#so this is not like my NORMAL; i just happen to have a lot of stuff in the works atm

[owo-writing-man]

So as someone who was a girl at the time. Wrestling in a "male" sport. It is soley because of egos (and the culture that made those egos. These men only have it because they were raised with it) . I did wrestling starting at 4. People were like "once you hit puberty men will beat you more"

While yes the men had more muscle than me. ( I was never a muscle person) I had skill. And also they were the same weight as me. They just had different proportions. Which happens all the time. I won as much as I lost. Which was pretty normal for my entire career. I was really good at not losing. Not the best at winning. Y'know.

Like one time I pinned a guy I had been wrestling with my entire life. (In an official match and not just at practice) and he then had a breakdown out in the hallway. Despite having wrestled with me for years AND knowing I had been wrestling longer than him. He thought he would just win by pushing me around. He wasn't that skilled. I had told him multiple times in practice he wasn't going to win by using his strength against opponents. He was a new wrestler maybe wrestling for a year or two. I gave him advice and guidance.

Not a small majority of my wrestling career was winning medals and matches because coaches refuse to put their boys against a girl (elementary) and then the boys refusing themselves (middle to high school)

It's sorta a cultural thing. Cause those elementary boys weren't not wrestling because they didn't wanna wrestle a girl. It's because their dads didn't want them to wrestle girls.

And anytime I did wrestle a boy two things would happen. I would win and his teammates would bully him. Or he would win and his teammates wouldn't congratulate him cause he beat a girl and that is the normal expected thing to do.

Like I sorta felt bad for any guy who had the decency to actually wrestle me. He was putting a lot on the line socially anytime he did. And that's respectable. I think it's such a cultural thing and I don't wanna blame the individual. I sorta wanna give them applause for going against the culture like that.

(Not that fucking bad if they broke down afterwards cause then they only did it since they believed I was gonna lose cause u was a girl. I'm talking about the decent guys who put what they had on the mat and left with sportsmanship win or lost)

It could also be any forfeit was counted as a loss on your record and if you're trying to go to college with this you don't wanna recorded losses.

It's definitely a cultural and ego thing.

call me ignorant but i genuinely don’t understand why sports have to be split up by gender.

[briefinquiries]

Tommy Shelby x Reader: By Order of Blood

Summary: Tommy Shelby thought sending you away would keep you safe, until the carriage was intercepted. Now, as he cradles your trembling, broken body, he swears two things: he will never let you go again… and the men who touched you won’t live to see another sunrise.

Word count: 8.5k

Warnings: angst, violence, injury descriptions (mentions of blood, torture, SA), PTSD, nightmares, and panic attacks, emotional distress, and revenge-driven violence (also includes lots of hurt / comfort).

A/N: Lost all motivation to write my normal stuff recently, but currently rewatching peaky blinders and feeling all sorts of ways about my boyyy tommy shelby.

"Tommy, please. Don't do this." Your voice was barely above a whisper as the weight of the moment pressed down on your chest like a stone.

You reached for him, fingers trembling as they grazed the fabric of his coat. 

But he didn’t budge. He stood rigid, back straight, his jaw locked so tight you could practically see the muscle ticking underneath his skin. A cigarette burned low between his fingers, a thin wisp of smoke curling in the dim light.

His face was unreadable, a mask of cold detachment. It was the same one he wore when giving orders that decided life or death. 

"You’re leaving tonight," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

You shook your head before he was even finished speaking, your breath catching. "No– no, I don’t want to leave."

Tommy exhaled slowly, as if he was gearing up for a fight. "This is not about what you want."

Your throat tightened. "Tommy, please–"

"You’ll be safer away from me."

You let out a dry, hollow laugh. "Safer?" The word tasted bitter on your tongue. "Tommy, I’m safe when I’m with you. The further away you are, the less safe I’ll feel."

For a second, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes. Hesitation. Regret. Maybe even doubt. But then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Buried beneath layers of steel.

His shoulders stiffened, his fingers tightening around the cigarette. "You’ll have guards."

"I don’t want guards." Your voice wavered. "I want you. What if something happens, Tommy? What then?"

His breath hitched, but he remained stoic. "It won’t," he said firmly.

You searched his face, desperate for something, anything, that would tell you he wasn’t as sure about this as he was pretending to be. That this was tearing him apart, too. But all you saw was cold resolve. Complete certainty. 

A hollow feeling spread through your stomach as the truth settled in your bones. He had already made up his mind. And there was nothing you could say to make him change it.

Panic pressed against your ribs. You wanted to tell him that being away from him would be worse than any danger that lurked in Birmingham. But you couldn’t find the words.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, Tommy took one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out with slow, deliberate movements. When he finally looked at you, his blue eyes were unreadable.

"The carriage is waiting."

The words hit you like a blow, stealing whatever fight you had left.

You felt yourself nod, but you didn’t say anything. There was nothing left to say. Without another word, you turned and walked away, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silence.

And Thomas Shelby let you go. 

…

The wooden seat beneath you felt cold and unforgiving. But not nearly as cold as the hollow feeling in your chest.

You sat stiffly, arms folded across your body. Your stomach churned– a mixture between fear, anger, and grief. Each emotion fought for dominance, and yet all you could do was stare blankly at the road stretching endlessly ahead of you, your surroundings blurring past the window.

You tried to rationalize his actions and remind yourself why he made the choices he did. But this didn’t feel like protection anymore. 

It felt like a punishment. 

The hours dragged. The rhythmic clatter of hooves and the occasional creak of the carriage were the only sounds filling the silence. You hadn’t spoken a word to the driver or to the men Tommy had sent to guard you. You refused. Who cared if they thought you were some entitled brat?

But then, suddenly, something in the air shifted.

You weren’t sure what it was at first. Maybe it was just a feeling, an unease that coiled in your stomach like a vice. But then you noticed the hooves come to a gradual stop. One of the guards riding ahead straightened in his saddle, glancing toward the dense trees lining the road.

Your pulse quickened, but before you could even part your lips to ask what was wrong, you heard the gunshot.

A sickening crack followed by shouting. One of the men slumped forward on his horse before crashing onto the dirt road in a heap. The horses screamed, rearing violently. The carriage lurched, sending you slamming into the side with a sharp gasp.

Another shot. Another thud. 

The second guard fell before he could even draw his gun. Then the driver let out a strangled yell, yanking hard on the reins. 

But it was too late.

Figures emerged from the darkness of the trees, their boots pounding against the dirt, moving fast. Panic seized you. Without thinking, you scrambled toward the door, heart hammering, fumbling for the latch. You could still get out, still run, still–

But when you threw your weight against it, the door didn’t budge.

The impact from the gunfire, the carriage rocking on the uneven road– it had bent the frame inward. The wood creaked, but the metal hinges were jammed tight.

"No, no, no–” you pleaded. You pushed harder, shoulders slamming against the door.

Then, the other door was yanked open violently, nearly ripping off its hinges. You barely had time to turn before rough, gloved hands grabbed you, wrenching you forward. You thrashed against them, kicking, clawing, screaming for them to let go. 

"Shut her up!" A voice snapped. 

And just like that, the back end of a gun slammed into your gut, knocking the air from your lungs. Your vision blurred as your body doubled over. Fingers fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so hard your scalp burned.

One of the men leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek.

"I guess Shelby should’ve sent more men."

Your heart pounded violently in your chest as the other men chuckled darkly.

Your hands shook as you tried to fight, but there were too many of them, too many voices, too many shadows closing in around you. You screamed again. 

Then, a final, crushing blow to the side of your head sent the world tilting. Your knees buckled. 

And then– total darkness.

…

The office smelled of whiskey and smoke as the low glow of candlelight flickered against the walls. Tommy sat behind his desk, fingers wrapped around a glass he hadn’t yet touched.

Across from him, Arthur was talking. Something about business, numbers, men needing paying, but Tommy wasn’t listening. He had been distracted all night.

His mind kept circling back to you. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself he made the right choice– that sending you away had been for your own good, that it was the only way to keep you safe. That image of you, eyes wide, pleading, your fingers brushing against his coat before he had forced himself to turn away remained at the forefront of his mind.

"Tommy, please," you had begged. 

He had ignored the way it made his chest ache, forcing himself to shut down the part of him that wanted to keep you close.

Because this was the only way.

Right?

But if it was the right choice, then why the fuck did it feel like such a fucking mistake?

"Tom?" Arthur’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Tommy blinked, setting the untouched glass down with slow, deliberate movements. His fingers tapped against the wood, a restless habit. "What?"

Arthur frowned, watching him closely. "You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said, have you?"

A muscle in Tommy’s jaw twitched. 

Arthur exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Jesus, Tommy. Forget about it. You did the right thing, yeah? She’s safer out of Birmingham. You said so yourself."

Tommy leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face. He shook his head, reaching for the cigarette pack on his desk, desperate for something to quiet his mind. But just as he struck the match, the door burst open.

Tommy’s head snapped up.

John stood in the doorway, breathless and pale.

"Tommy–" he panted, eyes wide with urgency. "The carriage– we just got word– it was intercepted–"

For a moment, the words didn’t register. A slow, heavy silence fell over the room. Tommy just stared at him, cigarette burning between his fingers, unmoving. Then, a sharp, cold wave of panic slammed into his chest.

His chair scraped against the floor as he shot to his feet. "What?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

John swallowed hard. "One of the scouts came back. The men– the guards you sent– they’re dead. Driver too."

The room tilted. A deafening ringing filled Tommy’s ears, drowning out everything else.

No, no, no. No. 

"Where?" Tommy demanded, his voice now urgent, raw, trembling with barely contained terror.

"We don’t know yet–"

Tommy’s chest heaved, his breath coming sharp and ragged. "Find out," he snapped, grabbing his coat. His hands were shaking. "Find out right fucking now."

Arthur was already up, grabbing his gun. "We’re going after her, Tommy."

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, pacing, trying to think, trying to breathe, trying not to fucking lose it.

He had sent you away.

He had sent you away.

His heart pounded violently, his throat tight with a kind of fear he had never felt before.

Not anger. Not fury. Not vengeance.

Fear.

Because if they had taken you…

If they had hurt you…

Tommy couldn’t finish the thought.

Because the moment he did, he wouldn’t be able to fucking breathe.

…

When you woke up, the first thing you registered was the pain. 

The deep, aching throb in your skull. The metallic taste of blood coated your tongue, thick and suffocating.

Your body felt heavy, your limbs sluggish as you tried to move, only to realize that you couldn’t.

Panic slid into your chest, sharp and immediate as you became aware of the restraints, of the rough, biting feel of rope digging into your wrists, binding them behind the back of a chair. Your breath hitched, vision swimming in the overwhelming darkness that surrounded you.

You struggled against the restraints, muscles screaming in protest, but the chair barely creaked beneath your weight. The air was damp, thick with the scent of rotting wood and stale sweat. Somewhere in the distance, you heard the faint melodic drop of water.

A basement. Maybe a warehouse. Somewhere completely forgotten.

A door creaked open and your breath stilled. There were footsteps– slow and leisurely. 

A shadow loomed at the edge of the room, then a man stepped forward, boots scraping against the concrete floor. The dim light of a lantern illuminated his features, dark eyes full of amusement, a smirk twisting his thin lips.

"Well, well," he drawled, tilting his head. "Look who's awake."

Your stomach coiled in disgust as he came closer, circling you like a predator playing with its prey. You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to stay still, to keep your expression blank.

The man stopped just beside you, tapping a finger against his chin, mockingly thoughtful. "You’re prettier up close," he mused. "Is that why Shelby keeps you so close? Well… not this time I guess."

A beat of silence. Then, his voice dropped into something colder, sharper. "Where’s he keeping his next shipment?"

You didn’t answer but his smirk only widened. "Playing the silent game, are we?"

He moved closer to you, and before you could react, a sharp, stinging slap cracked across your cheek.

Your head snapped to the side, your vision blurring with the impact.

"You’ll want to answer me," he said menacingly. "Or this is going to get a hell of a lot worse for you."

You clenched your teeth, forcing your breath to stay even. 

He let out a disappointed sigh. "Stubborn little thing, aren’t you? Brave, even?" He stepped closer, gripping the arms of your chair, leaning in until his breath was hot against your ear. "But tell me, sweetheart… how brave do you think you’ll be when we’re through with you?"

You refused to let him see your fear. But inside, terror clawed at your ribs, sinking in deep.  

The man stepped back, studying you. His smirk hadn't faltered, but you could see the frustration flicker in his dark eyes.

"Not talking, eh?" He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as if this were some inconvenience, some tedious task he had to complete before moving on with his night.

Then, without warning, his fist slammed into your stomach.

Your body jerked violently against the ropes, a strangled gasp ripping from your throat as the air was stolen from your lungs. White, hot agony flared in your gut, the chair beneath you rocking from the force of it. You coughed, your body instinctively trying to double over, but the ropes held you upright, forcing you to endure it.

Still, you said nothing.

The man let out a humorless chuckle. "Tough girl, huh?"

Another blow. To your face again. You bit the inside of your cheek, swallowing the cry that threatened to escape.

"Tell me," he continued casually, shaking out his fist, "where the Peaky Blinders keep their weapons."

You lifted your head slowly, breathing heavily through your nose. Then, you spat blood onto the floor at his feet.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. And then, his hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back so sharply you let out a strangled gasp.

"I was hoping you’d be difficult," he murmured, tilting his head. "It makes this so much more fun for me."

Deep fear curled around your bones like ice. Because you knew exactly what men like him were capable of. He let go of your hair abruptly, your head snapping forward from the force of it, pain splintering through your already throbbing skull.The next blow came before you could brace yourself. It was a heavy, brutal punch to your nose. Pain exploded behind your eyes, your body lurching sideways, nearly toppling the chair. Your ears rang, the room spinning wildly.

Your nose was dripping. It took you a second to realize it was blood, warm and thick as it trailed down your lips. Still, you didn’t speak. 

He let out a long, slow breath, tilting his head as he studied you. "I can do this all night," he said lightly, as if he weren’t already beating you bloody. Then, something darker crossed his expression. 

"But maybe," he continued, voice lower, silkier, more dangerous, "I could find other ways to make you talk."

Your stomach churned at the sight of his gaze, predatorial. Every muscle in your body seized as he took a step forward, one hand reaching for his pocket. Then, metal glinted under the dim light.

A knife. Not small, not discreet, but long, sharp, wicked.

He flicked it open with an almost lazy motion, rolling it between his fingers like a coin, as if the weapon was nothing more than a casual accessory to him. "You know," he mused, tilting his head, his eyes dragging over your bound, broken form with something close to amusement, "I've always wondered how many pieces a person can be cut into before they bleed out."

