#we are into the second half of the fic now holy shit

[tackytigerfic]

Drarry ~ E ~ 274k

Harry Potter defeated Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts on May 2nd, 1998.

But what if he didn't?

A Voldemort-wins wartime AU featuring multiverse travel, multiple Harrys and Dracos, political drama, spying, plotting, and a slow burn enemies-to-friends-to-enemies-again-to-friends-to-lovers romantic arc.

21 chapters in total (I'll be posting a chapter every two days until it's all up) - Chapter 11 is now posted!

Read from the start here

[eldritch-spouse]

Going to be thirsty here for a moment-. But rereading Breg's fics made me wonder how he would be if Roomie started training herself to be able to take both of his dicks in one hole. Just to let him inside and hammer away. Like, please, sir, break me. 🤲🥺

[Love when people come here like "I hope I'm not being too thirsty". Fem reader. Ignoring anatomy for this because hhhnn-]

TW: Double penetration; Slight dubcon moment.

" Listen to me Breg. "

You start, and even if you're currently beneath the breeder on the bed, you still sound like a drill sergeant. Mostly because you have to, Breg's not to be trusted when he's excited.

" I've been working up to this for a long while- "

" I know! " He interrupts, the bottom of his face still covered in drool and slick when he dove between your legs after you were done with the stretching exercises.

Breg hates that you had to use toys to size yourself up for this, but the promise that you were doing it so you could welcome both of his members made him slightly more tolerant of it. Didn't change the fact that the breeder would often sit and watch, whining in jealousy of whatever you were stuffing yourself with.

" I'll be really careful! I'll be nice- I promise angel! "

His babbling is a waste of slaver, the monster isn't even looking at you, eyeless gaze perched entirely on the sight of your inviting pussy and the way both of his cocks frame it. The breeder looks like he's thrilling himself with the show, making a horny little noise of appreciation and biting at his lower lip. It's as if he's already envisioning himself deep inside you, not having to squeeze one of his cocks between you two. It's been a fantasy of his for a long time, even you have to admit that it's... Exciting to think about.

Now though, you need Breg to focus, so you grab the sides of his head and bring it closer to yours. " I mean it, listen to me. "

His happiness is infectious, you have to turn away to hide the smile tugging at your lips when Breg simply dips to place kisses all over your face, hearing that long tail sway and swat around.

" Breg! " Mercifully, he stops. " You have to pay attention to what you're doing when you start okay? If we do this wrong, it could hurt me a lot. "

" Yes. " He rushes. " Yes, okay. "

"Good. " With a pant, you spread your legs just a tad further, figuring you couldn't possibly be in a more comfortable positions for this, especially with the support pillows helping to angle you. " Now straighten up a bit, I need to see what I'm doing. "

When the breeder does, you note the way his breathing is already sped up, how feverish he's already become. It's impressive how Breg always manages to make you feel so hot, even when you think you look like a fresh mess. Gently, you reach down to grab both of his dicks, keeping them together as much as you can, and he helps the process by scooting forward to line up against your pussy.

Feeling both tips park there is enough to get you to blow a tense exhale, knowing it's going to be a stretch and a half. In sharp contrast, Breg moans like he's in heat, looking as if his self-control is hanging by a very thin thread currently peeling itself apart.

Some hesitant seconds pass.

" Please angel- Please! I want this so bad. It's going to feel so good, let me fuck you, please! " White claws rub at your thighs comfortingly while he pleads, tail thumping impatiently on the mattress behind him. And curse him, because the breeder's shameless imploring always rises a fire in you that's hard to put out.

" I- I want you to push slowly, okay? " You caution, hold still firm on him, your spare arm clutching the sheets.

" Uhuh! "

True to his word, Breg is careful, torturously edging his cocks forward. The lube helps immeasurably, and pretty soon, both heads pop inside, making you hiss and gasp, immediately clenching at the intrusion. Massive. Fucking massive, holy shit. A wave of warmth courses through you as a pleasant shiver moments later.

" Hhn- Ohh... " He's drooling. Like actually drooling on you. " Hahh. " You can tell by the visible flexing of his legs that the only thing Breg wants to do is buck and hammer the rest of himself in, but with an almost pained grunt, he just sits there statically so the two of you can catch your breaths.

" Good- Very good. " You praise his surprising discipline. " Just keep going like that. "

He makes what you think was an affirmative "Mmn" noise and lolls his tongue out when the next couple of inches are softly rolled into you. It's insanely filling on its own, your thighs squirm and you're not sure if you want to edge away from this or even closer. Breg's instincts kick in and he holds your hips down sternly, slowly sinking more of himself in and making deep, pleased moans that wash against you like waves.

" Ngh- Deep- Slow down, give me a second. " It's stealing the breath out of you.

It takes a couple of moments before Breg's brain registers the command, but he eventually pauses with half of his cocks buried in you. He physically has to tear his gaze off the sight of you stretched around him, chest heaving as he curves to blanket you.

" You're so tight, fffuck you always are but this- " He sighs shakily over your ear, and instead of calming down enough to relax, you only tense and squeeze around him harder, making the breeder growl and whine. " Mmnph-! If you keep doing that I won't hold it, angel. Please, can I put the rest in, please? "

One of these days his begging is going to burst a blood vessel of yours. Or maybe it's the way you feel so bloated already.

" O- Okay, but then you need to let me catch up, okay? "

" Mmmf- " You think he growled there for a second. " Yes! Thank you! "

You expected him to push in slowly the same way he did up until now, though you should frankly know better by now... Breg pulls away in a preparatory motion that should have given it all away, then slams home with a force you have no words to describe.

Your stomach bounces and your lungs knock into your throat, eyeballs jostled in their sockets from the strength of his wild horse piston into your cunt. The disgraceful wet noise that echoed in your bedroom doesn't help in keeping yourself grounded. Although you didn't have enough air in your body to do much more than choke and convulse at the intrusion, the breeder makes more than enough noise for the two of you, howling in delight at the way your poor walls all but crush him in an attempt to adapt to the brute size just forced into them. You can feel him perfectly hilted into you, cockheads kissing as deep into you as they possibly can. It's an indescribable fullness that has the two of you stunted.

" Oh gods fffuck- Hahhn I'm all in. " He mumbles amidst desperate noises. " Mmn feels so good so good- I knew it'd be perfect- Love you angel. "

Both lengths throb inside you. You couldn't respond even if you wanted to.

Although you can very well sense Breg trying to rock against you minutely, he keeps his promise, studying your overwhelmed features and giving you time to welcome him properly. There's some pain, you won't lie, but it's slowly ebbing into something forgettable. The pale monster's sweet cooing and trilling help steady you as he licks your throat and lets his teeth deform slightly to place a loving bite on your shoulder.

Eventually, the breeder shifts and looks down at where the two of you are joined, finding imprints of his lengths in you. His grin is so wide and self-satisfied it looks borderline manic. A large hand comes to palp at the bump in your lower abdomen, but the sensation causes your legs to twitch and you bat his arm away.

Breg whines, a trail of drool slipping down his chin to drip onto your skin. " Can- Can I start? "

Your eyes widen a little, though you nod and take a deep breath. " G-Gentle. "

And that's all it takes.

The monster admittedly has a bit of trouble moving at first, the drag of his cocks inside you bordering on painful until fireworks start firing in your brain from all the spots he has no choice but to stimulate with every minuscule motion. The first moan you let out, throaty and helpless, makes him shiver. Wetness gradually builds, helping along with what's left of the lube, and pretty soon Breg's huffing with every thrust, making noises that almost concern you and visibly sweating. You know he's doing his best to behave right now, and you appreciate it, because both at once is... An experience.

" Ah- Ghn so full- " You choke when he fills you out again, causing the breeder to wag his tail slightly and respond with shorter, faster bursts of movement.

" Does it feel good? " He pants.

" Y- Yeah. " Putting it lightly. Your breath hitches and you cling to his arms for support, unable to help the fluttering of your pussy as you get used to this brand new size.

" Angel... " He begins, in a tone you already know means he's going to ask for something. " Hhn- I know you said gentle but... "

He bucks his hips suddenly, the two of you crying out together, pleasure and shock.

" Breg! "

" B- But I know you like it rough! " He stresses. " You clamp around me so hard, it's so hot- " Your face burns. " Come on... Just this time? "

It's not going to be "just this time", obviously.

When you don't say anything, the breeder hums and drapes over you again, legs readjusting so he can plunge somehow even deeper into you now. And with no hesitation, Breg starts well and truly railing into you.

" AH! HN- Breg?! "

You have to hold onto his neck and back, each desperate slam of his thighs on yours digging his softly barbed cocks so far up into your hole he jostles you forward. But you can't deny that it's making your eyes glaze in rabid animal pleasure, mouth opening and hips grinding back onto him as much as they can, the sloppy noise of his every slam filling you with a gross sense of glee.

