’re just waiting to see what he’ll do.

“I-,” Zoro cuts himself off to hide behind his hand. “I could hurt you really bad. That would be bad.”

Your tail swishes on the ground in mild irritation. “So you think I’m incapable of defending myself. That would explain the times you’ve interrupted my fights.”

“It’s not that!” He sits up, wrapping an arm around your waist to make sure you don’t tumble to the ground. “I don’t want you to get hurt if I’m around. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”

You’re nose to nose with him now. Even at this distance, he can’t seem to make eye contact. You can smell the liquor from dinner on his breath. It would be so easy to close the gap and kiss him, but for some reason the thought makes you nervous. You’re usually close to him, so why is this time different?

“Why should you keep me safe?” you mumble. “Do you save me out of obligation for the crew? If so, aren’t there better people on the crew to swoop in and save?”

“Does it matter why?” The way that his lips almost touch yours as he speaks makes you flustered.

You close your eyes. “Yes. I don’t want to get my hopes up if you think of me as nothing more than a burden of a crew-mate. Just be honest with me for once, Zoro.”

You don’t regret the soft begging tone as you say his name. You regret not saying his name in that almost pathetic tone sooner. The way that he kisses you makes your head spin. Even though he’s holding you close, you have to wrap your arms around his neck to make yourself feel more steady.

Zoro kisses you like he’s been wanting to for months. His hold on your waist makes it impossible to move, and the way that his hand grips yours hair makes you moan. You can barely breathe as his tongue explores your mouth, your grip on reality slipping as his fingers dig into thigh.

Even when he pulls away to let you breathe, you find yourself lost in the way he touches you. Sloppy kisses trail down your jaw and neck, coming to an end with his teeth on your collarbone. The way that his fingernails scrape gently against your scalp as he tugs lightly on your hair causes you to expose more of your chest to him as you lean into his palm.

You’ve never felt like this before. Hot, heavy, and breathless all while being lightheaded. You wouldn’t have it in you to resist him if he wanted more. In fact, the pathetic words of begging him to ravish you weigh heavy on your tongue. Yet he just continues to press kisses along every inch of skin exposed to him, ignoring how hard you’re panting as little moans escape you. He’s oblivious to everything but the act of kissing you.

Zoro only pauses after you tug his hair harshly. You didn’t mean to, you couldn’t help the reaction to him biting down on the side of your neck. You couldn’t even help the strangled groan that leaves you as he leaves a mark. For some reason, your body is shaking like you have some sort of withdrawal.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice rough and low.

You kiss him again, desperate to get as close as you can. Desperation courses through your body as you realize just how badly you’ve waited for this. You’ve spent months being almost attached to him so it makes sense, you just can’t figure out how you missed it. The long nights spent curled up in his lap, face buried in his neck has left you craving him so much.

You whine as he pulls away, unwilling to let this stop. It doesn’t even matter anymore how prideful you’ve been up until this. It’s so obvious how much you want him. Nothing could hide it anymore.

“Zoro.” You don’t even open your eyes. “Please.”

He gives your thigh a tight squeeze as you whimper. You can tell that what little restraint he has is fading with each whine of his name. Yet he’s able to pause and hold you close, breathing heavily into your ear. Eventually, he covers your mouth with his hand, stifling your words.

“Not like this,” Zoro says, his tone meaning he’s serious. “If you really want it, I want to make it special.”

“S-special?” You don’t know what that means. When was the last time someone told you that you were special? “How?”

“Just better than in the exercise room on the Sunny. You deserve to be treated better than that.”

You nod, and he lets his grip loosen. Despite the fact that nothing much happened, you feel drained. Maybe it’s because you really enjoy naps, but the exhaustion is hitting you hard. You don’t hide it, letting yourself go limp as Zoro picks you up.

“You can sleep in my bunk tonight. Not that it matters if I say you can as you usually show up anyway.”

You caress him jaw before giving his cheek a kiss. “Thank you, Zoro.”

The flush on his cheeks goes unnoticed by all beside you. Not that it matters, you don’t want to hide your feelings for him any longer. If he agrees to it, you’ll parade your feelings for the world to see.

[temis-de-leon]

When another guy flirts with you

Characters: Demon Brothers x gn!MC (separately)

Main Masterlist

C/W: a guy flirted with MC while they were drunk, but literally that was it. It's just mentioned at the beginning. Non-established relationship, although there's clearly something between you. A bit suggestive.

.

Just when you thought calling him when you needed someone to pick you up at the afterparty had been a wise choice, he made you see you were wildly wrong.

You didn't need this. A hangover was already too much for you to bear on a Sunday morning and now you had to deal with the demon's inquiries? Sure, he'd been nice and reduced his teasing, seeing as you were drunk out of your mind and in pain the following day, but nothing seemed to stop him from asking every question imaginable.

Did you have fun? Did anything bad happen? Were you hiding something? Who was that boy you were complaining about when he got to the party to get you home?

It was that last question what was really testing your patience.