He crouched beside you, the blade dancing along his fingers, before slowly pressing the cold steel under your chin.

"Tell me what I want to know," he murmured, his voice almost gentle, like a whisper of silk against your skin. 

More silence. 

He smirked. A devilish grin spread across his face. “Maybe I'll start with the fingers."

Your heart pounded violently, every nerve in your body screaming at you to run, fight, do something– 

But what were you supposed to do? The ropes bit into your wrists, your limbs too weak, too battered, your breath too shallow.

"Think I'm bluffing?" he asked, watching your reaction. "Think I won’t carve you up, nice and slow?"

The knife dragged downward, grazing lightly along the column of your throat, just enough to prickle your skin, to remind you how easily he could cut deeper.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cheek.

"Because I will, sweetheart," he whispered, almost fondly. "And when I'm done, I’ll send the pieces back to Shelby. One by one."

“I don’t know where the weapons are,” The words spilled out before you could even think, desperate, shaky, but holding just enough bite to make them believable. “Tommy doesn’t tell me those things– says it’s not a woman’s business to know– that we’d break too easily if we got questioned.”

Your breath hitched, your pulse roaring in your ears as you held his gaze, willing yourself to look small, weak, unimportant.

He laughed. Low, dark, amused. He leaned in again, the overwhelming stench of sweat and smoke rolling off him in waves.

"You think I believe that?" His voice was smooth as he tilted his head, watching you with something cruel, calculating. Your breath came in short, shallow bursts, your hands twisting uselessly behind your back, fingers numb from the ropes cutting into your skin.

You didn’t answer. Because you knew better. Men like him didn’t want the truth. They wanted excuses to hurt you.

He sighed, feigning disappointment. "See, sweetheart, here’s the problem with your little lie." He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper, something smudged with dirt and blood.

"One of your guards had this tucked in his coat. An order from Mr. Shelby himself," he said, unfolding it with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Says to keep you safe. Says not to let you out of their sight."

The bastard grinned as he tossed the paper onto your lap. "Now, why would Thomas Shelby go through all that trouble for someone who doesn’t know anything?"

You felt cold all over. He knew. No amount of lying was going to save you now.

"Yeah," he murmured, standing upright. "That’s what I thought."

His hand shot out suddenly, gripping your jaw, forcing your head back. You winced, but didn’t look away. A cruel smile spread across his face. "That’s good," he murmured. "I like when they look at me."

Then, cold steel pressed against your cheek. You flinched violently, your breath stuttering, but he only grinned wider, his grip tightening, holding you in place. 

"You’ll tell me what I want to know," he promised, his fingers digging into your bruised skin. "Sooner or later."

The blade slid downward, slow, deliberate, tracing the delicate line of your jaw.

Then, it pressed in. A sharp, searing pain bloomed beneath your skin, and you gasped, body jerking instinctively, but the ropes held you tight, trapped.

A thin line of warm blood trickled down your cheek. He hummed in satisfaction. His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, slow, taunting. "Maybe I’ll give you some time to think about it," he mused, releasing you with a sharp shove.

…

Tommy paced the office like a caged animal, fingers tugging through his hair, his mind racing faster than his body could keep up.

The room was too small, too fucking suffocating, and the longer it took to get information, the more his chest tightened, the more his hands shook.

"Where the fuck is she?"

No one had an answer.

Tommy turned on John. "Who told you? Who gave you the fucking word?"

John swallowed, shifting on his feet. "A scout, one of our boys in Small Heath– he saw the wreckage. The guards, the driver… all dead, Tommy."

His stomach dropped.

Bodies.

But no mention of her.

He felt sick. Cold. A new kind of fear he hadn’t felt since the war clawed its way up his throat like bile. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus. If they had taken you alive, that meant they wanted something from you.

He had to find you. Now. A sharp knock on the door cut through the tense silence. Isaiah stepped in, breathless, eyes wide.

"We’ve got something."

Tommy’s head snapped up so fast his vision blurred.

"Where?"

Isaiah wiped a hand down his face, shaking his head. "We don’t know for sure, but one of the lads caught wind of a group setting up shop in an old distillery just outside the city– on the outskirts near the river."

"Who?" Tommy’s voice was deadly calm, but the way his hands shook slightly at his sides betrayed him.

Isaiah hesitated. "You’re not gonna like the answer, Tom."

Tommy’s chest tightened. "Say it," he demanded.

Isaiah exhaled. "Sabini’s men."

The room went deathly quiet.

Arthur swore, kicking the leg of a chair so hard it splintered.

Sabini.

That filthy fucking bastard had been waiting for an opportunity to strike, and Tommy had handed it to him on a silver fucking platter when he sent you away. Tommy felt his pulse roar in his ears, drowning out every other sound in the room.

He turned to Arthur. "Get everyone. We move now."

His brother didn’t hesitate. As Arthur stormed out, barking orders to the rest of the men, Tommy grabbed his coat, his revolver already in his hand.

He didn’t just want to kill them.

He wanted to wipe them from existence.

Because they had taken you.

And Thomas Shelby was going to burn the fucking city down to get you back.

…

Your wrists were raw from the ropes, skin rubbed red and torn from how hard you had fought– fought for nothing, fought for no one to come, fought just to survive another minute, another second.

You were too weak to fight anymore. Your entire body was screaming in agony, every nerve burning, every muscle aching with exhaustion.

Your stomach throbbed violently, a deep, searing pain radiating from one of the larger gashes that had been carved into your skin. You could still feel the sting of the blade as it sank into your flesh, the warm trickle of blood spilling down your ribs, soaking into the shredded remains of your clothes.

What was left of them, anyway.

Your dress had been ripped apart, torn from your body in jagged, humiliating shreds, exposing bruised, violated skin.

The men had touched you, their hands roaming, gripping, forcing you still, their laughter ringing in your ears as they stripped you down like you were nothing more than something to be used.

You had fought, God, you had fought, thrashing, kicking, but their hands had been stronger, crueler, unyielding.

Now, you could feel the cool air biting at your skin, the exposed places where they had left their marks– dark bruises, bloody scratches, shame carved into your very bones. Your arms shook, the fabric clinging to what was left of you, offering little protection, little dignity.

You felt disgusting.

Ruined.

And even though they had been interrupted before they could take it any further, the damage was already done.

The way they had laughed. Cruel, mocking, like your pain was amusing, like your struggle meant nothing.

"Shelby won’t want you now."

The words had sliced deeper than the knife, burrowing into your chest, your ribs, your bones.

"Damaged goods."

"Bet he won’t even look at you when we’re done."

It was all still there, burned into your mind, bleeding into your skin like an invisible brand you would never escape.

And your ribs– God, your ribs. Every inhale was a battle, every breath felt like knives digging into your sides, sharp and relentless. You didn’t know if they were bruised or broken, but the deep, throbbing ache that rattled through your chest made you certain that something was damaged beyond repair.

Even the slightest movement sent sharp, unbearable pain lancing through you, making your vision blur, making bile rise in your throat.

Your face was swollen, beaten, the metallic taste of blood thick on your tongue.

Your body flinched violently as hands roamed over you, rough fingers gripping, bruising, tearing fabric, exposing too much. A cruel chuckle ghosted over your ear.

"Not so tough now, are you?"

The words barely registered through the haze, but the hot breath against your skin did, the weight of a body pressing against you. Suffocating.

You turned your head, gasping sharply, choking on a sob as your body tried to shrink away, but the ropes held you firm, like an animal waiting for slaughter.

Another pair of hands gripped your thigh, fingers digging hard enough to bruise.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to disappear inside yourself, trying to will yourself into a place where this wasn’t happening, wasn’t real.

Then– footsteps, shouting.

Not inside the room, but outside.

The hands stilled.

More voices now, low, urgent, laced with something that sounded close to alarm.

"Go check it out," one of the men shouted.

A few of them grumbled, hesitating, as if reluctant to leave, but then another loud thud echoed from beyond the door, followed by the distant clatter of metal hitting the floor.

The man above you cursed, pushing off of you abruptly, leaving behind a nauseating heat where his body had been pressing against yours.

"Fucking deal with her," he ordered the one who stayed behind before storming toward the door.

You heard them shuffle out, their boots heavy against the floor, the door creaking as it was pulled shut behind them. One remained. 

Then– Gunfire. A sharp, brutal crack shook the walls. The man froze. Another shot. Then another. Shouts of panic cried outside the door, the unmistakable sound of bodies hitting the ground. And then the door burst open.

The man barely had time to turn, barely had time to lift his knife, barely had time to do anything, before a bullet tore through his skull, the shot echoing like thunder.

His body crumpled to the floor.

More boots pounded into the room. Your swollen, half-lidded eyes struggled to focus, your mind fading in and out, but you knew– you knew those voices. Someone dropped to their knees beside you.

"Fuck– It’s her." The voice was urgent, but familiar. "She’s alive. Love, it’s me– it’s John. Can ya hear me?"

He moved to untie you, but you let out a small, broken noise. Weakly, you tried to turn away, as if you could somehow hide your exposed body from him– hide from what had been done to you.

"Shit– someone get her a coat, something!" John hollered. 

More hurried voices. More boots scuffing against the ground.

Then a voice rang out. "Get out of the fucking way!"

The tone was raw, shaking with rage, sharp enough to cut through the chaos like a knife. Everyone moved aside instantly.

Tommy’s blue eyes locked onto you, widening as he took in the bruises, the gash on your stomach leaking blood, the torn fabric barely covering your body.

Then, under his breath, so low it was barely a whisper, he muttered, "Jesus Christ.” 

His coat was off his shoulders in an instant. He crouched down and carefully draped it over you, covering as much of your exposed skin as he could. The weight of it should’ve been comforting, should’ve felt like protection, but you flinched. The sudden movement sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through your body, making your breath hitch sharply in your throat. Tommy’s jaw tightened. His hands hovered, like he was unsure if touching you would only make things worse.

John knelt beside him, fingers moving to quickly undo the ropes. 

Your body swayed forward as the last rope fell away, your muscles too weak to hold you upright, but Tommy’s hands shot out instantly, catching you before you could collapse completely. He felt the way you tensed. The way your body tried to shrink away, as if you weren’t sure whether his hands were safe ones or not. 

“Can you walk?” His voice was low, controlled, but his heart was fucking pounding.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t even manage to look up at him– like you didn’t even register his question.

Your head hung limply forward, resting weakly against his shoulder. Your breath came in shallow bursts as the weight of exhaustion and pain dragged you down.

That was all the answer he needed. Without hesitation, he scooped you up into his arms. The moment he lifted you, a sharp, strangled cry tore from your throat as the wound on your stomach pinched.

“I got you,” The sound of your pain sent a violent shudder through Tommy’s body, his grip instinctively tightening. “I know, love. I know.”

Your head lolled against his chest, another small whimper escaping your lips as his arms adjusted their hold, careful but unrelenting. His breath was uneven as he stood, keeping you pressed tightly against him, shielding you as much as he could.

Your pain was his pain now.

Your suffering was his burden to bear.

And he was going to make every last one of those bastards suffer for what they had done to you.

The night air was cold, but Tommy barely felt it. His grip on you didn’t waver, his arms locking you against his chest, shielding you from the world as he carried you through the bloodstained corridors of the warehouse.

Every step he took was controlled, deliberate, but inside he was barely holding it together. You were too still, your body too limp in his arms. 

“Almost there," he murmured, his voice softer than he’d ever let it be, barely audible beneath the pounding of his own heart.

You didn’t respond. But when his arms shifted slightly, having to adjust his hold as he stepped over a body on the ground, you let out a small whimper of pain. His grip tightened instinctively.

"Shh," he soothed, his lips brushing against your temple, voice raw. "I’ve got you."

The car was waiting outside, its headlights cutting through the darkness, and the backseat door already open. Arthur was barking orders to the men, his voice clipped and deadly, but the moment Tommy stepped outside, all movement stopped. The others watched as he carried you– silent, grim, waiting.

They had seen Tommy Shelby furious before.

But this was something else entirely.

Without a word, Tommy laid you down in the backseat, before climbing in himself. He adjusted his coat so that it covered you again before guiding your head to rest more comfortably on his lap. 

The door slammed shut and the engine roared to life. The moment the car jolted forward, you let out another soft whimper, your fingers weakly reaching for him. 

"It’s alright," he murmured, as his hand brushed through your matted hair. "You’re alright."

You heard his words, but they felt far away… like a voice carried through water, muffled, distant. Your head shifted slightly against his lap as you forced your swollen eyes open. 

And then you saw it.

Blood.

Deep red, seeping through the white fabric of his shirt, thick and dark, staining the material all the way down to his waist. Your breath hitched. For a second, you didn’t understand. Your dazed mind struggled to catch up, struggled to process how he might’ve gotten hurt. 

Then it clicked. It wasn’t his blood.

It was yours.

Your fingers twitched weakly, brushing against the soaked fabric.

"Tommy–"

The word came out slurred, almost inaudible.

His hands tensed around you instantly. "I’m here, love," he said quickly, his voice sharper now, urgent. "I’m right here."

Your vision blurred. The world was tilting again. The blood, so much blood– 

"Tommy, am I dying?"

His arms tightened around you, his grip firm, protective, as if holding you together was enough to keep you here. 

"No," he said immediately, but there was something frantic beneath his voice now, something breaking. "No, you’re not dying. You’re alright."

You blinked slowly, the exhaustion dragging you down. 

Tommy turned his head sharply.

"Drive faster," he snapped, his voice thick with something close to desperation.

Arthur was already pushing the car to its limit, the tires kicking up dirt and gravel as they sped toward home. Tommy’s hand cradled your cheek, his thumb stroking gently along your skin, even as his grip shook.

"You’re alright. But you have to stay awake," he said, almost pleadingly. 

You tried. And really, you wanted to. 

But the last thing you felt before the darkness pulled you under was the way his fingers trembled against your skin.

…

You felt the car lurch to a stop, the tires skidding against the dirt, but the world around you was hazy, your body heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and pain.

You jolted further awake when Tommy shifted, pulling you onto his lap before he pushed the door open.

Then, a rush of cold air. Sharp as it bit at your skin. Tommy stepped out, his grip on you unwavering, unrelenting. There were voices, then footsteps. The sound of boots pounding against the ground. 

Polly’s familiar voice. "Oh, my girl," she gasped. “What have they done to her?”

You tried to lift your head, to focus, but your vision swam, the world tilting in and out of darkness. 