You don't like to admit it, but you love being under Breg. It makes you feel small in a very arousing way, trapped under his strength, his smell, hearing how fast he breathes for you, how much his body strains to breed you stupid even if the effort is always pointless in the end. You like that he's always just as enthusiastic, that he always fucks you like it's the last time he's going to get to do it.

" S- See? " He groans, looking down at your flushed, probably disheveled face. " I know you like it- I can smell it. " And just to accentuate the point, there's a snort-like sniff when he dips his head into the crook of your neck, rising goosebumps everywhere. " Gghn- I'm- I'm not going to last too long... "

That startles you a little. Breg's always had surprising stamina. Sure, the first time he penetrated you was a bit short, but he had never been with a human before. Still, this puts an incredulous smile on your face. " R- Really? "

" Yeah- " His words melt into slurred moans, previously speedy motions now interspersed by hard grinds that have your eyes rolling slightly. " 'M sorry, you're so good- Sorry. "

" It's- It's fine. " It's hotter than it should be.

" My mate is so perfect- " He growls in-between sharp, jutting thrusts. " So nice to me- " The whimper on the edge of his voice is more than a good tell of how close he is. " I'm so lucky I get to ahhn- Put both in! "

Even if he doesn't recognize it, Breg has a penchant for this very specific type of dirty talk that makes your brain pop and crackle in a hormone-fueled static, and before you can even beg him to fill you with cum, he fucks into your stretched cunt with three dizzying pistons before flexing and coming so hard you can feel it shoot into crevices you didn't even know you had.

It's too much for such a small space, coating both you and him before it has no choice but to squeeze out of you in depraved spurts. Even if you wanted to hear Breg's rattle of ecstasy, you were too lost in your own orgasm to do so, making something akin to a desperate, sobbing mewl at the overload of sensations.

When you can focus minimally, the breeder is planting amorous kisses everywhere on your upper body, still buried hot and wet inside you. His whole face is flushed blue and he's never looked giddier, shuddering as another glob of seed escapes around his still hard cocks.

" Thank you so much, angel. I loved it! "

Oh, you can tell. " ... Don't mention it. "

Breg chirps. " Tell me when you're ready to go again. "

Why are you even surprised...

[aconitewolfsbane]

DPxDC prompt/story idea for anyone to use

We've seen a lot of 'Danny is the twin/older brother/clone of Damian/insert other batfam member' fics.

But...

What if it was Sam?

Talia's first attempt at creating Ra's heir was clearly going to be a girl. She knew that would be unsatisfactory for him, and he'd likely just order the baby's death.

So Talia hid the girl. She put her where ra's would never think to look for her:

with an annoyingly daft rich couple from a small town in the middle of nowhere that she met on a business trip.

Her only orders for the insipid pair was to keep the girl away from Gotham, as she was concerned that Bruce would find out and that would lead to Ra's finding out about Talia's small betrayal.

Talia returned to the League, lied to Ra's about the embryo failing. She took a year off to appear to rework the embryos collected to pick out a guaranteed male, and finally started a new one in the artificial womb, and eventually Damian was born.

Sam thought that her parents insistence on not taking her to Gotham for galas was because they were terrified she'd become goth, so... she did exactly that. The Manson's returned from Gotham to discover Sam burnt all the frilly pink dresses she had up until that point.

"What? I had adult supervision."

*points to Grandma Ida, sitting with a bag of marshmellows and a smirk*

Whether Grandma Ida noticed Sam's similarities to young Brucie Wayne, or the Fenton's did a standard contamination test, noticed the DNA and found that the only Manson willing to listen was Ida is up to the writer.

The portal accident happens, blahblahblah. We know the drill by now.

A reveal gone bad, the Fenton's being good parents, the GIW on the hunt, any combination of the above.

The kids are either rushed away by Ida or the Fentons with orders to go to Gotham, to Wayne Manor, or as usual, the kids just go there because it's the only place two half-ghosts, and three liminals can hide their ectosignatures.

Chaos happens, as it only can in a DP x Dc fic, and the batfam find themselves staring at the Batcomputer as the DNA results flash onto the screen, revealing that the young woman they thought was connected to Poison Ivy was actually...

"Dammit Bruce, are you just unable to keep it in your pants for even a second?!"

"Hnnn..."

"Wait, guys..." clicks to the maternal results.

"... Holy shit."

"... Mother?"

"Talia fucking hid another one?!"

"Langauge, Miss Steph. Master Dick."

"... New sister?"

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Repentance

Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader

('Burn' gifs are limited and this was hotter. Sue me.)

Summery: You know the phrase 'sleeping angels?' Yeah, not in this fucking house. Pretty soon it's gonna be you or him, but Billy may have a trick or two up his sleeve to provide a happy ending for you both

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specified genitals for Reader, prequel/standalone fic for 'My Ghost' but not required reading to enjoy this fic, ('My Ghost' may even be enhanced if you read this first, I'll be fr.) Porn with plot (if you are only here for plot, the porn is only in the second half and is easily skippable), snoring, Reader is sleep deprived, non-serious threats of violence, mentions of gun violence, banter, make-up sex, drug usage/alcohol consumption, Dom!Billy, Sub!Reader, Reader goes mostly non-verbal after smoking but their thoughts don't, dumbification, Reader gets spoiled and folds like a lawn chair me too bitch me too, massage turning into sex, doggy style, Reader gets that good dick that knocks their head into a wall, vocal! Billy, dirty talk/talking through it, pet names, possessive sex, mentions of wet dreams, happy ending for everyone :)

Other Works in This Series: 'My Ghost' (Original) • 'Lapses' (Sequel to 'My Ghost')

Notes: This was supposed to be a drabble and it was not gonna contain smut. What can I say, when the holy spirit of a short man with big brown eyes compels you, you compel him into your bitch. Anyways, this was inspired by this headcanon written by @g0ry0re0! So if you liked this fic, please thank her as well in the comments and go support her works because this wouldn't exist without it!! They're a fucking great writer as well.

                            -¤°》◇《°¤-

Have you ever killed a man?

I might.

Listen, I'm not a bitch. I'm not unreasonable even though that was a hell of an opening statement. But if you'd dealt with the shit I've put up with for the past few nights, you would understand.

How can a man who's not even that fucking large in stature make such noise? What the fuck is wrong with him?

I kick him to try and hit a reset button. It works for five minutes, which is long enough for me to begin to relax again. Right before his snoring revs up like the engine of that bike he loves parked on our front lawn. Maybe I'll run him over with it. Be poetic, take him out with his own weapon. Don't the reports show just how deadly motorcycles are compared to regular cars? It's bad for your health.

Okay, I'm assuming that bit because I'm tired, I'm cold, and Billy won't shut the fuck up. It was a little cute when he was just spending the night and we were hardly sleeping. But now that he actually lives here?

Kick. Stop. Wait. Snore.

Goddammit.

Billy has the fucking audacity to greet me with a smile this morning. Sitting at my fucking table, smoking from the ashtray I fucking made him. He should be ashamed to look so good with no shirt on, displaying his chest hair for the whole neighborhood to see as he sits near the open window with coffee set in front of him like he owns the damn place.

"Morning beautiful," he says with a smile. What fucking nerve does he have to sit there and act so happy about while I hate him?

"You snore," I growl. His eyebrows shoot into the air, this son of a bitch has the nerve to widen his smile.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said you fucking snore," I repeat.

"Don't think I've heard that complaint before," he says, shifting in his seat to look at me better. I don't like the way he looks in those sweatpants, grey and hugging the wrong areas for my attitude.

"You haven't dated anyone long enough for someone to complain about it," I mutter under my breath. His eyes focus on the oversized shirt I wear that alright, maybe I stole from the drawer I stash his things in that I now claim as mine. We live together, it's inevitable, fucking fight me. Watching me as I walk into the kitchen, taking the coffee pot off the dock and pouring some into my cup.

"Something I can do to make up for it, shirt thief?" He asks, leaning back in his seat and manspreading, his hands on his horribly thick thighs. "I was wondering where that one went," he mutters to himself, amused.

"Yeah. See a fucking doctor."

It's day five. I'm genuinely considering homicide.

Dear God, or Allah, or whoever you are. If I shouldn't suffocate this man, give me a sign.

...does the short snore that escapes Billy's mouth count?

It doesn't matter what I do. If I turn him onto his side, if I kick him, if I shove ear buds in and blast whatever music I can sleep to at max volume, he's louder and I'm on my last straw. It's him or me.

"William," I say, poking my head up from the old pillow.

No response.

Maybe it's safe.

Maybe he's dead.

Maybe he'll stay quiet.

I lay my head down once more.

"...what?"

"You fucking snore."

"I'm sorry baby," he slurs in half baked consciousness, turning to wrap his arm around my waist as he presses hot, open mouthed kisses to the back of my neck. "Can I make it up to you?"