A stranger insisting on buying you a drink too many times to care? Tale as old as time. You never reciprocated anyway and your grievance had been brief; you hadn't even remembered the poor idiot until the demon mentioned it with a strained smile.

"Did he really think he had a chance with you...?" he said with a hint of mockery.

His tone hid obvious jealousy and you tried hard not to show your amusement, but it was impossible.

Faking an innocent expression, you crossed your arms over the table and placed your chin over your interlocked hands. His eyes were open wide as he stared back.

"He was quite handsome, actually. Looked just like you"

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Lucifer: he's so pissed, eye twitching and smile twisting in a sadistic expression that promises a good time. He always makes sure you know you belong to him, but he wasn't aware he had to make it clear to the general public as well. The moron was attractive, you say? Just like him? Oh MC. There's no one like him.

Mammon: he's offended at first, but quickly gets distracted when he realizes you think he's "quite handsome". He will still follow you for the rest of the day, reminding you how superior he is to whoever was bothering you the night prior, but every once in a while interrupts himself to gaze at you with heated eyes.

Leviathan: he's screeching. You need to prepare him for this kind of thing, MC, you know that! You think he's handsome? But you thought another guy was handsome! Oh, but you called him, didn't you? You called him because you preferred him! He will make sure you won't regret your choices; just give him a few minutes to cool down and stop blushing behind his hand like a schoolgirl.

Satan: he may be frowning with all his might, but nothing will take that blush away from his face. Some of the things you say leave him speechless and this happens to be one of them. While angry about some guy pestering you for an opportunity that he won't ever get, Satan will spend the rest of the day taking care of you in the privacy of his room. You think he's handsome? Wanna know what he thinks of you?

Asmodeus: he's absolutely furious. No one will save you. You dare compare him to some random guy you found in a trashy club?? Partying without him is already a serious offence that he has mercifully decided to forgive, but setting his beauty and his perfection at the same level as some... drunk idiot's?? You're done. You will be hearing about this for days.

Beelzebub: he feels flattered and worried at equal levels. Being called handsome by you will forever make him blush and smile, but he is concerned about a stranger bothering you and not leaving you alone. He would've preferred if you called him sooner for that matter, although he doesn't berate you for it. As long as you're fine, he's happy.

Belphegor: he's so tired, MC. It was already a miracle that you managed to catch him awake and in a mood amicable enough to go get you in the middle of the night; do you really want to test his patience? Your words leave him silent and irritated and he will drag you to his room or the attic for a long nap session in retaliation. And when you're both done sleeping? Prepare to call him handsome again. And again. And again.

.

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Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[transformers-spike]

autobots turn >:)

i did the decepticons i really like and how they would feel, time for the autobots i really like; wheeljack, arcee, and ratchet.

out of everyone, wheeljack would be the one to most likely find human porn, if it wasn't, ratchet trying to look into human anatomy to keep up with what affects a fleshy body. he would not be ashamed to say that he has indeed masturbated to it, too. it is once he is with his human that he is told how porn is mostly faked and a lot of things are used for money and not genuine sake.

especially discovering how his human partner feels about themself. emotions are hard, but he can understand. he lets them be vulnerable and holds them when they feel like they will be judged when they won't be. he adores them, no matter what they look like. outside or inside. this doooooes mean he is asking questions how sensitive everything else is. which leads to the best mind blowing orgasm the human has from his glossa alone.

with arcee, she learns through her partner rather than porn. i do not think she would be all interested as she has a human in front of her that she always was sporting for. (before, it was june until they came along but shh.) interfacing isn't on top of her priority list, but when her human wants to learn more about her equipment, she gives them time with each other. it means she also gets to learn about her partner's and adores how large their anterior node is. always in sight and their valve so cute, however a lot smaller than what she heard from the human "fetishists" (cough cough magnus and wheeljack cough cough).

it is a tight fit, but she can mass displace if it is hard. if her spike can't fit, they can always resort to scissoring, her digits, or glossa. either way, she gets to watch all the faces they make. and there is a lot of cuddles afterwards.

then with ratchet... oh, he has knowledge on the different kinds of intersex there is. once his own human partner tells him about themself biologically before a checkup is done, he just tells them straight up that it doesn't change his view on them. it actually helps better with an exam/checkup to see what he is looking for. a normal checkup... that is what would have happened if his large digits just didn't rub against them so deliciously.

they try to keep still, be as silent as possible, but when you have a doctor staring at your valve while it is leaking lubricants is.....a bit hard. the doctor in him tries to keep everything in line, but when he hears a whimper, his glossa is slipping into that wet heat and just enjoying his human's whines and moans. they will forever be beautiful to him, no matter what.

I am so giddy reading this ueifieiofeoefi It's a joy to have other folks talk about these experiences with bots, especially since I don't have enough knowledge to tackle this. Anyone can send me their headcanons on x thing, especially if they have insight I lack. Always an absolute delight to read. Also - why is Magnus also a human fetishist? You can't just drop this and run - I'm begging to hear more about it