Polly was moving fast, her skirt rustling as she rushed toward you, her hands reaching for you before you even realized what was happening.

"Get her inside," she ordered, her tone sharp, controlled, but beneath it there was fear.

Tommy didn’t hesitate. You felt the urgency in his body, the tension coiling tight in his arms as he carried you up the steps, past the doorway, into the dim warmth of the house.

Everything was spinning. 

When he set you down, the wound in your stomach pinched and a warm rush of liquid poured from it. You clutched at it– felt the blood pooling between your fingers. 

"Tommy, put some pressure on that!" Polly’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding.

Your breath hitched, your body already trembling from exhaustion, from blood loss, from the deep, horrible throbbing wrapping around your ribs like a vice.

Tommy moved instantly, his hands already reaching for you. You felt him brush your hands away before pressing a towel firmly against the open wound on your stomach. 

The moment the pressure hit, white-hot pain exploded through you.

You screamed.

 Your body arched off the mattress, hands flying to his wrist, gripping hard, your nails digging into his skin, trying to push him away.

"I know," Tommy rasped without budging, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like he might break his teeth.

You tried to twist away, but his hands didn’t move, didn’t falter, didn’t let up.

Your vision swam, a high-pitched ringing buzzing in your ears, agony coiling through your body like fire, licking up your ribs, burning through your spine.

Polly was moving fast, grabbing bandages, ripping fabric, preparing whatever she needed, but all you could focus on was the pressure, the unbearable weight of Tommy’s hands pressing against your stomach.

"Fuck," Tommy cursed under his breath. "Pol, do something. Help her–"

"I need supplies, Tommy," Polly snapped. "I need you to go get them."

You saw Tommy hesitate.

"Tom," Polly’s voice was firmer now, demanding. "Go. Now."

A beat. Then, the pressure on your stomach lifted as he moved away. The moment Tommy’s hands left your body, you felt the loss like a cruel snap of cold air.

Your breath hitched, your body instinctively tensing, but Polly’s hands were already there, replacing his. 

She pressed tightly against the wound, and fresh agony ripped through you, another strangled cry spilling from your lips.

"Shh, darling," Polly murmured, her voice softer now, gentler than before, but still edged with urgency. "I know, I know. We’re going to get you all fixed up."

You let out a soft, weak noise as Tommy moved, as if your body somehow knew it was losing its only source of warmth, of safety.

"I’ll be right back," Tommy’s voice was hoarse, raw, full of something broken.

And then, the door swung shut. 

Your fingers clutched weakly at the sheets, your body writhing slightly, trying to escape the searing pain, but Polly held firm. "Easy," she murmured, one hand moving up to smooth your hair back from your face, her touch gentle despite the blood coating her fingers. "Just breathe."

You tried. But every inhale sent sharp daggers through your ribs, every second felt like your body was tearing itself apart.

"That’s it," Polly encouraged, even as her hands remained firm, even as she continued pressing into the wound. "Just keep breathing, sweetheart."

Footsteps. A door swinging open.

Then, his voice.

"Here," Tommy said, sounding breathless as he stormed back into the room. His hands were full of supplies.

Polly barely glanced up. "Put them on the table."

He did, his movements fast and urgent. But the moment he turned back to you, his face fell.

His blue eyes flickered to the blood pooling around Polly’s hands, to the torn fabric soaked with red, and then, to your face.

Your body was trembling, your breath coming shaky and weak, your skin far too pale.

Tommy’s hands curled into fists. Polly looked at him before releasing the pressure on your wound.

"It’s not clotting," she said, flat, grim. Polly exhaled sharply, grabbing the needle and thread. "We’ll have to stitch it up."

His jaw clenched, his throat working around words he couldn’t say, his hands hovering uselessly at his sides. Without a word, he took his place back beside you, his hands finding your shoulders, his grip steady, firm, unyielding.

Polly met his gaze. "Hold her down."

And with agony in his eyes, he did.

A sharp, searing sensation that tore through your body like fire, ripping you from the darkness and into the cruel reality of the moment. Your eyes flew open, your breath catching instantly as a white-hot, unbearable sting shot through your stomach.

A scream tore from your throat before you even knew what was happening.

"Keep her from moving!" Polly’s voice was urgent, firm, cutting through the haze of pain and confusion as she clutched the bottle of alcohol she was using to clean your wounds.

Then, strong hands gripped your shoulders.

"Shh, love, I know, I know."

Tommy pinned you down, his weight pressing against you just enough to keep you still, but not enough to hurt you.

You fought against it anyway, your body thrashing violently, panic and agony blurring together as Polly’s hands worked quickly, pressing something sharp against your skin. Another wave of pain crashed through you, and you sobbed, gasping, your body twisting uselessly beneath Tommy’s grip. 

"Please–" Your voice cracked, weak and frantic, as the burning sensation only grew worse. “Please, stop–”

Tommy’s grip tightened, his breath harsh against your ear as he whispered, "I know,” he repeated. “You have to let her do this."

You couldn’t do it, couldn’t bear the pain, the sting, the relentless wave of agony pressing down on every nerve in your body.

But Tommy wasn’t letting go. His hands stayed firm, keeping you still as Polly continued, her voice clipped, professional– but you could hear the pain in it too.

"It’ll be over soon," she murmured, but it barely reached you over the sound of your own ragged sobs.

Another sharp pain seared through your ribs, and your body arched violently, another broken cry ripping from your throat. Your fingers latched onto Tommy’s arm, gripping him so tightly your nails dug into his skin.

He didn’t flinch.

His voice was hoarse, desperate, like this was hurting him just as much as it was hurting you. "I got you," he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. "I’m right here, love. Just hold on. Just hold on."

But you couldn’t.

You felt yourself slipping away, the pain too much, too unbearable.

Your sobs grew softer, weaker, until the darkness swallowed you whole.

…

Sleep clung to you like a heavy shroud, pulling you under, keeping you trapped beneath the surface.

But then… voices.

Low, hushed, urgent.

You weren’t awake, not really. But the words drifted through the haze, barely reaching you, like an echo through water.

"I don’t know what happened in that room," Polly said, soft but grave, laced with something heavy, unspoken. "But our girl was hurt beyond what the eye can see."

There was silence– so suffocating that you could feel it settle over the room like a funeral shroud.

Then, Tommy’s voice, low, rough, dangerous in a way you had never heard before.

"What are you saying, Pol?"

A pause.

"You saw the bruises on her thighs, Tommy. The way her clothes were torn."

The words barely registered before a deep, unbearable shame clawed its way up your throat.

You wanted to pull the blanket tighter around you– to disappear, vanish, sink back into the darkness where none of this was real.

But your body wouldn’t listen. Your fingers twitched, barely moving against the sheets. Another silence. Longer this time. Heavier.

Then, Tommy’s voice, but it was different now. Not sharp, not angry. Shaken.

“Jesus Christ."

Another pause.

Then, a sound you never thought you’d hear from Tommy Shelby. A shaky exhale, almost like a breath that had been trapped in his chest for too long, forced out in a way that wasn’t entirely controlled.

You wanted to open your eyes.

Wanted to reach for him, for Polly, for something that made you feel whole again.

But your body was too broken, and your mind was too tired.

…

The room was quiet when you woke up.

Not the kind of peaceful quiet that brought comfort, but the kind that felt hollow, empty, like something had been ripped away. Your body felt heavy, every inch of you aching, wrapped in a deep, throbbing pain that radiated from your ribs, your face, your legs.

For a moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe too deeply.

Just listened.

The soft crackling of the fireplace. The distant murmurs of voices downstairs. The faint scent of whiskey, tobacco, and something familiar lingering in the air.

Then, movement

Your eyes shifted, and that’s when you saw him.

Tommy.

He was sitting in a chair beside the bed, his head bowed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together like he had been praying but never finished the prayer.

His hair was disheveled, his coat abandoned somewhere, his sleeves rolled up. He looked worn down.  Like he had been carrying too much weight for far too long.

Your throat felt tight. When you shifted slightly, trying to ease the ache in your body, the mattress creaked softly beneath you.

Tommy’s head snapped up instantly. His blue eyes locked onto you, and for a brief second they widened, raw and unguarded, before he jolted forward, hurrying to your side.

"Hey–" His voice was rough, low with exhaustion, relief, and something deeper, something broken. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m here. I’m right here.” 

You tried to speak, but nothing came out. Your throat tightened painfully, your lips parting as if to form words, but all that came was silence. Then– tears. Hot, silent tears spilled over your cheeks, streaking down your skin before you could stop them.

Tommy’s breath hitched, his face contorting slightly, as if the sight of you like this physically hurt him.

"Hey," he repeated, his hands reaching up, cupping your face carefully, his thumbs wiping away the tears as fast as they fell. "It’s alright. You’re alright."

But you weren’t. And you both knew it.

More tears spilled, your body trembling despite the warmth of the blankets, despite the fact that Tommy’s hands were steady, firm, and safe. You let out a weak, shaky exhale, your breath stuttering.

Tommy’s jaw tensed, the pad of his thumb still brushing along your cheek.

"You’re safe now," he whispered, his forehead nearly pressing against yours. "You hear me?"

You closed your eyes and nodded weakly, but the tears kept falling. They wouldn’t stop– wouldn’t slow, no matter how hard you tried to breathe through it, to swallow it down, to push it away like it wasn’t happening.

His hands never left your face, gentle, steady, as if he thought you might shatter completely if he let go.

He watched you closely, his expression tight, unreadable, but his eyes gave him away. They were soft. Without a word, Tommy shifted, slowly, carefully, and sat on the edge of the bed. His weight made the mattress dip. And then, he reached for you. Not all at once. Not suddenly. Just gently. One of his arms slid behind your back, the other under your legs, his movements slow, deliberate, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t.  So, when he finally pulled you into him, when he gathered you against his chest, you just let him. Because the desire to be held so gently by him outweighed the pain in your stomach. 

A soft, shuddering sob broke from your throat the second your face pressed into his shoulder. His arms tightened and his chest rose and fell beneath you.

"I’ve got you," he said.

You just cried harder. Cried into his shirt, into his chest, into the only thing that felt remotely safe.

And Tommy just held you.

Like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

… 

The hands were everywhere. Gripping, clawing, pressing against your skin.

Hot breath ghosted over your ear, cruel laughter filling the darkness as rough fingers bruised their way over your body.

"Not so tough now, are you?" 

You thrashed, but you were trapped, bound, helpless. No matter how hard you fought, kicked, screamed, you couldn’t get away.

"Shelby won’t want you now."

"Damaged goods."

"Bet he won’t even look at you when we’re done."

No. No, please.

You screamed.

You jerked awake violently, gasping, drenched in sweat, heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape. The room was dark, shadows stretching across the walls, but the nightmare was still there, lingering, suffocating.

A figure moved beside you, reaching for you–  Too close. Too fast.

"Don’t fucking touch me!" The words ripped from your throat before you even registered them, your voice sharp, frantic, trembling with terror. 

"Hey, hey, hey. It’s me. It’s just me."

You sucked in a sharp breath, your pulse roaring in your ears as the terror began to splinter, reality bleeding through the nightmare. Your eyes darted to his face.

Not them.

Tommy.

A shuddering sob broke from your lips as you reached forward. Tommy caught you immediately, his arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly but carefully.

"Shh, you’re alright," he murmured against your hair. "You’re safe. I’ve got you."

His warmth grounded you, but the nightmare still clung to you like poison, lingering in your skin, in your bones. You inhaled, your cheek resting against the curve between his shoulder and neck. His scent wrapped around you, familiar and safe. He smelled of whiskey, tobacco, gunpowder, something darker, something uniquely him.

The fabric of his shirt was soft, worn, and beneath it, you could feel the subtle heat of his skin, along with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was faster than usual, uneven, like he wasn’t as composed as he wanted to be.

The silence stretched between you for a long time, a heavy, fragile thing hanging in the air.

Then, Tommy’s voice finally broke it. "What did they do to you?"

You stiffened. Every muscle in your body locked up, panic flaring hot in your chest. Your breath shook, your fingers twisting into his shirt as your mind raced, panicked, hesitated. 

If he knew, would he still want you?

"Shelby won’t want you now."

"Damaged goods."

"Bet he won’t even look at you when we’re done." 

The cruel messages from the men lingered in the forefront of your mind. You were damaged. Used. Broken. What if he’d see you differently now? What if he never touched you the same again? What if he’d– 

"Please,” he cut in. “I have to know." 

Slowly, you swallowed, your throat tight, aching, before you finally forced the words past your lips. "They–" your voice was barely a whisper. "They touched me, Tommy."

The air in the room shifted as Tommy stiffened. Then his jaw clenched, his breath sharp and ragged through his nose. Before you could process it, he was moving. Standing up and turning toward the door. For a second, your brain didn’t register it– or understand.

Then, it hit you. 

He was leaving… Heading straight for the door. Panic slammed into your chest, raw and frantic.

"Tommy–" Your voice broke, but he didn’t stop.

No, no, no– 

"I’m sorry, I– I tried," you choked out, your throat burning, your hands reaching for him but too weak to move from the bed. "I swear, I fought. I– I should’ve fought harder, I–"

Tommy froze in place.

You didn’t realize you were crying again, but the words kept spilling out, rushed and broken, desperate to keep him here, to explain how hard you fought. "I’m sorry," you gasped, barely able to breathe. "Please– please, don’t go– don’t leave me– I’m so sorry–"

Tommy turned sharply, crossing the room in two strides, and then, his hands were on your face, cradling you, forcing you to look at him.

"No." His voice was firm, steady, but his eyes… His eyes were shining, raw, and shattered. "This is not your fault."

Your breath hitched, but he didn’t let go.

"I should’ve been there," he whispered, voice thick with agony, regret, fury… at himself, at the men who did this, at everything. "You hear me? I should’ve been there. And I should never have sent you away. I was wrong. And I’m so fucking sorry."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Tommy wiped it away with his thumb, his touch careful.

“I thought–” you stammered. “I thought you were going to leave.”

"Christ, I’m not leaving you love," he murmured, his voice so quiet, so broken it nearly undid you completely. "I just–" he swallowed thickly, his jaw tightening. "I want to go back there and kill every last one of those bastards for what they did to you."

You closed your eyes, your body shaking, exhausted, drained. But when you leaned forward, Tommy caught you instantly, pulling you into him, holding you tightly against his chest.

"Please stay," you whispered, your voice thin, fragile, desperate. "Please, Tommy– don’t go."