"Yeah, let me sleep."

"Sleep is for the weak."

I am weak. I am very, very weak.

"Put your dick away."

"It isn't out."

"I can still feel it."

With a grumble and his face buried in my hair, he abandons his quest in favor of returning to whatever dreams make him keep me up at night. And I am so close to joining him when he starts back up hardly two minutes later. Right in my ear.

With a final huff, I tear the blanket off of him and stomp my bleary eyed way to the living room. Fucker is too sleepy to even notice. Fuck him.

I'm not amused when I wake up in the ungodly hours of the morning sprawled on the couch, Billy's foot in my face as early morning light peaks through the shitty blinds.

"You followed me," I groan, my voice rough with sleep.

"I followed blanket," he slurs.

"It's mine."

"I was cold."

"You snore."

"I've offered consolation, you should take it."

"William, have you ever shot a man?" I ask, bolting upright as I wipe the crust from my eyes.

"Fucking what?"

"Have you ever shot a man?" I repeat slowly, properly enunciating each word.

Billy's eyes dart to the side, then back to me, wide but still tinted from sleep.

"...no?"

"I've considered it," I tell him. "There's a gun in my nightstand. And if I don't get some sleep soon, I'm going to use it. I haven't before, but I can't imagine it's hard."

Billy presses his lips together in a thin line, knowing I'm not serious but that I'm on the last straw.

"... should I go back to bed?"

"I can go back to bed," I say. "You can stay on the couch."

"That's a great idea."

"I'll take the blanket."

"You do that."

It's only two hours later when I'm woken by the alarm, and the smell of sausage is fresh on the air. Even if it was short, the sleep in solitude feels refreshing, no interruptions from Yellowstone volcano on the other side.

When I wander into the kitchen he's in the midst of finishing his preparations for a feast. And by feast I mean a fuck load of eggs with sriracha on top and plenty of sausages to go with it. There's also a pile of toast, the bottle of homemade cinnamon sugar next to the stick of butter besides it.

"Morning beautiful," Billy tries carefully, eyeing me as I lean against the hallway doorframe. "Coffee's on the table."

Whatever I said earlier- which may or may not be blurry to me at this point -has clearly changed his attitude. He's even set out the hazellenut creamer for me, a treat.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks, setting a heaping plate in front of me. I don't know how to tell him I'm too sleepy to eat.

"Better," I say. I take a slice of cinnamon covered toast, trying to convince my stomach to wake up. "Kinda cold, though."

He smiles softly at that, setting down his own plate to join me. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I return the smile, taking a small bite of the corner of my toast. He takes a sip of coffee and brushes his foot against mine under the table. The silence is sweet, apart from the radio just ever so quietly playing in the background to add to the calm morning atmosphere Billy has created for me. His hair is ruffled from sleep, his hand nervously fiddling with the thin chain around his neck. He glances at me, smiles apprehensively, then breaks the silence.

"Do you actually own a gun?" He asks, trying so hard to sound casual.

My brows furrow before I realize what he's referencing, letting out a loud laugh and almost dropping my toast in the process.

"I'm not gonna shoot you, Billy," I laugh, trying so hard to maintain my composure.

"Last night you called me William. I did not like that," he laughs nervously.

"William, I will not shoot you."

"My mother calls me that, I don't want you and my mom calling me the same name."

"Willy-"

"Fuck you," he groans, laughing. "You're terrifying."

"When I don't sleep," I add for him. He nods, eyes wide and brows raising in agreement. "Did you seriously make breakfast because you were worried I owned a gun?"

"When you meet the devil, you meet demands," he says. I kick at his foot playfully, giggling.

"The devil doesn't really eat breakfast."

"I know, I packed lunch too."

Fuck free will, I should've done the gun thing a long time ago. When I walk back into the ramshack house that evening fresh off my shift, Billy has dinner, a bowl and a bath prepared for me upon my return.

"I did not take your comments seriously and I'm sorry," he says genuinely, taking my coat. "I should have and you have suffered. Consider this repentance."

"Repentance is nice. You hide the gun too while you were at it?" I ask.

"I'm not answering that."

Billy may be many things, and a cook is one of them. It's simple, fresh, and nice after a long day. The backrub I'm getting while I eat makes the flavors even sweeter.

"I feel an urge to clarify my threat was not serious," I joke between bites, taking a sip of the wine Billy had run out and gotten special for the night.

"I'm well aware, but this is overdue anyways," he says softly. "You're mine and you deserve nice nights." He presses a warm kiss to the spot just under my ear, making me blush. "My baby needs spoiled."

"Well, I certainly feel spoiled," I say contently, finishing the last bite. I lean back in my chair, letting him explore my neck as his gentle hands work their way through my many knots, whispering sweet nothings in my ear all the while.

"Wait until I tell you what kinds of oils I slipped in your bath as well," he whispers in my ear.

If this is repentance, he should snore more often.

I'm stoned, zoned, and completely naked across the bed as Billy carefully massages my legs, phone propped on a spare pillow beside my head as I stare blankly at the show in front of me.

His hands are slick with oil, gliding across my skin with ease as he works at a knot on the back of my calf.

"I've been ignoring you too much," he muses, his voice soft and loving as his thumbs work in small circles. "You're much too tense for my taste."

I am too stupid to respond with English. I will tell him later about the day I've had at work, running around for fifteen different customers and a boss I can hardly stand. But for now a low moan will do, my mind too blurry from substance use and the stimulation that makes me dizzy with want.

"Does that feel good?" Billy asks, pressing a small kiss against my shin. I moan again, eyes fluttering shut. "Wanna make sure my baby sleeps well tonight."

Oh, I'll sleep phenomenally.

His hands abandon me, searching for the bottle of lavender scented oil, coating his hands before reaching for the back of my thighs, right below the curve of my ass.

"How's the show?" He asks me, digging deeply into my tissue in a way that makes me moan, arching my back subconsciously as the stimulation takes over my thoughts. "That good?" He asks, voice deep as he chuckles.

"Very good," I confirm, my voice soft against the freshly washed bedsheets. I have never said a bad thing about this man. I would never curse the provider of relaxation. Any claims otherwise are false and slandering against me and my man.

"You're grinding against the bed, you realize that, right?" Billy asks bemused, his thumbs drawing deep circles against the inside of my thighs, making me gasp in want. "There something else you want?"

Whatever strain he has given me has made me nonverbal, but the squeak I let out is answer enough. For me, anyways.

"I need words, baby. Words. Vague noises are not consent," he says softly.

"Motherfucker that noise was not vague," I snap, lifting my head up briefly before resuming my mindless appreciation against the bed. Billy's laugh echoes throughout the room, his hand lightly smacking my ass before reaching for the small towel and bottle of lube on the nightstand, wiping off his hands before squeezing a generous dollop onto two digits.

His fingers press against my entrance slowly, coating it with the thick, cold lube, making me squirm and gasp against him, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"I'm gonna start off slow, okay baby?" He says gently, still stroking my entrance as he positions himself above me. "You let me know if you want me to change something."

I moan in understanding, but it's not enough for him. His voice is low and rumbling by my ear, his lips teasing at my shoulder.

"Say yes if you understand," he says softly, breath hot against my ear.

"Yes," I say just as soft.

"Good," he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my neck. "Good baby."

His cock slowly sinks inside of me, the pot from earlier making the sensations deeper and more vibrant as I feel the sweet stretch even at the top of my head. Billy moves slow, taking his time to enter me as though we had all the time in the world. I can't help but pant against the bed, whining for more intelligibly as Billy sheethes himself to the hilt, pressing himself against my g-spot just perfectly at this angle, no real effort needed when I'm like this. My eyes roll at the touch, my hips bucking in uneven, stupid rhythms against him as he remains still inside of me. Fuck it, he could snore in my ear right now and I'd let him.

Billy's voice is breathy, moaning as he brushes my hair with his hand. "Let me know when you want me to move," he moans in my ear.

"I am," I whine. "Fuck me."

He chuckles against me, his voice rough as he continues in a slow, even rhythm. "You don't want to go slow first?" He asks, pressing a kiss to my spine as he slowly slides against my spot again, his cock making me clench tightly around him.

"Uh uh," I moan, still trying to buck rapidly against him. "Want more."

"You usually get so overstimulated if I start fast at this angle," he teases, ignoring the pace of my hips in favor of his. "Can't even finish fucking you if I start out fast, you're so sensitive by the end."

That's a lie. Terrible lie. Slander.

"Do you really want me to go fast?" He asks softly, one hand finding my hip to guide me to a better rhythm.

"Motherfucker, yes," I whine, lifting my head. He chuckles, much to my annoyance. "Fuck me like you own me."

At that he grabs my hips, slamming me against his base before he begins to violently abuse my hole, fucking directly into my g-spot and never missing once as he fucks me hard enough to make the bed slam into the wall, making a painting rattle on the wall behind us.