His hands tensed against your face, thumbs still brushing against your cheekbones, his blue eyes searching yours, reading every ounce of fear buried beneath the words.

"I’m not going anywhere, love," he murmured, his voice low, rough with emotion, as if saying the words out loud solidified them in stone.

A quiet, broken noise escaped your throat– not quite a sob, not quite relief, but something in between.

His hands slipped down, his arms gathering you close. Your forehead pressed against his chest, his warmth grounding you.

He dipped his head, his lips brushing against your temple, barely a whisper of contact, but the weight of it was enough.

"I never should’ve sent you away," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still laced with the guilt he would never forgive himself for. "And I promise you, love, I won’t make that mistake again."

Your fingers weakly clung to his shirt, your body melting against him as the last of your strength gave out. 

And Tommy held you together.

[blushsturns]

Cling, whiny Matt who just wants his girlfriends attention so bad

title: down bad

warnings: this work contains graphic content, but it is all consensual! sub!matt, titty play, lots of touching, kissing, unprotected p in v, tons of whining, pure filth.

w/c: 3150

matt was feeling extra clingy today. he knew you had to get ready for work in a couple minutes and he didn’t want you to leave at all. you had a short shift today, but any time spent apart from you made him miss you terribly.

he wrapped his arms around your middle to pull you closer to his body, an attempt to keep you close and secure against his chest so you were locked in his embrace.

“please don’t go, baby. i need you.” matt whined against the nape of your neck, breathing in your intoxicating scent and peppering soft kisses against your delicate skin.

you hummed softly at the feeling of his lips against your skin with your arms wrapping around his neck, your fingers moving up to tangle through his tousled locks. “baby, you know i have work in an hour.”

“not if you call in sick, mama.” his whiny voice almost made you feel bad, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. he didn’t want you to go and it seemed like he would do everything in his power to make sure you stay right here in his arms with him and not go anywhere.

to be honest, you loved seeing matt like this; clingy, soft, whiny, damn near submissive. it was like you had this powerful capability to make matt feel this way and you loved every second of it.

“matty, you know i can’t do that. they need me, remember?” you ran your fingers through his hair as you stared down at him, your chest pressed up against his to allow a bit of cleavage from your tank top to be visible to his ocean blue eyes.

his eyes scanned down to your chest, his eyes widening in surprise as your pretty plump cleavage is on display for his eyes only. he gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing in the process as his eyes stay fixated on your chest. he fucking loved your tits. he loved playing with them, sucking on them, biting and marking them with little love bites. he could sleep on them all night instead of his pillow if he could.

you watched him stare at you longingly, your lips curving up into a devious smirk. normally this kind of thing would make your body melt and your heart swoon, but when matt was acting clingy, it was hard not to baby him and allow him to fully let his submissive side show.

he looked back up at you and into your eyes with a shy smile evident on his face. “but i need you more, baby. please stay with me?” his words came out of his mouth like a desperate plea, begging you to stay home with him and not go anywhere at all. he moved his hands to grip onto your hips to hold your body in place against him, the pass of his thumbs rubbing smooth, slow circles against your exposed hip bones underneath the fabric of your tank top.

it pulled on your heart strings to hear him beg like this and all because he didn’t want you to leave. a soft sigh emits from your lips before eventually giving in and nodding your head at his question. “okay, i’ll stay with you since you’re so persistent on needing me.” you flashed him a slight smirk, your hand moving away from his hair and down to his cheek, caressing the slight stubble with the pad of your thumb. “my precious boy.”

matt’s cheeks grow warm, a slight pink tint forming against his cheekbones as a wide smile appears onto his face. he pulls you even closer to him, his lips back on your neck as he murmurs his undying gratitude for you, thanking you for staying with him.

with his body so close up against yours, you begin to notice the slight poke pressing against your thigh in between your bodies. you didn’t even have to ask what it was, or take a peak between the both of you. matt was growing hard in the fabric of his sweatpants and boxers and it immediately made heat pool into your tummy at how rapidly it happened.

you moved your hand in between the both of you, your smirk only widening as you immediately grasp onto the hardening bulge in his pants with the palm of your hand. “is this what you meant by needing me, matty?” you quirk your eyebrow up at him, a teasingly sly smirk staying present on your lips.

he nodded his head, his cheeks only growing a darker shade of red and radiating heat as the seconds pass. he bit down onto his bottom lip nervously before back up at you, flashing you a shy smile. “yes, but i also always need you, baby.”

you shake your head in disbelief and click your tongue, a soft laugh emitting from your lips. “kinda pathetic don’t you think? poor baby can’t even spend a couple hours without me and goes hard for me within seconds.” your hand grasps onto his cock in his sweatpants as you begin to palm him through the fabric which causes a low moan to leave his lips.

matt immediately pushes his hips up into the touch of your hand, his breathing beginning to become heavier as the seconds pass by. “mama, please.” he whines out in a desperate plea, his hands moving up your shirt underneath the fabric of your tank top and instantly cups your breasts through the fabric of your bra. his hand tugs your bra down and immediately uses the pads of his thumbs to run across your hardened nipples. “need it.”

his touch made you gasp softly with a shudder running down your spine at the sensation rolling through you. you felt your underwear through your shorts becoming drenched with your own slick arousal, the familiar heat pooling in your tummy. “need what, hm?” you asked him as you look up at him with darkened eyes and lust filling your gaze.

you pulled away only slightly so you can slip your own shirt off and unclasp your bra to get it out of the way, throwing it onto the ground carelessly. he took the initiative to remove his own shirt as well. your breasts press up against his now bare chest, your hand moving back down to grasp his evident hardening cock through the fabric of his sweatpants.

a whiny moan escaped his lips as your hand made contact with his cock once again. what a desperate, needy thing. the tip of his cock was leaking precum and managed to leave a wet spot right in the front of his sweatpants. his cock twitched beneath your hand as you continued to palm him through the fabric, your eyes focusing in on your own movements of your hand against him. the wet spot on his pants was just a reminder of how needy he truly was for you and only made your pussy throb with the thrill of excitement.

“need you, mama. want you to ride me and take full control. please?” he whined out desperately, rutting his hips effortlessly into your hand and let out a hiss through clenched teeth followed by a breathy moan as you squeezed his hardened cock.

it was like it was his body became weightless, or maybe you just somehow gained the amount of strength you needed as you pushed him flat down onto his back and immediately crawled between his legs as you perched yourself up onto your knees. you flashed him a sly smirk, licking over your lips hungrily as you stared him up and down, scanning over his beautiful body in front of you. “such a needy little thing aren’t you, baby?” you cooed teasingly, bringing your fingers up to place underneath the hem of his sweatpants and his boxers to pull them down his legs and off his body.

his hardened, leaking cock immediately sprung free, making your mouth practically water. the tip of his cock was shiny and pink, leaking with precum. you immediately wrapped your fingers around his cock from the base and moving up to his tip, the pad of your thumb running across his leaking tip to smear the precum against his shaft to lather him up.

you brought your thumb up to your own lips and immediately placed it between your lips to get a taste of his sweet, indulgent taste. you moaned at the taste as you flicked your tongue against your thumb to lick it clean. your own pussy throbs in excitement and making your panties soaked from your glistening wet arousal.

he watched you in awe as you seemed to be enjoying yourself fully, sucking on your own thumb with the taste of him on you. you pulled your thumb away from your lips with a sight pop, flashing him a slight smirk. “taste so good for me, baby, but i think we need to see if you can handle this pussy all around your precious, pretty cock. what do you say, hm?” you pulled your shorts and underwear off your body, a slight gasp emitting from your lips from feeling how fucking soaked you are, your glistening wet arousal now on full display.

his eyes scan your body before falling onto your beautiful pussy in front of him, a soft whine leaving his lips. “such a pretty fucking pussy, baby. look at her.” he cooed eagerly as he stared at your dripping center, licking over his own lips hungrily.

you giggle softly, a light pink tint creeps onto your cheeks at his words before moving your body over to his waist to straddle him and immediately began grinding your slick arousal against his groin. the feel of his hardened cock probing at your thigh was driving you insane but you wanted to keep working him up until he was a crying, whiny mess.

your heart was beating rapidly in your chest from the anticipation as you continued to grind your pussy against him, the friction making you moan and allow you to throw your head back against your shoulder. he was enjoying this, using one of his hands to grip your hip and the other to travel down in between your legs to run his middle finger along your glistening wet folds. he groaned as his finger immediately becomes coated with your slick arousal. your eyes fall shut, a soft moan leaving your lips at the feeling of his finger against your soaking wet folds.

he pulls your body closer to him so that your breasts are flush against his chest. matt moves his hand away from your center and brings his finger to your lips which you gladly accept. you grab onto his wrist as his finger slides into your mouth, your tongue rolling along your own slick arousal that coated his finger moaning softly in satisfaction at the taste. he watched you in complete and utter awe, his cock twitching against your thigh in anticipation. you pull his finger out of your mouth with a soft pop sound, flashing him a soft smirk before licking over your own lips to taste your sweet juices. “damn no wonder we make such a hot couple. we both taste good as fuck.”

you leaned down to press your lips against his deeply so he can get a taste of you on your own lips. he moaned into the kiss, kissing you passionately and deeply, full of want and desire. you began to suck onto his bottom lip, your teeth nibbling against his bottom lip as he parts his lips to allow permission for your tongue to slide through. your tongues battle for dominance, both of your combined muffled moans leaving an echo throughout the four walls.

matt moves his hand to cup your breast, his thumb rubbing your hardened nipple in slow circles before tweaking it with his index finger causing a louder moan to escape your lips and your body to grind forward against him. “fuck.” you whisper breathlessly as you pull away from his lips to catch your labored breathing, your forehead resting onto his. “you gonna beg for me, sweet boy?”

he nods his head at your words, his breathing also heavy as he ruts his hips against you, his cock probing against your thigh repeatedly. he groans at the friction, his cock twitching immensely by the second. “need to feel you around me, mama. please. want to feel your tight, soaking wet pussy around my cock. need it so bad, please.” his words spilled out of his mouth as pleas, whines emitting from his lips right after as you immediately grasp onto his aching hard cock and begin aiming it directly to your soaking wet cunt, rubbing his tip up and down against your drooling pussy.

you could continue to tease him a bit more, but your own pussy was throbbing immensely to the point where it felt like complete and utter torture. you decided to give in to his pleas, since they were only turning you on even more. without hesitation, you sink down onto his cock inch by inch until he’s suddenly buried inside of you. your eyes widened in surprise as you get used to the fullness inside of you, a soft moan leaving your lips.

matt immediately throws his head back against the pillow behind him, gripping onto your waist as your legs spread on top of him to straddle him comfortably. “fuck, ma.” he groaned out, his fingers digging into your hip bones causing you to moan out in pleasure, your eyes slipping closed. you lean your head onto your shoulder as you begin to move your hips up and down against him, feeling him slide even deeper inside of you.

your tight walls immediately clench around his thickness as you start to ride him, bouncing up and down onto his cock as you feel his cock twitching and throbbing inside of you. “oh fuck, you’re so big aren’t you baby? filling me up so nice and full.” your voice was full of need, desire, lust. his cock felt so good around you, like it was made just for you.

you opened up your eyes to watch him as he laid there and grabbed ahold of your hips to hold you place as you bounced onto his cock, the bed squeaking and the headboard ramming into the wall. he moved his hand up to your chest to grasp onto your breast as they jiggled and bounced around with each and every thrust of your hips. he tweaked and tugged onto your hardened nipple as an enticing moan falls from your lips.

“oh fuck, mama. feel so good.” he moaned out, both of his hands now grabbing ahold of your pretty tits and pulling and tweaking your hardened nipples as you bounce up and down onto his hardened cock causing heat to pool in your tummy and electricity to course through your veins.

you roll your hips against him, stuttering your hips for a moment to feel him slide even deeper inside of you until he begins to hit your g-spot at a rapidly rising pace, a louder moan leaving your lips. “bet you love this don’t you? would’ve missed this tight little pussy if i went to work.” your words come out within breathless gasps, your hands moving to his shoulders to hold yourself up, your blunt fingernails digging into his skin causing him to groan out in pleasure.

he moves his hand to your center, his index and middle finger finding your swollen, soaking wet clit and begins to rub it at a furious pace, making your moans become louder, more erratic. “fuck, matty!” you scream out, throwing your head back while your heart beats rapidly in your chest, sweat glistening across your chest and your forehead.

matt whines as he continues to rub your clit in time with your thrusts, his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again. “c-can i cum, mama? need to cum.”

you could hear how wet you were, your gummy walls clenching around his cock each and every time you bounced down onto his cock. louder moans escaped your lips, fire coursing throughout your veins. your orgasm was rapidly approaching and you weren’t sure how much longer you were going to last. your fingers digging into his skin as you held onto him while continuing to ride him. you roll your hips along him, feeling his cock sliding in and out of your tight heat. you move your head up to press your lips against his once again, murmuring against them, “yes, baby, you can cum. gonna cum in my tight little pussy baby? you know you want to. come on, be a good boy and fill me up with your cum.”

matt groans out in pure ecstasy, his body shaking against you as he thrusts his hips up into yours several times, his vision going white as he throws his head back to allow a string of profanities and groans to leave his lips. “f-fuck!” he whined out desperately as he begins to fill you up with his cum to the brim, his head lolling to the side as he shakes through his intense orgasm.

“good boy, that’s my good boy. so good for me.” you moan out breathlessly, your body shaking as you feel the same familiar sensation forming in the pit of your tummy. he continued to rub your clit in fast, haste circles while you continue to roll your hips against him. “i’m gonna cum baby.” you groan out your words, rolling your hips along. you feel the pressure snap inside of you and suddenly the pleasure intensifies as your gummy walls clench tightly around his cock, milking him completely and utterly dry.

your vision goes white while your eyes close, your orgasm rolls through you, a string of moans leaves your lips while he rubs your swollen clit to rock you through your intense orgasm.

your body shakes against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold yourself up, your breathing fairly labored as you cling onto him, your glistening skin sticking against his as you hold him tightly. he presses soft kisses to the nape of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, letting out a soft whine while holding your body close. “i’m so glad you stayed home with me today. thank you, my love.”

“you’re just down bad for me aren’t you, baby?” you ask him as you pull away from his neck to flash him a teasing smirk, your fingers moving up to run through his tousled locks.

“mm, always.” he replies with a wide grin, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before continuing, “never leave me and this bed.”

you weren’t planning on it. ever.

maybe you were down bad, too.

notes: thank you for the request! send any requests to my inbox! thank you for reading! love you guys.

taglist:

@sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @poppingmypussy4chris @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @y3sterdaysproblem @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos @moustacherryismyhusband @rafesapprentice @ivysturnss @headzgonewest @strawberryghost3 @il0vey0um0st @violetstxrniolo777 @bigbeefybitch @raesturns @courta13 @sofieeeeex @tylerthecreatorsglazr @kittyyyyykats @sturniolochrismatt

-nessa ღ

[smallpwbbles]

ANALYSIS ON THE TINY JAX AU

(I'm sorry for making it long)

1.) So is the R.Jax and T.Jax situation is like Dissociative identity disorder (DID)? because they only communicate to eachother when they disociate/sleep as we have seen in the newest part of the au

If this is the case that means that the switch happens after dissociation

↓

2.) Also when the other characters say that he went "quiet" for a long period of time are they referring to dissociation or the upset type of quiet???

3.) And you have explained in early post of the AU that when T.Jax is in control the eyes look like this:

And when R.Jax is in control the eyes look normal

And it's also really easy to differentiate which Jax is in control based off of their behaviour.

So

This means both are in control at the same time, right?

Or are they both there in control but they don't have to use dissociation to switch to who's controlling the body?

(really existed to see how the rest of the AU plays out)

Holy shit this is such a neat analysis, my intention wasn’t to portray a DID situation, I don’t have it or know much about it so I’d be worried about not portraying it properly but a lot of you see it that way and I have no qualms with yall calling the situation Reg. Jax and T.Jax that.

Basically when the glitch first started Jax was in complete control but then he did not listen to Caines instructions to behave himself and the glitch registered his age of that of a 4-6 year old so his mind was forced to regress to what the glitch code was the correct age creating the Tiny Jax personality.

Also they were referring to an upset kind of quiet.

And yeah because Reg.Jax tried to get “rid” of T.Jax their kinda both in control and by that they switch personalities so quickly instead of one being in control for a couple hours, it’s just a headache for him before one of them takes control again.

[firstruleofmethclub]

I know this isn't technically the tags, but it's because I'm gonna put something else in the tags.

I think that a lot of what is really "worst" movies that are out there are the sort that were made on shoestring budgets. Some microbudget movies are genuinely really good, but a lot just aren't. Often the movies that just don't have a single likeable thing in them are made this way, and getting through them is just a chore. (I'll put a list of some of the most egregious ones in the tags).

But "nothing I liked" is outclassed by "something I HATED". And it's to bigger budgets we turn for things like that. Movies that evoke genuine, roiling anger. Even if they maybe had a likeable person in them, or an arguably good performance, or a good sequence, or a cool design, over all they just infuriate you, and have you shouting "WHY" at the screen. That's the sort of thing you're more likely to find in macrobudget (or when it's in lower cost brackets, it's usually lower cost Oscar-bait).

For mine I think it's a tie between Transformers 4 and Transformers 5. Of the two, I did objectively spend much more of my time in the latter being completely bewildered and saying out loud "Why?? Why is this happening??" than I did in the former. But Transformer's 4 has that thing where they stop the movie dead to look directly into the camera and say "Hey adults in the audience, it's actually cool and normal to have sex with teenagers, here's a legal precedent if you're worried about those pesky 'law' things getting in the way", so, sixawun I guess.

What would you guys consider the worst movie you've ever seen? Not something that's fun to make fun of, nothing you ironically enjoyed, I mean just an absolutely miserable moviegoing experience that you paid for, hated every second, and wish you had walked out of and asked for a refund.

For me, no joke, Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted. It did not even feel like a real movie to me. It made me see red! I was SEETHING with anger and annoyance throughout the entire thing, and I cannot for the life of me articulate why. I saw it once in 2012 when I was 15, I remember almost nothing about it now, but it struck a nerve with me like no other movie ever has before or since.

Tell me in the tags, which movie makes you disproportionately angry just thinking about it?

[revelboo]

Finally managed to catch up with Everything is alright and damn, it sure is one hell of a ride! Poor reader really can't catch a breath Also, as someone who struggle with reading fics bc english isn't my first language and it ask way more focus, I really love your way of writing, makes it way easier to follow! I read a lot of your others texts to and I really love your writing, thank you so much for all of this!

Thank you! I tend to write in a stream of conscious style rather than proper sentence structures- basically I write how my brain thinks. Aside from tense and that physical descriptions and details aren’t really more than broad strokes, this is how I normally write.

Thank y’all for all the Valentine’s Day messages, I got a bit overwhelmed with them 🤣

Everything Is Alright Pt 133

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• You’d fallen asleep tangled in him at some point since he wasn’t willing to release your connection with his spark just yet. The fact that you trust him enough to rest in his arms while you’re so vulnerable aching sweetly in his spark. Monitoring you, sifting through your light and warmth again and again. Hunting. Until he finds what he’s looking for. So much tinier than Starscream’s new spark had been when he’d discovered it, just a pinpoint of light nestled within you. Remembers the frantic way you’d evaded him when he’d tried to fully bond you the first time, not even knowing you were sparked at the time, but still instinctively trying to protect Starscream’s new spark. Crooning shakily, he tucks you more firmly against his frame as he wraps himself more firmly around your light.

• Letting himself back into his habsuite, Megatron scowls. “You know I meant for you to talk it out, not frag in my berth,” he mutters, watching Soundwave shift slightly, tucking you more under him as you make a sleepy sound. That protective gesture making his spark ache as he pointedly doesn’t react and sits on the berth near the two of you. Venting when he realizes you’re sleeping, arms tucked against yourself as Soundwave’s grip tightens. “Did you spark our little mate?” Still feels so strange to call you his. To make that claim on a human. Never would have imagined he’d be in a situation like this. Wants to despise you for what you’d done to him even if it had been an accident, but can’t even manage that. He’d reached out to you, tried to save you.

• Our. Cupping the back of your head when you bury your face against his neck, he has to remind himself that he trusts Megatron. Always has. Had hung all his hopes for a better future on the shoulders of that angry gladiator. Sacrificed so much to follow him. But this is different. Has the overwhelming urge to tuck you inside his cassette compartment and just keep you there. Safe under his protection. “Yes,” he makes himself say. Doesn’t want to share you with Starscream or Megatron, not while you’re sparked with his young.

• “You’re not going to apologize for dragging me into this mess, are you, old friend?” Something about the way Soundwave is holding you is so intimate it makes his spark ache. What would he be like if you were sparked with his young? Would he allow either of the other two anywhere near you? “I’m not going to play carrier for your sparkling, too,” he adds, feeling so tired. And he doesn’t even know if you only passed the spark to him because you were in distress and scared for your sparkling, or if that’s going to happen every time. Has no idea what to expect since you’re organic.

• Rubbing his chin against the top of your head, Soundwave croons to you. Feeling guilty since he’d been pushing you and Megatron together, trying to bind you together for your safety. Still playing the long game, positioning pieces how he wants them. Manipulating. He’s always done what was necessary, but now he’s no longer sure if he’s doing what’s best for the cause, for his people, or just what he wants. A family. A different future. “Angry?” He asks, trying to ignore that faint whisper of unease at being so small. Aware of the warlord watching him, expression calculating before his optics narrow, shaking his head.

Previous

Next

[semisgroupie]

undercover freak — mila + kento nanami (@lovegasmic)

warnings: exhibitionism, public use of a sex toy, vibrator usage, teasing, cum eating, establish relationship (kento and reader are married!), public orgasm, hint at multiple orgasms

this is part of my TOYS, TOYS, AND MORE TOYS event! come send in a request to celebrate you and your special lover! also this is the specific vibrator i’m referring to in this drabble (and i need this man :))

It’s all under a good guise. Everything seems and looks normal. You two look like a couple, that’s in love, that’s having a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner. You two look at each other with hearts in your eyes, whispering little compliments and his hand holds yours, his thumb stroking over your fingers while your engagement ring and wedding band catches every light in the room.

Unbeknownst to everyone but you and Kento, is that you have a special present that’s pressed against your cunt.

He leans in with a slight smirk that’s unreadable by anyone else in the dimly lit room. “Are you alright, darling? You seem like there’s something bothering you.” He chuckles when you narrow your eyes at him but your expression quickly changes when he moves his other hand closer to his pocket.

“I-I’m fine! Just hungry, the waiter is supposed to come by for our order soon.” He moves his hand away from his pocket for now and nods at your words and you can barely see the mischievous glint in his brown eyes. “Hm, okay. Did I tell you how ravishing you look tonight? Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll be able to drive you back home. I can’t wait that long to be alone with you, I’ll just have to bring you to that hotel that’s a few streets down or maybe I’ll just find an empty parking lot and quell my desires there.”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you reach over to grab a glass of water to try to calm yourself down. “Kento, you can’t say things like that so openly. What if someone could hear?” He laughs and gently squeezes your hand, “so what? They’ll just know how much I desire my beautiful wife.” He lifts your hand to his lips and he presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles then only pulls away when the waiter returns.

You look at the menu to confirm what you want then look up at the waiter, Kento places his order then slips his hand in his pocket when you start saying what you want. His hand goes to the little remote and he presses the button to start the vibrations just as the first word leaves your mouth. Instead of your order, a gasp leaves you and Kento lifts his hand to cover his mouth to hide the growing smile. You stumble and stammer over your words as he raises the vibrations higher.

The scene in front of him has to be one of his favorites, he lets out a little chuckle each time you glance at him, the look in your eyes is something mixed with annoyance and a plea for him to stop. But he doesn’t stop, he watches you squirm and watches how the waiter becomes more and more concerned. When you finally say your order Kento shuts off the vibrator and smiles apologetically at the waiter, “sorry about that, she just gets really anxious with public speaking so I’m helping her get over it.”

You narrow your eyes at your husband and wait for the waiter to leave before you speak. “You’re such an ass.” You mutter and grab the glass of water to take another sip, your hand trembles slightly as you drink from it then set it down. Kento smiles and nods, “you agreed to this, that’s what happens when you don’t think things out thoroughly. You let that pretty little cunt think for you instead of using your pretty little head. But more importantly, did you just cum in front of the waiter?” More heat rises to your cheeks as you nod slowly, you couldn’t help it. The vibrator is pressed right against your clit and the vibrations went so high, it just happened. “Naughty girl.” He laughs and looks around before nudging his fork off of the table. He watches as it bounces under the tablecloth and smirks, “oops, let me grab that.”

You roll your eyes as he goes under but they immediately widen when you feel his hands on your thighs the same time the waiter comes back with your drinks. Heat rises to your cheeks and you try to shut your legs but he keeps them open. You bite down on your bottom lip to hold back a gasp when Kento pulls your panties to the side and you feel his fingers glide up your slit.

“Where did your husband go?” The waiter looks around as he sets down the complimentary bread and you bite down on your bottom lip harder, “b-bathroom.” The waiter nods and smiles at you as you stammer for a moment then walks away. Just when he walks away Kento climbs from under the table and slips two fingers in his mouth, groaning at the taste of your essence on them.

“Delicious. How many more orgasms do you think I can get out of you before the night ends?”

[andhumanslovedstories]

There's so many horrible things happening in America right now that it has been interesting to see what individual horrors hurt me personally the most. I grew up going to the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Musicals, plays, concerts, that weird bust of JFK, playing around on terrace during intermissions, putting on a velvet dress that you're going to ruin dropping a milk dud in your lap and not noticing until it's fully melted, wearing the pinchy shiny shoes that are the training bras of women's formal footwear, operas I didn't like but did love, jazz I didn't understand but still fascinated me, red carpet, big stairs, the absolute nightmare amount of experiences I had as a new driver as I repeatedly got trapped in the Kennedy Center's fucking private DC island or whatever the hell is going on traffic-wise, free performances on small side stages, getting to see an enormous production on the Center's most enormous stage, all of which was accessed by walking through that a long, tall hallway lined with flags of the world that made you feel like a dignitary attending the most important even in the world.

And now Trump's taken it over. He fired its board. He appointed one of his loyalists to run it. I want to throw up.

Sometimes I miss DC so much. I love the Pacific Northwest and expect I'll live here for the rest of my life, but this isn't my hometown. I grew up the edge of the District. I've lost cumulative years of my life stuck in traffic on the inner loop and outer loop. Because of the Smithsonian, it used to be so baffling to me that anyone ever had to pay to get into a museum. I've used the Washington DC zoo as a shortcut to a different part of the city because it's free to enter. You couldn't count the amount of knockoff Spider-man popsicles that I've eaten sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. My reading tastes were molded by Kramer Books in Dupont Circle. I spent afternoons walking around the National Mall, normally just a big empty field until there's an event--book fair, country music program, international cuisine, whatever--at which point for a day or a weekend or a week it becomes a sea of tents and stages. I went to protests outside the Capital and the White House about the war in Iraq. I froze my toes off watching Obama's 2008 presidential inauguration.

It seemed like everyone's family touched the federal government in some way. Everyone's family had moved here because they were military or state department or a political consultant or worked with an NGO or some other reason that meant you had to be here, in the nation's capital. Plenty of people had connections to the federal government that we more hush-hush. Like kids in class straight up going, "I have no idea what my parents do for a living. They're not allowed to tell me." High schoolers regularly, accidentally drove into the CIA parking lot and got escorted out because the premises were that accessible. My family moved here because my dad is a reporter who ended up covering international trade. (Imagine how much his job sucks right now.) He switched beats one summer to cover the White House instead. He got to fly on Air Force One. He got official Air Force One M&Ms. I was SO disappointment my dad didn't work there for Bush to call on him by nickname.

Every day my family got The Washington Post. I read the comics and the kid's page, then the rest of the Style section, then Metro, then news. I learned to read from it. We wrapped our delicate Christmas ornaments with its pages. We used yesterday's papers to clean our windows because they didn't leave streaks. I took journalism in high school. You can't IMAGINE how much and how frequently we talked about Watergate. When Post changed its motto to "Democracy Dies in Darkness" after Trump's election in 2016 that meant something to me. I knew Bezos owned the paper now, but that was still my paper, and the motto spoke to something I fervently believed: if people just knew what was happening, they wouldn't allow it to happen. If you expose a problem, people will naturally agree that it is a problem and that we should do something to fix it. Flash forward to Trump's third fucking campaign, and the newspaper wouldn't endorse a presidential candidate. Chickenshit cowardice. Then they change the motto. "Riveting Storytelling for All of America." Eat shit. You're nothing now.