"Jesus- fuck- wait!" I cry, my hips subconsciously trying to escape his abuse while I clench around him, silently begging for more.

He slows his pace once more, pressing such soft, sweet kisses to my spine as he speaks. "See? You can't handle it like that. You're half fucked out already and that wasn't even five seconds."

He's absolutely right and I should listen to him more. How wise is my man.

"If I was really fucking you like I owned you," he says lowly between slow, long thrusts, his hands guiding my hips gently as I whimper with each move like the bitch I am. "I'd pick the pace. But here you are, telling me what to do and changing your mind the moment I give it to you. So indecisive is my baby." Very indecisive. Go fast again. "And I'll do whatever you want like a good man should."

I will stay home with the kids. I will scrub my permanently stained linoleum floor until it shines like the top of the Chrysler building. I will spend my days barefoot and pregnant if he so requests of me. In Jesus's name, Amen.

Billy moves slow and purposefully against me, grinding his cock and moaning in my ear while he watches me, smacking my ass here and there when he wants to watch it bounce against his hips.

"So pretty," he moans. "Even prettier when you cum. Is there something I can do to help?"

I whine against the bed, feeling edged and whoreish with his thick dick pulsing inside of me, fucking me into blind submission and making me willing to do anything he says.

"Would someone like for me to go faster?" He coos sweetly, slightly speeding up his tempo as he slams more gently into my spot. "Does my baby wanna get fucked?"

I nod stupidly, whining and huffing as he slowly continues to gain speed.

"You gonna cum around me? Take my cock real nice and fast?" He asks, smacking my ass once more. I clench upon impact, making him do it again and again until he laughs.

"Cum in me," I moan. All care has been thrown out the window, my head scrambled and vision blind.

"Yeah? You want that?" He teases. His balls smack loudly against my front, offering additional stimulation and making my eyes roll. "Looks like you're drooling over it." Motherfucker I am, and?

"I'm gonna fuck you so good you sleep for days, sweetheart," he moans in my ear, slamming into me hard enough to make me squeal. "Kept dreaming about you for the past week. Kept getting all nice and hard only to have you wake me up before I could fuck you. Come to find out I was keeping my poor baby up, being my own cockblock."

His cock pistons in and out of me at impressive speed, one of his hands slamming against the bars of the metal headboard to offer him stability while he fucks me, the bed ramming against the wall so loudly it's all I can hear besides him. I think the painting fell.

"Now we can both sleep better at night. My balls empty, your ass nice and full. Think I'll do it again tomorrow," he muses, slamming me against the bed, pushing me higher. "And again." And higher. "And again." Until the top of my head pounds against the ceiling. "Till the fucken cows come home."

Moo, bitch. Moo.

With a pathetic scream, hardly able to make any noise due to the violent climax, I cry his name as I clench around him. His dick pounds my head into the wall absuively as he chants my name like it's the only word ever known to him, his voice raising in volume until he's shouting it so clear it raises above the rocking of the bed, loud enough surely for the neighbors to hear. I'm hardly even aware of when he cums, or really anything at this point, his dick pulsing within me and fucking his admittedly larger than usual load into me so deep you'd think there'd be no chance of it to escape. I'm only aware he came when his cock finally softens, our cum dripping and pooling underneath of me in a mixed puddle when he slips out with a small whimper, his breath so heavy and wheezing I'm almost scared he'll pass out on top of me.

"Wanna go again?" He jokes, his voice worryingly pathetic as he tries to laugh, sounding more like a death rattle than anything. All I respond with is a shaky thumbs down, my head spinning from the possible concussion I may genuinely have.

It's an effective sleep method. Works wonders for both of us.

                              ▪︎》◇《▪︎

After he slips out of the house one winter morning with my gun tucked in the back of his jeans, I can't tell you how much I'd give to hear him snore against our lavender scented bed one last time, feeling his arms that are now ash and bones on the floor of a gas station just outside of town. My only company now being his ghost echoing his bright laughter down the darkened halls of what was once our home.

You like my ending bbgirl? Special just for youuu.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

Masterlist

[munson-blurbs]

Argyle x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: literally just Argyle being the sweetest during sex with his pregnant girl.

WC: 820

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), pregnant!Reader, Argyle calls Reader "mama" (but no mommy kink), allusion to daddy kink

A/N: shoutout to @chatteringfox for being the most feral over Argyle with me--not only for this fic, but also 24/7. Also, happy birthday Eduardo Franco. Sorry that we want to have your stoner babies.

--

Argyle was always gentle during sex. He held you as though you were the most precious thing to him, pressing soft kisses down the column of your neck. Even when you were on top, he’d languidly roll his hips upwards to meet yours, never once rushing through or chasing his own orgasm until he was certain you’d gotten yours.

Part of that could be attributed to the marijuana haze he kept himself in, but the primary reason was simply because he loved you so much and wanted to savor every moment.

Now, he braced his arms on either side of your body, groaning as he slid inside you. You were so wet for him, so eager and ready, a regular occurrence since you’d entered your second trimester. The nausea had subsided and had been replaced with an influx of hormones that had you craving his touch every second of the day. 

“Fuck, princesa,” Argyle murmured, sucking in a sharp breath. “How do you always feel so goddamn good?”

You could only whimper in reply, relishing in the way his happy trail brushed against your bump. Your fingers dug into his back, drawing him even closer. His raven curtain of hair draped over one side of you and tickled your bare arm.

Now fully seated within you, Argyle lifted one hand and let his thumb graze over your left nipple, his tongue swiping over the right. It was too much; the feel of him playing with your breasts was overstimulating on its own, but then adding in the additional sensitivities of pregnancy…

“A-Args,” you whispered, your breath hitching in your throat as he kissed you.

“Yeah?” The word, said against your lips, sent vibrations through your body.

It was impossible to concentrate with him filling you so perfectly. Every thrust was both lazy and intentional, the kind of movement that simultaneously said ‘I’m safe with you,’ and ‘I’ll take care of you.’

“S’too much.” Your eyes met his, and all at once he understood. This wasn’t you being a brat or teasing him for more. 

The hand on your breast moved to your side and caressed your bump with a tenderness you’d only ever imagined before Argyle. You relaxed into his touch and allowed yourself to be immersed in all of him. 

Argyle would always be Argyle, true to his core. The whites of his eyes were tinged pink from smoke. His fingers were strong and perfect for massages (a back massage was, ironically, how you’d ended up pregnant). The scents of cologne, weed, and flour mingled together and created an aura so utterly and uniquely Argyle. 

“‘S that better, Mama?”

And, oh, did that denomer do it for you. 

Your half-lidded eyes widened, your own movements temporarily stalled as you processed what he said. 

The corners of Argyle’s mouth curved into a gentle smile the moment he clocked your reaction. “Such a beautiful Mama, having my baby. Y’know,” he nipped at your bottom lip, “I always thought you were beautiful, from the moment we met. But now? Holy shit, s’like I didn’t even know what beauty was until now.”

Wrapping your legs around him, you pulled him in even deeper, eliciting a groan from both you and him. 

“Little faster,” you urged him. “I’m so fucking close.”

Argyle tucked his lips into his mouth, focusing solely on giving you what you needed. He thrusted into you faster than before, each movement sending a ripple of pleasure through your body. 

“C-Can’t hold out m-much longer, Mama.”

You nodded and threaded your fingers through his hair. “S’okay. I’m right—right—oh my god, yes!”

Your orgasm wasn’t gradual; it crashed into you with unfounded speed. You could feel every inch of him, the ridge between the head of his cock and the shaft hitting your sweet spot and making your toes curl. 

“Baby—Princesa—I’m c-coming,” Argyle panted, his breath warm against your neck. “That’s it, fuck, take it. Take my cum. Take it all…unngh.”

Argyle spilled into you with everything he had. His grip tightened around you as though he was grounding himself, lest he wake up and realize it was all a dream. 

Lucky for both of you, this was reality. 

He flopped down on his back, his bare chest heaving as he came down from the high. Perspiration darkened the thatch of hair between his pecs. 

“So.” Argyle turned his head to look at you. “Being called ‘Mama’ really does it for ya, huh?”

You gave him a wry grin. “Apparently.”

“Good to know.” He breathed out. “Good to know.”

“Why, you plan on using that to your advantage?”

He laughed and pulled you closer, letting his hand rest on your tummy. “I would never,” he said mockingly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Good.” You shifted so you were facing him, mischief dancing in your eyes. “Because then I just might have to see how you’d react if I called you ‘Daddy.’”

--

[cowgirlfawn]

ALL I WANT IS YOU

୨ৎ plot: suguru thinks he’s going insane and it’s all your fault

୨ৎ warnings: fem!reader, a little creepy suguru, he follows you around campus and takes photos of u, unprotected piv, oral (m!receiving) angst, hurt/comfort, suguru panics low-key, let me know if i missed anything

୨ৎ wc: 1.8k

୨ৎ notes: first fic on this account hope u guys enjoy !!

suguru thinks he’s going insane, he feels like you’re the only thing that he can think about, he doesn’t want to think about anything else . you’re his classmate, you don’t even know him and he doesn’t even know you, yet he only wants you . he follows you sometimes, just around campus . and on rare occasions he takes pictures of you, you don’t even know about his collection in his phone of you, it’s sick . that’s the only word to describe it . maybe he’s sick

it was another dreadful day for him, he had two classes with you and he made a promise to himself that he would talk to you . he was surprised to see that you sat down next to him . once he was faced with you he almost immediately got up and left, but no . he needed to talk to you . he only wanted to talk to you to see how you were doing, he pushed the thought of him talking to you just to feed his obsession to the back of his mind

fuck, just in his “luck” you chose to wore a shirt jean skirt, maybe you wore it for him? he chuckled at the thought, the sound earning a side glance from you

he was weird, you knew that . yet you were drawn to him, of course you noticed the way he would follow you and rarely take photos of you, who wouldn’t notice? with his frame it’s too obvious . you made it your mission to drive him to a point where he would have to ask you out, so you chose your shortest skirt and sat down right next to him, your plush thighs expanding in your seat catching suguru’s eye

so, he was right . you did wear it for him

once class was over suguru felt exhausted, like he couldn’t take anything more . yet to his luck he had three classes left, one with you . as he noticed you grabbing your bag and heading out the door he stopped you, his large hand planted on your shoulder . your body flinched before you turned around, “hey” he cleared his throat . “hello suguru” your cheery tone dissolved his worries of you not wanting to even be around him

“listen—i really didn’t understand anything the professor said…if you understood anything could we-study together” he sounded so fake, and you knew . you knew that he understood every word uttered from your professors mouth . “yeah of course, be at my dorm at 8 pm” his eyes widened, holy shit did he actually have a study date with you? he nodded as you told him your dorm number

the rest of day felt almost heavenly . he couldn’t wait to get to his dorm and get ready . once he did he quickly showered and changed into sweats and a t-shirt, he didn’t really think about what he was gonna wear, you probably didn’t think about it either right?

wrong . you stood in front of your mirror, multiple choices of clothes in hand . after a half hour of deciding you settled on a pair of flared pants and a baby tee, casual . very casual !

the clock quickly stuck to eight, suguru was hurrying down the halls to you, and as 20:00 turned into 20:10 he was there . fuck he was ten minutes late, “she probably didn’t care”, he thought . you did care, in fact for ten minutes you sat in your desk chair with your leg bouncing up and down . when you finally heard the knock on your door you sighed out of relief . you swung the door open to be met with a tired and out of breath suguru, you giggled at the sight and let him in

he sat down in the second desk chair and pulled his study books out . the whole session he was distracted by you, the way your hair fell in front of your face, of the way your ass looked in your jeans . he couldn’t help himself, you were too much . he wanted to fuck you, right there right now . he couldn’t though, not yet . before he knew it your time was up, an hour and a half of him just staring at you and occasionally nodding, not listening to a word you were saying

when he was back in his dorm he flopped down into his bed, sighing and running his hand through his hair . he already missed you . guess now he knew ways to see you

it became a weekly occurrence for him to go over to your place and “study” . he didn’t really need it but he truly believed that you thought he did . but you weren’t stupid, you knew he didn’t need any of the shit you telling him, all he needed was you . the third study session you decided to taunt him, putting on your lowest cut shirt and wearing your tightest pants . he was in deep now, he couldn’t stop staring at your cleavage, his eyes practically glued to your tits

“eyes up here sugu” you said with a giggle . and fuck that nickname you called him made him go feral . when was he not when around you?

now it was the sixth study session, at this point he knew that you knew, but that didn’t stop him from showing up to your door and letting you explain the lesson from that day to him . this time though, it was getting hotter, meaning he was was in jorts and you were in short shorts . he was utterly fucked

the way your thighs and ass expanded when you sat down he just couldn’t help but get hard . “fuck” he whispered mid through the session, “what’s wrong sugu?” you questioned, your tone naive . “you know what’s wrong” he stated, he knew that you could tell what was fucking him up, it was you . “i don’t know what you’re talking about sugu” you awkwardly giggled, shit shit maybe you really didn’t know what was wrong, maybe he’d been fooling himself this whole time, maybe you didn’t want him

the panic set in and he suddenly and quickly started to pack his books in his cross body bag . before you could say another word he was gone, the door slamming shut and the room silent, what just happened?

for the next week you didn’t see him, you asked around about him, nobody had seen him . you made your way over to his dorm, gently knocking at his door . you heard shuffling and the door opened, he looked terrible . he had bags under his eyes and his hair looked messy, he cursed under his breath when he saw you . “are you okay?” you said with worry in your tone, “do i look okay?” he spat back . your face dropped and he apologised

“can i come in?” he nodded, “it’s a bit of a mess but—“ before he could finish you were already inside and the door behind him was shut . you looked around, this place was a bit of a disaster . “go take a shower, sugu . i’ll clean up” he shook his head, “you don’t need to—“ he was quickly cut off, “i want to, now go” he nodded his head and made his way to his bedroom to pick up some clothes

as he showered you started to work on his kitchen and living room, it wasn’t too bad so by the time he got out you were done . trash bags were in front of his door . “thank you” he whispered, sounding on the verge of tears . “hey it’s okay, it’s the least i can do” you cupped his cheek and he swallowed hard

tears pool in his eyes, he wanted you so bad, in so many ways .

“don’t cry” you cooed, he dug his cheek into your palm . “sit down on the couch, sugu” he complied, the sight of you in front of him as his legs were spread turned him on, the tears in his eyes dried and his sadness was replaced with need . “i want you” he whispered, you chuckled, “you have me” you got on your knees

that’s when he realised that he had control, he could do whatever he wanted, so he did . his pants were soon unbuttoned, his shirt discarded somewhere in his living room . he groaned and hissed as he felt your tongue come in contact with his tip . you swirled it around before taking him inch by inch into your mouth, he moaned and his head fell back against his wall

“that’s it sweetheart, take me” his praise encouraged you to go harder, and he didn’t mind . you started to bop your head up and down, your tongue going from the bottom of his shaft to his tip, he felt like he was in heaven, it couldn’t get better . that was until you hallowed your cheeks, then it did get better

he came with a loud moan while thick ropes of cum filled your senses, the salty taste spreading across your tongue . his hips bucked and you slid your mouth off him, now he wanted to try feel you . he wanted all of you . you moved from the floor back up to the couch, straddling his lap, “i want you to sit on it” suguru said as he kissed your neck, his cock growing hard again

“okay” you let out a weak whine before aligning your cunt with his dick . “just put the tip in, you can take it” you slid down taking just the tip, the stretch already hurt, but like he said . you could take it . slowly you sat on it completely, his girth filling you to the brim . he felt like he could come right there with just the feeling of your warm gummy walls

you started to move your hips, rocking them back and forth . small whines escaped your throat, your head rested on suguru’s shoulder . your moans being swallowed by his shirt . his hands were placed in the small of your back, helping you go up and down on him, you felt his tip practically abuse your cervix as he sped up his pace

“i need you so bad” he muttered, “m’right there sugu” you whined . he was panting at this point, baby hairs sticking to his forehead, his chest was rising and falling as he felt his orgasm approach . “m’close, baby” the nickname made you moan, right into his ear, something he’d never thought he’d get to experience

he felt your cunt clench and twitch around him, “there we go baby, c’mon, cum for me” he spoke in a demanding manner . with his words you creamed all around him, your nectar coating his cock . as soon as he felt your grip onto his shoulders and cum he fucked himself into you until he came inside you . his warm cum spilling into your needy womb

you sat there for a couple seconds, regaining your breath . “i wanna be your girlfriend, sugu” your words shocked him, they shouldn’t but they did, “well—i wanna be your—boyfriend” he said nervously . you stared up at him, your doe eyes sucking him right in, that was it . he was in love

[smittywing]

WIP Wednesday: Marriage 101 (Part 3)

It's been a DAY on my side, so enjoy some fic.

Earlier parts here: | 1 | 2 |

From last time...

“Okay, yeah,” Jason conceded. “I guess I’ll have to stop by for my mail now and then.”

“You’d better,” Tim told him. “If Gotham U sends you a ginormous envelope, you have exactly one hour to get over here and open it or I’m doing it for you.”

Jason dropped his head back and laughed. If Tim watched the ripple of his throat, well, he was married to the man. “Fair,” he allowed with a grin. “So, uh, see you around, I guess?”

“Yeah,” said Tim. “See you around.”

And that was that. 