Politics in America is just telling everyone how much you hate Washington, DC so that they'll elect you so you can move to DC. Well, guys, the city fucking hates you too. Republicans will never give the District actually meaningful political representation because no one in that city would vote for them. It's not just the policies; it's the contempt. No one in the new administration loves the city they schemed and lied and stooped to take over. It's just iconography to them, and all they care about is taking that iconography for themselves. Trump doesn't give a shit about the summer program for the Kennedy Center. He has never seen a show at the Kennedy Center. When he was president, he never attended the annual awards. He's trying to destroy one of the most significant places of my life and I'm genuinely unsure if he has ever stepped for inside of it.

[hisnameisbeanie]

^ Hope it's cool to add to this, because that ending line caught me off guard, lmao! (No hate, just surprised!)

I'm a transman, and maybe I can share information that might help people who are either considering transitioning themselves, or trying to write about a trans character. Though it's worth mentioning that everyone's experience with transitioning is different, and there is no 'right way' to transition. (I've personally been on testosterone for 7 years).

That being said, I knew about some of the changes I could expect from taking hormones, but I wasn't prepared for all of it.

My voice got squeaky and would crack, and now it's deep. I have facial hair, which is taking it's time with filling in properly, but it's noticeable! And not really having to deal with periods anymore has been amazing, though a change in meds has caused occasional spotting, which sucks.

There was also a huge shift in my mood, because testosterone makes you angrier. Like you're just...mad, for no fucking reason. And it took me a while to figure out that that was a side effect, and once I did, I worked at handling myself better.

My libido went up, my pain tolerance went down, my acne came back shouting, "AND ANOTHER THING," and my facial structure changed. And because of that last one, I now have to wear swimmer's ear plugs in the shower, or I will end up getting an ear infection, because my ears can't drain the water normally anymore. (I use a wax removal spray now so I can still keep my ears clean).

I knew I'd get chest hair and the trail on my stomach, but holy shit the sheer amount of hair that is just EVERYWHERE? My arms and legs are hairier (like the hair is thicker), and while I don't have hairy feet, I do have hairy TOES?? And somewhere else that was an oddly specific choice for my body to make, and would probably be TMI for this post, so I'll spare everyone.

But I think the thing that caught me the most off guard, was the pain. It thankfully didn't happen for long, and it hasn't happened in years, but testosterone can cause a condition known as clitoromegaly. The symptoms include:

The clitoris and clitoral hood can grow longer and wider.

The clitoris might feel different during sex.

It might get hard when you're aroused.

You might experience some pain or sensitivity.

(Thank you Google).

And there are a lot of different types of testosterone that you can take, though I've taken it in shot form for the majority of my transition. Minus like a 2 month period where I had to use the gel, which I was not a fan of for texture sensory reasons.

It always fascinated me that when trans people took hormones, they. Worked. I mean this PURELY from a biological standpoint. We think of "male" bodies and "female" bodies as so different, but the reality is they just aren't. A human body will know what to do with the tools you give it, even if it's never had those tools before.

Put testosterone in a "female" body, and it'll know how to grow a beard. It just will.

Put estrogen in a "male" body, and it'll know how to form breasts. It just will.

It doesn't matter what the "original" sex was, a human body is a human body and it knows what to do. We were never different. We just think we are because we think it makes more sense. But it doesn't. I make way less sense, actually.

I think that's fascinating and kind of beautiful. Honestly

And I never thought the place to explore this line of thinking thoroughly would be a Hazbin Hotel mpreg fanfiction but HERE WE ARE

[hyucknosung]

People who don’t like Aaron Kevin Nicky for “not understanding Andrew the way Neil does” PISS ME OFF SO BADDDDDDDD bro people have different mindsets. Different worldviews. Andrew and Neil’s align in a way that’s really beautiful. But also Andrew makes no effort to understand anyone else’s perspective. NEIL makes even less. It’s not normal for people to just immediately get why someone would be acting as violently as often as Andrew does! You have to grow up around an insane amount of violence to not see what Andrew does as insane! If any of you ever met someone like Andrew you’d be fucking terrified! Most of you couldn’t even handle meeting Aaron let’s be so fucking fr! Neil and Andrew Understanding each other the way that do is so lucky and so brilliant, but you guys must end this tirade against Aaron Kevin and Nicky for “not trying to understand Andrew.”

Let’s j go through the list, ok?

If you were teenager Aaron and your brother almost killed you by locking you in a bathroom for a week for you to get clean while you were literally clawing at your enclosure (same brother who killed your mom. Btw) would you be so quick to try and understand where he was coming from? I love Andrew truly I do but that was so unfathomably dangerous.

Imagine you’re Matt and you put so much effort into getting clean and staying clean just for Andrew to literally drug you again? Jesus fucking Christ!!!! Imagine being Dan and having that done to your boyfriend!!!

Imagine being Kevin and the person who swore to protect you is choking you, with intent to do serious harm potentially even kill you (three people to get Andrew off?) because you made a promise to the person Andrew is doing this whole bit for. My god

Andrew is incredibly protective and that drives a lot of his actions and as the reader we see that more clearly because it didn’t happen to us and we never actually see these happen on paper. Andrew is not a kind character (none of the monsters are) and that’s okay. We are all attached to unkind people in real life. You can’t just justify every violent action he does by blaming other people for not truly understanding him

[asmolfolk]

Twisted wonderland with a Grandparent!Reader

ਈՉ࣪﹑Heeyy! Just wanted a quick say in this: This will be a short series and I'll try to go over every dorm [and the NRC staff and special characters if wanted!] with this little idea.﹗ִ❀ ᘏAt first it was going to be tons of angst/comfort. But I decided to just do comfort with some angst in it﹗ִ❀ Some things that you must know before you read this:

This is just an introduction, a bit long but it's to make sure that you understand all the 'prologue changes'.

This will be completely platonic!

You can request more scenarios of 'Grandparent Reader' if you wish!

The next one I'll do is probably 'Parent!Reader', which may include Reader trying to date the students's parents.

Everything was going well in your world. Your life – as short as it was – was complete, you were the ‘concept of a grandparent’ for a lot of people. You owned a little bakery and were being helped by your grandkids, they were always here working and trying their best to make things less hard for you.   Blessings, that’s what they were. You used to joke with your oldest that their children were almost taking your shop for themselves! It was funny, even more funny to see that you actually did leave your bakery shop for them – together with recipes and much more – in your will.  The others [children of your middle and youngest] weren’t that interested ON the bakery shop, they just wanted to help YOU. It always did warm your heart, you were loved... You never knew that someone could be this loved before.  And everything was lost in a blink of an eye.

You weren’t in your bed anymore, in your house – gods, you weren’t even in your kid's house!! It took you quite a while to understand your surroundings, it was all black until you heard some... Strange voice, it was unknown – it worried you deeply until you opened the gate you were in... Only to see a little... Cat? 

“Oh, goodness! What are you doing all alone here, little one?” Your voice is so sweet as you tried to steady yourself, kneeling before the startled cat. 

“HUH? Who you callin’ a little one?! And why are you so... old?” The cat TALKED? Like. Actually talked? Now that you look him closely, it seems that he isn’t a normal cat? What was that?! 

“It happens with all the folks... Though, am I hallucinating or are you an animal that speaks?” 

“I AM THE GREAT GRIM! Not just some pet! Now, give me your... Uniform! Ye!” 

“My uniform? Oh, you wish to work on my bakery? I’m sorry but I couldn’t possible hire such a sweet one to do hard work!” 

“NOT THAT! Your uniform, the one you are wearing right now! You are too old for school ‘yways!” 

“...School?” Slowly getting up and looking around, you managed to notice the big coffins. 

“Well, yes! It could be said that you are too old for this school – but my magnanimity is boundless! There’s no such a thing as an age to learn!” A new voice joins, a... Very strange man with a crow mask, he is smiling as if he is doing a Favour. “And, as it seems, your little familiar is going to be such a great help for you!” 

As he explained everything that you could know, you tried your best to calm Grim while the man would explain every little detail he could to you. Even though, he seemed sketchy, you could feel that he was actually wanting you to feel a bit more comfortable and secure.   Maybe, it was because you were old... Or, as you prefer to think, he is just a nice young man. Once everything was finalized, he was guiding you through the school in a much nicer tone. 

“Well! I’m assured that this whole time spent here – that you were obviously listening to your headmage – was worth it and you have no more questions, right?” He asked with a gracious smile. “I assume you are ready to see which dorm you are going in.” 

“Oh, I’m ready. Though, I am not entirely sure that it would be good for my health to go to Savanaclaw.” 

“Details.” 

As you were guided to the... Uhm, room full of coffins. You saw tons of young men across the room, they seemed ready to go away when Crowley opened the door as soon as one of them said something about ‘him disappearing on the ceremony’. 

“I most certainly did not!” The Headmage said with an almost angry tone. 

“Ah, speak of the devil...” Such a young and small little one you saw! You couldn’t help but wonder how that much sass could fit in that body! 

“If you must know, I was searching for the new student!” He pointed at you, before guiding you towards the mirror. “Poor me, being overly critized by my students when I’m only helping an older one!” 

You didn’t help a lot with the surprise by stepping with difficulty on the platform, you saw a young purple haired fellow running towards you, he linked his arms on yours immediately. 

“Here! Let me help ya!” He immediately said, helping you upstairs. “Those lazy sluggards not even wanting to help ya.” Actually, he didn’t even give time for anyone to try to help. His grandson instincts were fast to act, he not only did immediately notice that you were an elder but that you would need a bit of help with the stairs. 

“You are such a strong young man! Thank you for helping a poor old folk like me.” You said in that sweet grandparent tone that made the boy just grin triumphantly – as if you had just given him a trophy. He didn’t let you go until you were face to face with the mirror. Though, you could hear some whispers about your age, you simply waited for the mirror to say something. 

But, well. We all know how that all went. 

Ramshackle accident. 

Let’s begin with just saying: The thing that most changed was with Epel introduction. He was clung to you like a Coala, he simply did not let you go and was always around you – You, however, did not mind it not even a little bit. He reminded you about your youngest grandkids, always full of energy and ready to duel anyone. 

He was always with his arm linked to yours, guiding you with proud around the school while talking about anything he could. 

And, of course, Grim wasn’t... That bad? He was simply clingier since the beginning. He was stuck to you, always following behind or simply resting in your arm. 

When Crowley – oh, so gracious – tried to give Ramshackle to you were meet with Epel screaming about ‘an old person CAN’T be in such a mess of a place!’. It made the young Epel just ignore his Housewarden calls and immediately go to help you clean around. 

He didn’t let you do anything other than mop the floor and clean windows. Everything else was him and a very unhappy Grim. After everything was cleaned, Epel made sure to help you upstairs. 

“Just so ya know. Morning I’ll come back and help clean more, alr? Don’t forget to call me if anything happens.” 

“Oh... I don’t have a phone.” 

“...I’ll figure something up!” He said before making sure you were okay and going away. 

It was like having your grandkids taking care of you again... And the thought of them poisoned your happiness, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop thinking: “How are they? Are they worried?” You had to push those thoughts before drifting off. 

Oh, and the ghost thing? Well, the whole thing happened but a lot less ‘scary’.  

You have ghost grandkids that are way older than you now, congrats. 

The first years.

Oh, the Adeuce duo. Such a nice young and lively folks. At first, Epel was a bit unsure to let you be around them, especially after the whole fiasco in their first day. However, it was a chance on having more help in making the whole dorm way cleaner for you. 

Well, let’s just say that Deuce was a sweetheart and Ace was... Well, Ace. 

Deuce was immediately apologizing for putting you in danger while Ace was a bit more aloof but was caring too, once you made sure that you actually liked the chaos as it brought a bit more of light to a boredom, they were immediately smitten. Ace was talking about ‘his new cool grandparent’ in less than a week. 

You, more times than you wish you could say, was always cleaning their messes. However, it was... Such a nice thing, to have them around, talking as if you were as young as them. As if you weren’t magicless... I mean, he literally threw a punch for you. 

It didn’t take too long before you meet Jack, such a nice gentlewolf that was always here for you. He helped quite a lot in making sure that things were moved around your dorm, not only that, but he also always managed to get some food and ingredients for you. 

When you meet Ortho, though, he was asked by Epel to give you a phone. And, so, it was done. Not only did he add everyone, he helped you to understand how to exactly use the phone by yourself.  

And then, it came Sebek – a bit too early – he meet you because he KNOWS how age can affect someone and he was already guarding your dorm when you walked out. He respectfully would tell you which places are dangerous to walk into right now and would escort you to avoid trouble. 

The first-years are the first ones to be called by ‘Grandkids’ by you, after all, they are such sweethearts. Always helping, always making sure you are alright.  It was enough to warm anyone’s heart. 

As time passes by, you couldn’t help but think about your relationship with everyone. Not only Ace and Deuce but with the whole Heartslabyul dorm. 

Heartslabyul┆Savanaclaw┆Octavinelle┆Scarabia┆Pomefiore┆Ignihyde┆Diasomnia┆NRC STAFF┆Special Characters.

[mylovesstuffs]

Could you write where a member of seventeen has a s/o that's like very out of their league like him being an idol and his s/o being like a medical student soon to be a doctor or something very different from each other and what would the members say when they found out lol a lot of teasins hehehe please any member would do!! I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS SO MUCH AGHHHHHH

"You’re Dating a What?!" | Hoshi x Medical Student!Reader ft. SEVENTEEN’s relentless teasing

A/N: AHHH THANK YOU!! I love this concept—it’s so perfect for teasing and chaos! I’ll go with Hoshi because I think he's so perfect for the scenario and I love his reaction lol and the members would absolutely clown him for dating someone so seriou. Also, note that, he's very smart too, alright? Let’s not forget how incredibly smart Hoshi is, especially when you look at how he plays Mafia. Have you seen him in action? His chaotic genius is honestly impressive.

Word count: 432 words

Hoshi had every right to keep you (except Dino) and your profession a secret for months. Not because he was ashamed—God, no, but because he knew exactly how his members would react. And he was right.

The moment they found out that their goofy, tiger-obsessed, choreographer leader was dating a soon-to-be doctor, all hell broke loose.

It happened during a normal group dinner just like every other day. Hoshi had stepped away to take a call and his phone lit up on the table with a notification from you.

“Just finished a 12-hour shift at the hospital. Dead tired. Miss you :(”

The room went silent.

Jun, sitting closest, immediately grabbed Hoshi’s phone, “Hospital?” he read out loud. “Wait, wait—guys, who is Y/N?”

“It’s his girlfriend,” Dino answered absentmindedly, stuffing his face with food. Then he froze. “Wait. Why is she at a hospital?”

Everyone turned to look at each other before Seungkwan gasped, “No way.”

Hoshi walked back in at that moment, completely unaware of the chaos about to unfold. “Hey, what’d I miss?” he asked, sitting down.

Jeonghan leaned forward, a wicked grin spreading across his angelic face. “Oh, nothing, doctor’s boyfriend.”

Hoshi choked on his water that he was about to gulp. “Wha—” silence. “How do you know?!”

Vernon waved his phone. “You left it unlocked. Rookie mistake, professor’s pet.” Cue every single member losing their minds.

Special scene lol.

The Roasting Session Begins

Mingyu: “You—YOU—bagged a future doctor? What did you do, trip in front of her and pretend to be unconscious?”

Dokyeom: “Wait, wait, so while we struggle to read our own contracts, your girlfriend is out here diagnosing diseases??”

Seungkwan: mockingly “Oh no, Dokyeom’s knee hurts from practice. Let me call my girlfriend.”

Woozi: “How did you even meet her? Was she studying in a library and you accidentally walked into the wrong building?”

Minghao: “Imagine working years to become a doctor only to date a guy who yells ‘I’M TIGER!’ for a living.”

Hoshi sat there, absolutely suffering, his face in his hands, “I hate all of you.”

Jeonghan threw an arm around him. “Nah, we’re proud of you, man. Who knew our little performance leader would be dating someone who actually contributes to society?”

Hoshi groaned, knowing the teasing would never end. But as his phone vibrated with another text from you—

“Heading home now. Call me when you’re free, love. <3”

—he just literally just grinned. Let them tease all they want. He was dating the coolest person in the world. And that was a flex.

The end.

Okay, but imagine Hoshi actually dating a doctor—it’d chaotic and adorable. He’d text you with things like “I sneezed, am I dying?” or “I accidentally ate expired ramen, will I survive?” I loved writing this, and if you want a different member, please let me know!! Thank you again for the request—you’re the best!!

[bleuberries-and-video-games]

I can tell you this first hand, even the people who are fighting, they're doing it running ragged. Double that for anyone who's like a marginalized identity targeted explicitly by him, I know trans people who are burning the candle at both ends, myself included, to create support groups, networks of aid, any kind of shit just to keep going and to maintain any sort of equilibrium and even make ends meet. I'm very fortunate to have the job I have, I don't know if I will have it forever, as my job does kind of require or rely upon Federal and local government grants and the state of Missouri is not exactly a very kind place right now to trans people.

Not only that, but also like, I would like to explain to anyone from outside of the United States what the United States is like, because I don't think any of you understand what it's like. I think you see New York and la and maybe Austin Texas and maybe Portland oregon, or God forbid any one of the places where there's like a Disney theme park that some of y'all go to, but like those are really big economically beautiful and thriving places. That means they look picturesque, that means they look like America is fine and thriving, but I can assure you that is not the case for a number of different groups and people and places. Hell even in those places I've listed, there are issues you can see on a day-to-day basis that you wouldn't normally see just touring.

The vast majority of the United States, for the vast part of its history, has been some kind of police state with some kind of hyper regulatory body enforcing some kind of morally tied laws. From cross-dressing laws, to race mixing laws, to laws disparaging and maintaining women's oppression, to the very fact that if you didn't own land for a large part of this country's history, you didn't have any sort of power. At all. This means that you are beholden to a capitalistic class that has grown more and more powerful as time has gone on. America is not a shining City on hill and has never been a shining City on a hill, it has always been this place that has been propped up by capitalism, and always had a bunch of people that are sitting in the periphery and which makes the majority of the capital but doesn't see a dime of it. If you think that this is suddenly abnormal, that we went from voting for Obama to voting for the orange dweeb, you're a fucking idiot. You're not paying attention. You're so wrapped up in economic and social nationalism for your countries, thinking about how much better your Society is in contrast and trying desperately to figure out what went wrong™ in America that you forget fascism starts when you start drawing heavy borders and when you start thinking about us versus them. Everyone in the entire world is beholden and capable of doing fascism. I mean it fucking started in Europe for God's sake, Europe is not this enlightened Center of cultural good, for a long time it was very regressive and stifling, and it is only a recent part of History in which that has not been the case. And didn't even more recent history, you have benefited off of economic booms and trade Partnerships that have basically dissolved orders that once caused decades-long escalating conflicts that almost entirely destroyed the world. This is not an accident, this happens because of the economic powers that be, this is because of capitalism, and this is specifically because we have still not addressed the issues that plague the world.

We are trying our very best to do what we can to fight what we can and protect what we can. But when the majority of the country has been getting increasingly economically disparate, when police get more funding than schools, when the military is all over the world working with allies and toppling Nations or propping up proxy states, when all of our money goes to defense contractors or contracted Federal businesses run or cut to Pieces by private Equity firms, there's not a whole lot many people can do, and the more marginalized you are, the more Afflicted and affected by different issues in the world you are, the harder it is for you to do something. And yet I know some people who do stuff, who do fight, who fucking have to walk with a cane or crutches, who struggle to breathe or struggle to go anywhere, who don't have cars, and they still manage to go to meetings, work with organizations, and they're trying, they're God damn trying.

You see the problem is for the last 40 fucking years, the media apparatus that the United States runs, CNN and fox news, have accelerated the concept of propaganda in America from something that is a lot more decentralized and region specific, into this National Force that basically tells the world what America thinks. The issue is? Neither CNN nor Fox news, nor HLN, the Oprah Winfrey channel, cbs, abc, nbc, or Comedy Central really represent the American people and their opinions. A number of these nationally syndicated television shows and news programs have to water down a lot of perspectives, and they often dehumanize, Rob The Voice of, or just genuinely ignore very necessary issues. This is also because of the fairness doctrine, a standard that guaranteed the news would be a certain way, was abolished around the time that CNN and Fox News started taking off.

So not only were you getting watered down, oftentimes nationalized opinions, there was no alternative perspectives and there was no way to tell who thought what and why. And so pretty much the entire world and anyone who watches CNN and Fox News has just assumed that's what Americans think, when in reality we are very much skeptical and very much frustrated with what either program says, and by extension a lot of other media companies. We have watched and tried very actively to stop the monopolization of our media, but we are pretty much helpless to stop it because there's not a lot of avenues we can take especially the worse and worse things get.

You have to stop thinking of America in terms of the prosperity that is projected on television and by a bunch of places for touristic means, you have to start thinking about it in terms of the places that you don't see, you have to start thinking about it as a sort of oligarchic dictatorship that has traded hands over and over again for the last several decades to financially benefit a bunch of dick heads at the top of the hierarchy. Those same Financial dick heads go and explore the world, prop up and collaborate with different financially powerful individuals, and maintain the conflicts and oppression that run the world. Ever since the fall of the Berlin wall, and even since before that point, America has had pretty much free reign with little opposition to do a bunch of bullshit like that.

All the while a lot of it citizens suffer, a lot of them are compulsory forced to serve in the military in order to get the bare minimum amount of college, medical care, and so on, which creates a massive benefit to the military industrial complex, and by extension ships are troops all over the world to help our allies supposedly defend themselves, when in actuality all it's doing is just legitimizing and continuing the cycle of financial destruction.

What I'm trying to say is you have to stop thinking of America in terms of what you see in the media and start looking at America in terms of what you hear from people around here, and more importantly you have to talk to people who are not kissing the ass of government or posting rampant conspiracism. You have to talk to regular citizens and actually get a gauge on what it's like living in both middle and wider range America. I would love for California and New York to be the emblematic representation of america, I would love for the media and ideas you see and engage with to be true, but it's not and it can't be.

America has never been this prosperous giant, it has been a testing ground for the extent of which capitalism can be abusive and get away with it. It is always been that way. You can ask however it got to this point, and I will point to the Civil War and say it was always this way.

It was always about maintaining indentured servitude, always about maintaining disparity and destruction and oppression, and basically from the beginning America has constantly been founded by and sustained by consistent and perfect PR spins. Liberty and justice for all? Or for a bunch of guys who own land? Yes you can change it, but you don't change it by simple votes. All of the Amendments that have giving us rights and changes that have made the country supposedly better have been paid for in blood, and almost all of them have been subverted by a bunch of movements antithetical to their existence simply because a group of people didn't like being told what to do. We are trying our very goddamn best. Please know that the media lies to you, please know that our government lies to you, please know that everything you hear about us is likely some kind of fabrication meant to maintain some kind of facade to get you to believe bullshit. To make you think that we're complaining with this. To make you think that we wanted this. We didn't. Those of us who did? I guarantee you are in the minority. I know they are in the minority.

For those outside of America going "why don't you fight back" or "don't you guys know what's going on?" let me explain something to you.

We know.

There is nothing a lot of us can do right now.

We are either minorities surrounded by Trump supporters or struggling to make ends meet or (most likely) both.

These first few days are designed to exhaust us. It's the same tactic he used during his first administration. Overwhelm the media and the masses so that the more sinister things he does gets swept under the rug.

And honestly, a lot of us are checked out because we spent the last four years warning people about a second term because our lives were on the line and those we thought cared about us proved they didn't.

And now we're just trying to find some sort of semblance of happiness in this joyless world we're now living in. We fight when we can, we bring attention to what we can, but a lot of us are just fucking exhausted.

So please, cut us some slack. We've been fighting for the last eight years, we still have to fight for the next four.

Right now, survival is the only rebellion we have.

[currentlyinflames]

What we have to do to survive - Sylus x gn!Reader

word count: 2.5k

Summary: Sylus comes home after a day of hunting Praedators and you see something off...

cw: violence, injury, mentions of blood, guns, reader is protective almost to an unhealthy level, theres like one suggestive sentence

a/n: written for the new event. I skipped over the patching up scene a lot im sorry im hella squeamish. this man has captivated all my senses so i must bite and write him. this is also my first fic to exceed a thousand words.

Enjoy :D

-        -           -    

You heard the glass door creak as Sylus crept back into your home. 

You never heard him walk in when you first met him but Sylus had since dropped his guard around you. Something about a “little kitten” not being a threat. You showed him just how much of a threat you could be later that night. 

You lifted your head from where it was buried in your book, not taking your eyes off it. 

“Got a moment kitten?” His deep voice called out to you. 

“Mhm, lemme finish this chapter,” You said, still deeply engrossed in your book. 

Sylus chuckled. “You’re not going to step away till you finish the whole book, right sweetie?” There was something held back in his voice, but you didn’t think too much of it. 

He came over to where you were curled up on the couch, standing behind the backrest to kiss you on the cheek. 

You turned your head, catching his lips. “Welcome home.” 

You both separated after a long moment when you caught him holding his side. You quickly got up and went around to him, scanning for any other injuries. 

“What happened? Why didn’t you say anything??” You gingerly touched the hand over the wound, he winced and you quickly pulled your hand away, keeping it hovering nearby. 

“I’m alright, kitten. It’s just a scratch.” Sylus tried to console you. 

You clicked your tongue, worry evident on your face. “You’d say that even if you were bleeding out.” 

He cupped your cheek with his free hand, forcing you to look into his eyes. He smiled softly, his crimson eyes holding your gaze, silently comforting you. 

That didn’t ease your worry as you gripped his arm, getting ready to guide him toward the bathroom with your first aid supplies. You took a breath. Panic would not help anyone right now. 

Sylus stood firm, preventing you from taking him anywhere. “I’m serious, kitten. I’ll be alright.” 

“Not if I don’t take a look. Now come with me or sit down.” 

Sylus chuckled, then winced. “You’re the boss.” 

Your hand slid from his forearm to his free hand, gently guiding him to the cabinet with the first aid kit. 

You made him sit on top of the counter, keeping his injury in front of you, feeling his eyes on you as you pulled out the supplies. 

You didn’t meet his gaze as you started working. “Now, are you gonna tell me what happened or do I need to coax it out of one of your associates.”

“No need to murder on my behalf, sweetie. It was just an incident with a Praedator, nothing too bad.” 

“But no Praedator has been strong enough to hurt you before. Are they getting stronger or are you losing your touch, honey?” You attempted to lighten the mood with your teasing but Sylus seemed pensive because of your words. 

“You’re aware of Praedator testing with frenzy enhancers, right?” 

Your brow furrowed. “Where are you going with this?” 

“You know I have enemies kitten, some of them have it out for me more than others. One of them happens to be in possession of black market frenzy enhancers.” 

“So the Praedator was sent to hunt you. And found you.” 

“They obviously didn’t succeed but they’re still a threat. I want you to keep a weapon on you at all times. Preferably one that I constructed myself with…special anti-Praedator features.” 

“You mean a gun with a taser and Praedator suppressant laced bullets-” 

“-And a second gun with normal bullets. You know me so well my dear. They’re in the top drawer of my nightstand along with my glasses, the hot ones- you know which ones.” 

You finished up the final bandages and went to put the supplies away when Sylus stopped you. “Aren’t you forgetting something sweetie?” 

“I…don’t think so?” 

He pointed to his lips. “A get-well kiss. Won’t that speed up the healing process.” 

You huffed out a laugh. “Oh my sweet, needy man.” 

You reached up to cup his face, one hand on his cheek and the other wrapped around his neck. Your lips slotted against each other perfectly, like they were made to match. His arm wound  around your waist, finding its home in the small of your back. 

You kissed him passionately, savouring the moment. And already thinking of you next move. 

- - - 

You had given Sylus a sleeping pill. A mild one to give you about 3 hours to track down the Praedator and the bastard that dared to target Sylus. 

You snuck over to his phone where he received all his missions and entered the password (“LitTlefeAtHer78%67><) to look up the details of his last job. 

Location: Southern District; near the Old Museum. 

Target: B-Class Praedator

The difficulty had obviously been fabricated. You’d fought B-Rank Praedators yourself and none of them were near Sylus’ skill level. 

The Museum was near where you and Sylus met as you saw him fight for the first time. He was injured then too but those were only a few scratches. Not a planned attack. 

You then scanned the page for any hint as to who might have sent the job. And there it was at the top: Ever. An odd codename but still a lead regardless. 

You looked over to see him sleeping peacefully in your bed. You never thought of yourself as vengeful but Sylus had changed you in many ways since you met him. 

You crept over to the bed and opened the nightstand drawer to pull out the guns he wanted you to have. It was fitting that you were using them on your first “official” job for him. 

The weight was unfamiliar yet balanced in your hands and you quickly tucked them into your holsters, eager to use them. 

You crept out of the room and through the same back door Sylus snuck in through just an hour ago. 

“I’ll be back baby,” you whispered as you looked back one last time before you left. 