$

Tim didn't tell anyone. He was aware that Jason had some kind of conversation with Alfred that resulted in a hell of a lot of side-eye, but no commentary. 

Patrol happened. School happened. The occasional global crisis happened. Tim saw Jason maybe three times. 

Then, the envelope came. 

ONE HOUR, he texted. 

Jason showed up on his motorcycle, in his civvies, in fourteen minutes. 

“Where were you?” Tim asked as Jason took the envelope out of his hands and tore the flap. 

“Close,” Jason answered and yanked out a sheaf of paper. “Holy shit.”

“You're in,” Tim said, so confident that it didn't need to be a question. 

“I’m in,” Jason breathed. 

“Yeah!” Tim grabbed Jason’s shoulders and shook him hard. “You’re in!”

“I'm in!” Jason whooped. He wrapped Tim in a bear hug that might have cracked a rib of a less sturdy person. It tipped him off his feet and he let Jason whip him around in a half circle before releasing him. “Wow.” Jason said, straightening awkwardly. He ran a hand through the front of his hair and then settled both hands on his hips. “I wasn’t sure this was actually going to work,” he admitted.

“I was,” Tim said confidently. “Want to see your room?”

“I have a room?” Jason asked, his eyes meeting Tim’s. “Of my very own?”

“Yeah, we’re that modern kind of married where we each have our own space,” Tim joked. “C’mon.” He led Jason upstairs to the third floor where four bedrooms filled the corners of the narrow townhouse.

It was the second best bedroom in the place, with an en suite bathroom and a pair of windows that led to a fire escape. The walls were painted a warm white but it was neither as big nor as elegant as one of Bruce’s penthouse rooms would have been. The king-sized bed had a blue comforter and the dresser and nightstands were cherry wood.

“The closet has a false back for your suits and the wifi password is on the desk,” he said. There was a laptop on the desk, too, a low-end Wayne Tech one appropriate for a college student with a pre-loaded search history and secure messaging platforms hidden in a second operating system.

“Pretty sweet base,” Jason commented. “This mine?” he asked, tapping the computer.

“Already loaded with everything college student Jason Peterson could need,” Tim told him, “and a few extras.”

“Nice. Mind if I leave a few books up here?”

“What, no, you can leave yourself if you want,” Tim said. “I’m all by myself here and you’re supposed to be my husband, so you know, move in already.”

“Yeah, but.” Jason looked thoughtful. “It’s nice and close to campus. You don’t mind a roommate? For real?”

“For real,” Tim swore. “I mean, also it would look weird if you didn’t have some stuff here, right?”

“Right,” Jason said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll bring some stuff ‘round. So does this place have a kitchen?”

$

Since he wasn’t living on campus, Tim hadn’t planned to attend any of the freshman orientation events. This wasn’t high school. His plan was to get in, ace his classes, score his degree, and move on to Wayne Enterprises full-time. 

He had not accounted for Jason’s plan.

“The English department is having a sundae party,” Jason said, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen. It was a good lean, the kind that made his shoulders look extra big and his waist look extra narrow. “Come with me in case I don’t know anyone.”

“Of course you don’t know anyone,” Tim said, looking up from his case file. “It’s freshman orientation. The whole point is to meet people you don’t know.”

“Are you unfamiliar with the concept of wingman?” Jason asked. “C’mon. It’s ice cream. And toppings. You’re not going to get a better offer today.”

Jason had a point.

$

Banana Karenina. James and the Giant Peaches & Cream. One Flew Over the Coco’s Nut.

“They don’t have neapolitan,” Jason complained, studying the long table of thematic flavors. 

“No one could come up with a good pun,” said one of the grad students standing behind the table with a scoop. “Skor and Peace?”

Jason shook his head. “I’ll go with the Crazy Rum Raisin,” he decided.

Tim edged down the table looking for something…else. He wasn’t sure what but he was staying far away from the Grape Gatsby float, which was vanilla ice cream floating in a vat of grape soda. He paused in front of something called, The Coffet.

“Is this coffee?” he asked. 

“What book is that?” Jason asked, leaning up behind him.

“The Prophet!” the grad student said, already scooping out a serving for Tim. “By Khalil Gibran! Get it!?”

Tim did not get it.

But he did want coffee ice cream. 

“That’s a stretch, my dude,” Jason said, but Tim was already making off with his cup to top it with hot fudge.

With Tim as his wingman (or emotional support sidekick, Tim figured), Jason met some of the grad students and talked about the different classes they were assisting. Tim ate his ice cream and nodded at appropriate points. He was a tiny bit antsy about the reading he had to do for the first day of classes but he was a fast reader and watching Jason talk about the female authors in the 1800s was pretty amazing. After his dish of The Coff-et, he got a scoop of something called Parable of the (Elder)Flower and sprawled under a tree next to Jason who had withdrawn to try Banana Karenina.

“I’m surprised you wanted to come to this stuff,” Tim admitted. “I thought you would find it…” Tim considered the right word. “Frivolous.”

“Oh, it definitely is,” Jason agreed. He tilted his head to the side and ate a spoonful of ice cream. “But it’s nice, pretending I’m a real boy sometimes, you know?”

Tim snuck a peek over at Jason’s face. Jason was smiling a little and he looked young and - 

Jason was only two years older than Tim. It was easy to forget that sometimes when he was acting like an edgelord hatched from a Lazarus Pit. Tim had been a precocious kid, but he’d been a kid, with school and chores, and hobbies, even if those hobbies had included stalking Batman and Robin. Jason’s hobbies had included stealing tires so he could eat and dying at the hands of the Joker.

“Yeah,” Tim said. “It is.”

$

“You have actual food in your refrigerator,” Stephanie accused. 

“Ooh,” Tim said, abandoning the radio receiver he was dismantling and going to peer over her shoulder. “Anything good?”

“Somehow it makes me feel better that you don’t even know what kind of food you have,” Steph said. “I think those are deviled eggs?” 

“Oh, yeah, get them, and some of the spinach dip,” Tim advised. 

“There’s spinach dip? With actual spinach?”

“There’s chips on the top of the fridge.” Tim pried a transistor loose and said, “I told you Jason was staying here, right? For school?”

“Yeah, for school, and for cooking you amazing shit,” Steph said. “Speaking of, did you get your schedule?”

“Got it this morning,” Tim said, sliding a whole deviled egg into his mouth and meeting Steph’s fist-bump.

By “this morning” he meant the early hours of the previous day, hacking into the registrar’s office and rearranging his classes into a more ideal schedule as he munched on some post-patrol cereal and ran an upgrade on his phone. For the most part, he had received the engineering classes he had selected earlier in the summer, skipping over the courses he had taken while he was in high school. However, Gotham U had freshman requirements and one of them was an English class. Technically, Tim had tested out of that but it occurred to him that Jason would not have tested out of anything. So, he had hacked into Jason Peterson’s registration and committed to memory the course and section numbers of the two literature classes Jason had picked. One of them fit nicely in his schedule. It would be good to have a class with Jason. 

For…reasons.

$

Reasons he couldn’t necessarily remember when he slid into that particular class thirty seconds before the bell.  Jason was sitting in the front row, dwarfing the kids sitting around him, and holding court on the works of Jane Austen.

“Tim!” he waved. Tim made it a policy never to sit in the front row because it was too obvious when he inevitably had to skip out of class for crime fighting, but he slipped into a seat in the row behind Jason, which worked out because Jason was sitting sideways in his seat. “Guys, this is my husband, Tim,” he told the others.

Tim widened his eyes at Jason. He hadn’t expected they’d be introducing themselves as a married couple to the other students. Or to the professors. Jason widened his eyes in response and then *winked* at Tim. 

“This is Greg, Daniel, and Rebecca,” he introduced his - Jason had *friends* already? “They’re in my Classical Lit class that met yesterday. Greg, Daniel, and Rebecca murmured hellos to Tim, who murmured something back but was saved from further socialization by the arrival of the professor. 

She was a tall woman with pale hair swept back in a French twist and pince nez glasses perched on her nose, who introduced herself as Professor Worthington. She seemed a little formal compared to professors in Tim’s advanced engineering class, but Tim assumed riding herd on a required freshman English course did that to a person.

“When I call your name,” she instructed, “answer with your hometown and your favorite author.”

What. Tim didn’t have a favorite author. At least he didn’t think he did. He tried to remember reading for fun but that was something that happened pre-Robin. Next, he scanned back for required school reading and what was the least tedious to read. 

“Timothy Drake?”

“Uh. I’m from Gotham and uh, my favorite author is - “  Crap on a stick. “Sun Tzu?”

“Interesting choice,” Professor Worthington said skeptically. She squinted through her glasses at Tim for a moment. “Are you a chess player, Mr. Drake?”

“When I have time,” he said. He so rarely did have time, but yes, he saw the connection. He let out the breath he’d been holding as quietly as possible. Sun Tzu was a good choice. He’d only written one book, it was short, and Tim had read it. 

Professor Worthington nodded and moved on. There were about a hundred and twenty students in the class so it took her a while to get to Jason. Long enough for about a dozen Austens, a few Orwells, some Bronte’s, a handful of Vonneguts, and one Stephen King, which earned that student a general snicker.

“The best novels are those we can engage with,” Professor Worthington said mildly in his defense.  “Jason Peterson.”

“Gotham born and bred,” Jason said. “And Mary Oliver.”

“Mary Oliver,” Professor Worthington said thoughtfully. “The Night Traveler?”

“Wild Geese,” Jason countered.

Tim, who had never heard of Mary Oliver, tried to Google her work on his laptop without moving his hands very much. He had seen Jason read Austen and Bronte, was she in that era?

“‘You do not have to be good,” Jason said and wow this was poetry. His voice was deep and mellow and curled around the words in a way Tim had never heard. “You do not have to walk on your knees; for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body; love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile, the world goes on.’”

“And you’re Mr. Drake’s husband,” Professor Worthington said dryly. “Interesting pairing, you two.”’

She moved on but Tim felt the words of the poem, in Jason’s voice, jammed up in his head.  He kicked the back of Jason’s chair and mouthed, “That was great,” when Jason turned around.

Jason flushed across the bridge of his nose and the highest part of his cheeks, summer freckles popping into view. “Don’t you dare tell anyone,” he hissed in return.

Tim shook his head no. He wasn’t going to tell anyone. This was too perfect, too precious, to share.

$

[thechaoticplayer]

Eating His Prey

author's note: I really wanted to write a fic about Ike, more specifically sadistic and yandere Ike because holy shit it was kinda hot what he was doing sheeeeeesh Summary: Being such a sly (apparently my keyboard wanted to make you slay so you're also very slay) and mischievous little fox you are, you decide to mess around in a wolf's territory. However, you're in for a wild reality check... Contains: degrading oh wow, dom Ike, hes literally using you, and all that spicy stuff mmm

Hunting in the wolf's territory was an adventure within itself, the new terrain and yummy prey was something that you desired very much. Besides, wouldn't be fun to mess around a bit? You are a great predator yourself, enjoying making your prey squeak and cry underneath your arms. You'd drag out their suffering for a good while. It was all fun and games for you.

You are currently traipsing through the forest full of crowded trees, scattered patches of sunlight kissing the grass floor. You finished having a good meal of a rabbit, a cute little thing you almost felt bad for devouring. Your nose quivered, sniffing the air and catching a scent.

Wolf scent. But your senses told you he was away at the moment. You grin, lips pulled back to reveal canine teeth. His little home! Maybe you could get some sort of rabbit shit and litter it all across his home. Maybe you could build a little fort out of sticks for him.

You dart in and out bushes with ease, your feet silently tapping the ground. Your prey hardly ever heard you coming, which was fortunate and unfortunate at once. Unaware little things. Thank god you were an excellent predator and not some weak ass prey!

You find yourself at the mouth of a cave, looking awfully gloomy inside. You sniff once more. Yup, his scent is much stronger here. Without a care in the world, you skip on inside.

It was very dark for a good few feet, your night vision clicking in after a few seconds. Bones lay scattered across the cave floor: skulls, ribs, femurs, arms. Some even arranged in twisted ways, like horrific art. Wolf must be some sort of sick freak. Not like you were anyone to judge. But still. Freak.

But it gradually began to get brighter, and you walk faster, you didn't want to dilly dally after all. You emerge within a bigger room, with a hole on the ceiling like a window. You notice there was no patch of leaves or soft grass for rest (what the fuck does he actually sleep on this hard ass rock? The wolf is literally a psycho) and surprisingly, no weird bone art. Just tallies on the wall, made with his claw you presumed, lining the walls. Several rows after row. What is this? his body count?

Eh. you don't care. You just wanna create a mess out of his home.

You drag some of the bones from the corridor and toss them around. Snapping some in half and creating your own work of art. You giggle as you line up some bones, a picture of a cock on his floor now. Your tail swishes back and forth with excitement. Perhaps you should go back to the riverbed, gather some mud and plaster it all over the wolf's walls. A nice touch to such a bland room.

You turn your head and freeze. Your heart rate increases.

The wolf himself is here, staring you down with golden eyes. Glowing from the darkness, expression blank as he watched you. Caught-red handed. How long was here there anyway? How did you not hear his entrance? as for the smell, his scent was all over the place, and it is very strong. Luck was simply not on your side.

"Well well well," the grey wolf chuckles darkly, sending electricity down your spine. Instinct told you to run your ass out of there, but you froze, out of fear. "What's a little fox doing here in my domain? Wrecking my home, hm?"

You say nothing, eyes glancing behind him. The only exit. A laugh, as he approaches still.

"Since we are going to get very acquainted, my name is Ike Eveland," the wolf says cheerfully and you furrow your brows because what the hell? "And now, answer me this: what gave you the idea to come here? Death wish?"

"...b-because i wanna," your shaky voice replies and you clear your throat. You straighten your body and stare back at him, never backing down. Not too some puny wolf. "I go wherever I want."

Ike tsks at you, stalking closer. "Now now, I like the confidence yes, but do you realise your situation, dear?" He smiles, sharp teeth bared. "I'm going to eat you alive."

Finally, he launches himself at you, claws glinting in the sunlight. Immediately your legs tense and push you, sprinting below him out of the room and into the corridor. Your heart roars in your ears as you run as far as you possibly can out of the cave, breathing heavily.

What a fucking insane little shit! He was definitely a bit smaller than other wolves you met, but something about the way his sinister gaze sent shivers down your spine. You hated to admit it, but the wolf was actually pretty intimidating. His eyes were such a lovely shade of gold though...

You shake your head and keep running, hopping through a small river to make him lose your scent. You turn towards another direction, toward the familiar big tree you liked to lean against when you wanted to think. It was a good distance from the wolf's territory, so you should be fine. Besides, why would Ike come all the way over here for one silly fox? Heh.

You arrive at the foot of the tree and plop down, regaining your oxygen. Damn, you've never ran so much in your life. You curl your fluffy tail around you, plucking out leaves. Your beating heart slowed a bit as relief flooded your veins. That was simply a vibe check from the gods above. You have learned to stay away from there in the near by future, because if you went there again, you wouldn't have a future.

You lean down with the balls of your hand on the grass, stretching with your ass in the air and felt every bone crack in your back. You sigh contently. It has always felt good to do that after a run.

Your ear twitched and a sound of rustling bushes interrupts your stretch. You sit back, suddenly alert. You sniff the air, but only smell your wet fur. You survey your surroundings, and seeing nothing. A squirrel? However, you stayed cautious and kept your ears open.

While you were cleaning your teeth, another sound, the noise of a twig snapping under a huge weight. It is closer to you than before.

With no warning, you high-tail it out of there, not even turning to see who it is because you could already tell by that menacing aura alone. The grey wolf is hunting you.

"Go away!" you shout, shooting through bushes and swerving around thick trees. "Go find some dumb rabbit to devour!"

"You're much more intriguing!" Ike calls, and you're startled by how you can't hear his footsteps and yours is loud as shit. "Let's play a game, huh?"

"I don't play no games!" You snap, diving into a fox hole made from another fox and scurrying through the small tunnel. He couldn't get through because he's too large! ha!

"It'll be fun!" He calls from outside the tunnel. "Let's play hide and seek, little one!" Ike sings, and you find it oddly pretty.

Dude, really?

You shoot out the other end and continue sprinting. Fuck out of here with that hide and seek nonsense!

"I'll be the seeker," Ike says from behind, startling so much you almost stumble. "I'll give you some time to hide!"

His voice fades and you glance over your shoulder. Gone. Kapoof. Finally, holy shit, his presence was getting annoying as shit. Wait. Is he actually going to play hide and seek?

You curse in your mind, running as far as your legs could carry. You pause, chest heaving as you breath rapidly through your mouth. You turn in a circle, attempting to find a good hiding spot. You spy a big tree with a hollow center, obscured by a flower bush. It is right by a river too!

You dive into the hole without delay and try to rein in your breathing. You quickly adjust the bush so it didn't look like it was rammed through. It was not long before you felt that ominous presence again, your tail poofing up instantly.

"Little fox, where are you?" Ike coos from a good distance away. You cover your mouth with both hands. "You're a sly thing, huh? Walking around my own territory like it was your place. Now, it's time to make sure you learn your place."

You press yourself against the wall so hard, the grooves start to imprint on your skin. You're starting to regret your decisions. It seems like the wolf will never let you go until he captures you. You silently pray to whatever gods were listening.

Turns out they were not. They said screw you kiddo you're on your own.

"I will find you," Ike promises, his voice a tad closer. "I can feel your heart. So fast. Am I making you nervous?"