Sneaking out with Sylus’ keen senses would have been the hard part of your journey if not for the sleeping pill. Now the obstacle was the time crutch and actually tracking your target from the Museum. 

If you assumed that Sylus had eliminated the treat before leaving the area, that would reduce the chances of you tracking your prey easily. You didn’t want to think that injury made Sylus sloppy but at the moment that was your best bet. 

You entered the museum on high alert, tensing as you hear a noise. A series of thumps followed. 

Slowly, you inched toward the sound, guns in hand, ready to strike at anything there. You hid behind a corner, peeking out to gauge what was there. 

A Praedator was chained to the wall, clearly a weaker type with how it struggled in short bursts, then gave up. 

So the B-Rank Praedator did exist, you realised. But another one was sent too.  

You stepped out from behind the corner, pistols aimed at the Praedator. It snarled back. 

“What happened here? Who sent you?” 

“I don’t work for anyone,” it hissed. “Some weird shirtless man chained me up here after killing another .” 

“And what was the other Praedator like?” 

“Stronger than the man, almost got a bite on him. Wearing a collar like a little pet too.” 

You were getting closer to the answers you wanted. “Did anyone come here after that?” 

“And what will helping you get me?” It sneered. 

“A quick and-relatively- painless death,” you said, raising your chin. “Or I can leave you here and signal some other large, higher ranked Praedator to finish the job. Maybe get some frenzy enhancers as well to really make it interesting.” 

To emphasise your point, you examined one of your guns and aimed it at its left hand, firing a warning shot but having it land in the space next to its upper arm. 

“You won’t actually shoot,” It growled. 

“Try me.” You aimed again, this time at its chest with the electrically charged bullets. You pulled the trigger. 

The bullet didn’t pierce the skin but settled on top, making the Praedator jolt from the electrical shock. 

“Ok- the Praedator was branded- there’s a research facility 3 buildings down- it came from there- that’s all I know I swear-“ 

The jolts began to slowly stop. You cocked your gun, aiming straight at its chest. “Thank you for your service.” 

You fired. 

- - - 

Most buildings in the Southern District were abandoned, meaning there was minimal security in even the previously most important buildings. 

There was nothing stopping you from casually strolling into the facility after shooting the security guard. But you decided to sneak in just in case there were other security measures taken. 

You found an open window on the ground floor and at an easy enough height to crawl through. You landed on dirtied white floors and pulled out your pistols. 

You began walking through the hallway you stumbled into when you heard voices coming from ahead. 

You ducked into the nearest open room, rushing to hide from whoever was coming. 

The voices came closer as you scanned the room, quickly looking for somewhere to hide if they tried to come in. 

The room was compact, with a large cage in the middle. There were screens on the wall that might have been used to track the vitals of the Praedator within the cage but now it was abandoned. 

The voices reached a crescendo outside the room and you held your breath, your finger hovering over the trigger in case you had to make a quick escape. Then you heard the footsteps resume and the voices faded away. 

You paused for a moment, then peeked out of the room. Two men were still standing outside your room, seemingly waiting for something. One was wearing a lab coat and the other a suit. Then the man in the lab coat whispered something to the man in the suit. You could only make out a few words: lab, target and Ever. 

That’s when you caught sight of the suited man’s id badge. It was pinned to his suit jacket and was spelled in small but clear letters: EVER. 

You had found your target. And you would make him pay. 

You had nothing against the scientist other than the fact that he might be a possible witness. You quickly looked around for a distraction. The monitors in your hiding spot were all turned off but they might be connected to another system or alarm. 

You crept over to the nearest one that was hidden from the door and held down the on button. It took a moment, but slowly flickered on. 

The lab must have been abandoned for quite some time because the monitors made use of old technology that primarily detected whether the cage was open or not. 

It indicated that all was well because the cage lock was engaged. But with just the right aim….

You pulled out your normal gun and pointed it at the ancient lock, then fired. 

The bullet struck the latch perfectly. And then the alarms went off. 

The blaring noise made you flinch, then grip your guns harder as you prepared to face Ever. 

The first scientist came in, the one that was just talking to Ever outside. He frantically looked around but before he could catch you, you smacked him upside the head with your pistol. 

Then came the man you were truly waiting for. He ran into the room and you triggered the mechanism that would shut the door. 

“Hello Ever,” You smiled, twirling one of your guns. “I’ve been looking for you.”

He was still reeling from the shock of the alarm. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Who I am isn’t important. What matters to me is that you tried to harm Sylus, and I don’t take too kindly to that.”

“What could I possibly have to do with that criminal?”

“He’s a threat to you isn’t he? Unpredictable, cunning, skilled. If he decides that you’re his next target, there’s nothing stopping him.”

“He has no reason to target me. He was simply a bug that had to be crushed.”

A warning shot rang out. 

Ever flinched. 

“I know about the frenzy enhancers. I know how you faked the mission debrief to catch Sylus alone and off guard. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t target you the same way.”

Ever eyed your gun, then met your steely gaze. “My empire will come after you. They’ll never stop.” 

You tilted your head, raising your gun to his chest. “But what is a body without its head.” Then you fired. 

It was a shame you couldn’t draw this out longer, but alas you had a time constraint. 

After making sure the bullet had done its job, you triggered the door mechanism again and went back to where you previously hid. 

You watched the panicked scientists rush in and used the chaos to sneak out. 

Your job was done, and it was time to head home. 

- - 

You broke back into your home using the back door you used to get out. 

You quietly stepped into your closet, changed into comfortable clothes, and tip-toed into the bedroom to lie next to Sylus before he woke up. 

Slowly, you crawled into bed and lay down facing him, cuddling close to bury your face into his chest. 

“Had a nice trip kitten?” His voice came from above you. 

“Shut up I’m tired,” You murmured. “When did you wake up anyway, that pill was strong.” 

“You forget I’ve trained myself against poisons, a little melatonin does nothing. But I’m sure you’ll pass out pretty quick after the field trip you’ve had tonight. Hunting down one of my worst foes? You’re a feisty one aren’t you?” 

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” you mumbled into his chest. “And you kill for your job without any hesitation, why shouldn’t I do the same for you?” 

“Well that’s just what I have to do to survive in this world darling,” Sylus said. “You have a choice.” 

“What we have to do,” You amended. “We’re in this together, whether you like it or not.” 

He chuckled. “I didn’t know you’d go to such lengths for me kitten.” 

You look up and hold his gaze, unwavering. “I would do anything for you.” 

Sylus wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, his warm breath against your ear as he kissed your temple. “It’s both cute and incredibly hot how you fight for my honour sweetie.” 

You smiled, burying your face back into his muscular pecs. “All for you darling.” 

A moment of silence passed with both of you basking in each others’ presence. Then- 

“And I must say kitten, this was probably one of the best Valentines Day presents you could’ve given me today.” 

[greatmistakes]

Dad Bucky Barnes

Summary: Bucky and you give a talk to your daughter after her being called to the Principal’s office.

Note: No use of y/n or specifications of the character. Drabble inspired by this gif and my love for the idea of Bucky as a father.

Also, my main language is not English. If there’s any mistake please let me know kindly 🥰

“So… how was school today, Becca?” Bucky tried stating the conversation. You were silent, collecting your thoughts and sanity, after receiving the call from the principal.

Your daughter, Rebecca, was called in to the principal’s office because she almost hit a classmate of her. Apparently she was about to get in a fight with a boy. If it wasn’t for her teacher, the poor kid would probably had left with a red cheekbone or something like that.

“It was… not great.” She said from her car seat in the back row.

Okay, at least she’s not trying to lie about it.

“Really? How so?” You continued, trying your best to sound as normal and collected as possible.

“Hmm… the pincipal talk to me.” She was waddling with her tiny hands while looking down at them. Such a cute little copy of you.

“What for? Something good?” Bucky tried to get more information from her before you slammed the breaks anxiously waiting for her to explain.

He regretted not being the one on the wheel.

“Mmm… not really. I… I did something that the Ms. Medina and the pincipal say is not good.”

That made your eyes immediately look at her through the rearview mirror. Thankfully you were at a stop sign and you didn’t have the necessity to hit the breaks.

Before you could say anything, Bucky spoke. Trying to keep the peace.

“Oh? So you think you did something good?”

“Well yeah, Gale is a bad boy. He needs to be better.” Rebecca was more confident while explaining now.

“A bad boy huh? What makes him a bad kid?” Her father continued investigating.

“He bothers my friend. He pulls her hair when Ms. Medina not looking and he always push her in playglound time.” Her tiny arms were crossed, showing she was mad while remembering all this kid did.

“And what did you do, Rebecca?” You asked. Thankfully almost home.

“I told him to stop, many times. And he not stop!”

“And what happened after he didn’t stop?” Your husband continued.

“I was mad. And I want Gale to be good and I push him. And then I go to hit him but Ms. Medina says stop and to go to talk to the pincipal.” She said so fast she even got her eyes glossy.

You arrived to your home’s driveway just in time.

“You wanted to hit him? Why Rebecca? That is not how you solve problems, you know that.” You said, no longer containing your self and looking back at her once you stopped the car.

“But he a bad boy! Daddy always hits and fights bad mans!” Rebecca tried her parents to make sense.

Well she’s not wrong. You and Bucky look at each other and sigh.

“Becca… you can’t just go around wanting to hit people… that’s not… you just can’t do it.” Bucky tries to explain while getting out of the car to help her daughter out.

“But daddy you hit and fight! And then bad mans are good mans.” Her pouted lips and tone showed how much she didn’t understood what she did wrong.

Bucky couldn’t resist that little baby cute face when he opened the door. He almost gave in and left the conversation there, but he sighed and placed his arms on his hips while trying to find a way yo explain. Thankfully you came to his rescue.

“Baby, remember that Daddy has to do a lot of work before going to stop bad guys. And that’s what he does, prevent them from harming others. Once words and reasoning does not work, your dad just tries to stop the bad men to make more harm.”

“But I tried talk to Gale.” At this point, tears were rolling down her eyes, making both Bucky’s and your hearts tight with regret for causing those tears in a way.

Bucky, finally giving up, piked her daughter up from her car seat and hugged her tight while soothing her.

“Princess, its okay. We understand that you did what you thought was right.”

“Yeah, you are a great friend trying to defend your classmate. We are very proud of you being a good friend.” You swiftly dried her tears on her chubby cheeks with your thumb. “Just remember that it is important you always remember that violence is not the answer.”

“You can always talk to your teacher and to us. And if the teacher can’t solve it, we are going to do everything in our power to help you and your friend. We will always listen and help you, no matter what.” Bucky adds, moving her daughter so that he can carry her with his right arm.

“You promise?” Her eyes finally stop crying while hearing that.

“I promise baby. I’ll tell you this, mommy and I will go to talk to Ms. Medina and the principal tomorrow morning and help your friend out. That sounds good?”

“Yes, thank you daddy. Thank you mommy. Im sowy.” The three of you share a hug, still at your house’s driveway but not caring one bit.

“Oh my sweet girl, we know you are sorry.” You left a sweet kiss on her forehead. “You now know better and you will continue to be that sunshine friend you are.”

“We love you, Becky.” Bucky says while giving her a noisy kiss on her cheek that makes her laugh. “So much.”

[bluesturngold]

google announced this at a developer conference back in november 2024 as one of two 'security focused' system apps they were gonna add to the android system

the reason they did it this way is because android is different from iOS in a way that has historically been troublesome: google makes android and a lot of key android system apps, but they don't make all android devices.

by installing apps that add new functionality via the google play store, they can add features without having to rely on the phone's manufacturer or a cell carrier pushing an update, which is useful given manufacturers and cell carriers have mixed track records with regards to updating in a timely manner (if they do at all).

the two new apps work with android phones running as far back as android version 9. given android is beta testing OS version 16 right now, this was the best method to make sure the feature made its way onto those old devices.

to my knowledge, i believe the app install should respect your play store install settings, so if you have everything set to manual updates it should show up in the queue of downloads... but also i could've sworn that's how my stuff was set, maybe i hit download all and wasn't paying attention, or maybe it did it in the background, idk. i totally understand why people think it's sketchy, especially since a lot of users don't realize android is full of system apps that only appear in the app list under settings when you enable viewing system applications, which is why this doesn't show up in the normal app drawer.

now that the rationale is out of the way, here's google's explanation of the setting the app is made to facilitate and how it does so:

Sensitive Content Warnings is an optional feature that blurs images that may contain nudity before viewing, and then prompts with a “speed bump” that contains help-finding resources and options, including to view the content. When the feature is enabled, and an image that may contain nudity is about to be sent or forwarded, it also provides a speed bump to remind users of the risks of sending nude imagery and preventing accidental shares. All of this happens on-device to protect your privacy and keep end-to-end encrypted message content private to only sender and recipient. Sensitive Content Warnings doesn’t allow Google access to the contents of your images, nor does Google know that nudity may have been detected. This feature is opt-in for adults, managed via Android Settings, and is opt-out for users under 18 years of age. Sensitive Content Warnings will be rolling out to Android 9+ devices including Android Go devices with Google Messages in the coming months. Source: https://security.googleblog.com/2024/10/5-new-protections-on-google-messages.html

i have a recent google pixel phone and use the google message app for texting, so the app was automatically installed on my phone.

after seeing this post and doing more research, i went ahead and uninstalled the app as i do not intend to use the feature it facilitates.

if the app re-installs itself later, which seems likely at some point, then i plan to find the setting for the feature it facilitates and make sure it's set to 'off' the way google says it should be for adult users. then, i'll use an internet traffic monitoring app like glasswire to turn off its internet access just to be safe.)

-

the other app google installed without telling you is called Android System Key Verified, and i am gonna go ahead and suggest you leave that one on your device just in case:

To help you avoid sophisticated messaging threats where an attacker tries to impersonate one of your contacts, we’re working to add a contact verifying feature to Android. This new feature will allow you to verify your contacts' public keys so you can confirm you’re communicating with the person you intend to message. We’re creating a unified system for public key verification across different apps, which you can verify through QR code scanning or number comparison.

i use RCS chats with end-to-end encryption via google messages, and while odds are very low someone's going to try and hit me with a contact spoofing attack pretending to be one of the few people i text, it's better to be safe than sorry imo. especially if other messaging apps decide to integrate the functionality later.

if you've read this far i have a question for you... sound off in the replies or tags... is anyone still out here sending nudes via text message in 2025?

i think it's been over a decade since i got texted a nude. everybody's on some kind of messaging app now i feel like

hey folks if you have an android phone: google shadow installed a "security app".

I had to go and delete it myself this morning.