You grind your teeth, stopping yourself from growling. This cocky bastard.

"I tend to get that reaction a lot. I didn't think I was that horrifying, being on the smaller scale," Ike says and you roll your eyes because who the fuck asked? "I give off threatening vibes, supposedly. that's what the last one said anyway."

Huh?

"The last prey I had," the wolf continues, almost as if he just read your mind. "You must've seen the lines on the walls. All animals I've killed and perhaps devour. Sometimes, I kill for the fun of it and leave the carcass for other animals. Oh, how thrilling it is, watching the blood seep onto the floor and the life draining out of their eyes!" Ike sighs and your blood goes cold because it's outside your hiding place. A big hand reaches out to touch the flower in front of you. "Their blood, such a pretty shade of red just like this poppy."

The hand snakes out like a viper and snatches your ankle and you yell, kicking at him but he drags you out of the tree. Still kicking and screaming bloody murder, you kick his face in sheer desperation. His head turned toward another direction but his hand still latched onto your ankle.

"That wasn't very polite," Ike says, his gaze on you and you still. "What's wrong? Sad because you lost?"

"No way!" You claw at his hand but he doesn't budge. Just watches your pathetic attempts. "Let go!"

He leans in close to your face and you halt your actions. His breaths on your face as the wolf holds eye contact with you. The flecked color of brown in his eyes are mesmerizing to look at, entrancing. You swallow hard. Ike's hand slides from your ankle to your knee, to your thigh, sending goosebumps across your skin. He squeezes, his nails digging in slightly and you wince.

"No. You're mine to play with now, cute little fox."

Something about the way his voice went lower, or was it the hand movement? made your heart beat faster, and not in a frightened way. The wolf's hand travels to your hip and your breath hitches, still staring into the eyes of your enemy. The hand goes all the up from your arm, feather light, skins your collarbone and finds itself a new home on your neck. Wrapping his fingers around your delicate neck, Ike begins to squeeze lightly. Still looking down at you with those pretty eyes, hovering over you with such a smirk on his lips.

Ike stops squeezing, evidently surprised. He sniffs the air, but still a hand around your throat, his nose dipping lower. His nose bumps against your thigh and he growls low in his throat, yanking your legs apart. You squeak.

Arousal. Pure arousal, glittering in the light. Ike stares for a moment, still sniffing. His gaze slides back up to you and you stop breathing.

"Little fox..." he says quietly, and excitement jolts up. "Are you... aroused, right now?"

You don't respond, a bit ashamed. Why the hell were you getting horny for the man about to kill you? Who in their right mind-?

You gasp as you feel a hot mouth against your pussy, lapping up the juices with a shocking pace. You whine, struggling to get away but both his hands are on your thighs now, keeping you spread open and down on the grass as he ravaged your pretty little hole.

You tasted so fucking good, more than he could ever imagine! His nose bumps your clit as his tongue glides in and out of your wet hole, making squelching noises. You moan loudly, digging your nails into his scalp as you push him into you. Ike growls, sending more electricity up your spine. His teeth grazes your clit as he suckles the bundle of nerves and you gasp.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck- mph!" You cover your mouth, attempting to muffle your embarrassing sounds.

The wolf stops, narrowing his eyes at you. "Who said for you to hide those pretty noises?"

You bite your lip, legs squirming as the breeze hits your pussy. "I-I, well..."

"Keep our hands. Off. If you do so again, I'll make sure you never do it again, do you understand?"

You nod quickly, getting even more aroused by his threat and you subconsciously think, 'what the FUCK' and he smirks.

Ike eats you out like a wolf starved, fucking and teasing your hole with such accuracy you start to see stars, and watching him eat you like you were the best meal he ever had turned you on even more and you felt your walls clamp around his tongue.

"Good slut," Ike whispers against your clit, sucking on it for a brief moment before sinking his teeth into your thigh, making you yelp. "Horny little thing, for a predator who was going to devour you whole..." the wolf chuckles.

Your slick slathered across his face, buried in you, legs over his shoulders was a sight to see. You moan, "a-ah! Mmm, right there, t-there!" Your toes curl, eyes rolled back as the orgasm comes over in waves, making your body shake from pleasure as you release soft whines. But Ike isn't done, he's just getting started.

A finger pushes itself into you and you gasp yet again. It explores your walls, tickling that one spot. Then another is added, and Ike slowly pumps his fingers into you, watching with fascination as your pussy eagerly swallows his digits. Pulling him in.

"What a fucking whore," he notes, flicking his eyes up at your flushed cheeks and the drool leaking down your chin. "I haven't even put my cock in you yet."

Your walls squeeze around his fingers at the sentence and he laughs darkly. He bites your other thigh, drawing blood as you wince in pain. The wolf quickly laps up your blood with a groan. His fingers pump faster, curling at the right time and you moan in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Greedy bitch. Do you want me to let you cum?" He asks, gold glowing between your legs. New hickeys flourish all over your inner thighs along with obvious bite marks.

"Yes please," you moan, angling your hips up and he repeatedly hits that delicious spot. "Hah- f-fuck! N-ngh! Pleasepleasepleaseplease... "

Ike pulls his fingers out and you immediately protest but he shushes you. The loss of his fingers inside you was making you insane, until you get filled up by something entirely different.

"O-oh... " you moan quietly, his cock hard inside of you.

"Dumb fox." Ike takes your wrists and pins them above your head as he looks down at you. Your breath hitches. "Dumb, horny fox."

He snaps his hips and you make a guttural sound. Ike's pupils are big, drinking in every single detail from your sweat collecting on your skin, your body squirming underneath him, to your mouth popped open slightly. Oh, and those luscious lips of yours, appearing soft and unkissed...

Might as well make you his new toy now, eh?

Ike smashes his lips into yours as he fucks you fast and hard, shoving his tongue inside your mouth as you open to moan. Tongues dancing together and his muscle exploring every single space within your mouth. You tasted so delicious and felt so delicious, there was no way in hell he was letting you go now.

Satisfied with your bruised lips, the wolf goes to mark your neck. Biting, kissing, sucking. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he digs his nails into you. Tears running down your face as you hiccup, crying and saying "it's too much, it's too much'.

Ike could not give a damn. You brought this upon yourself, and now he's going to have fun with his new fucktoy.

[burntheedges-updates]

over again, chapter 1

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming. or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it)18+ minors DNI chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, light angst, cursing, no use of y/n, no description of reader (see note below), smallish age difference (reader is 26, Joel is 32/almost 33 when they meet in 2000) (small for this fandom, anyway) (the smut comes later, y'all, we're just getting started here) a/n: Well, here we go! This is part 1. This fic is completely finished. It’s a 5+1 and for some of the 5 parts I’ll post them together (on Sundays) and for some I’ll post them separately (on Sundays and Wednesdays) just due to length. Obviously I'm posting this one early (lol). I’ll tell you whatever the schedule is for the different parts. I've paid a lot of attention to the reader's description in this fic. I've avoided skin color, hair type, body shape/size descriptions, and even clothing (except for one or two spots where you are specifically wearing jeans and boots). You are vaguely shorter than Joel. He does not run his fingers through your hair, and you feel the blood rush to your face or your face heat, but you don't turn red or pink. Please tell me if you notice anything I missed - I want this to be as inclusive as possible. word count: 1724 (for this part) series main post & chapter list | series playlist (w/ plot-related mix) ao3 | chapter 2

Chapter 1: Meet Cute

Jackson, Early Winter, 2023

You’ve been heading northwest from somewhere in Kansas, thinking you’ve never bothered going out this way, even Before, so why not? It’s been months since you saw another person. You’re not even sure the last time you spoke out loud. 

You blame the lengthy isolation for how easily they get the jump on you. 

It's just after dawn when you're rudely awakened - at first, you’re not sure why, but a second kick to your hip sends you scrambling to sit up in your sleeping bag, which is tangled around your legs. Looking around as you struggle, you realize you’re surrounded by people on foot and on horseback. Every single one of them is pointing a gun at you. You glance to the side and realize your backpack along with anything possibly useful inside of it has been kicked away from you. The woman who kicked you has a steely look in her eye that reminds you, in your half awake state, of the last boss you had Before. 

“State your business.” As she speaks you notice the two men closest to her start to fan out a bit, but you don’t dare look away from her.

“I’m just passing through, I’ve been looking for a good place to spend the winter.”

Or, that’s what you would have said, if not for the voice from your past shouting your name in shock just as you open your mouth. “No goddamn way, is that really you?”

You think you must be hallucinating, because everyone you knew Before is dead, but then Tommy fucking Miller pushes his way in front of the woman who spoke. For a moment you can’t do more than stare at each other — him with his gun hanging limply in his right hand, you with your legs still tangled in your godforsaken sleeping bag. Then you launch into motion and start to kick it away as you find your voice. It comes out shaky. Or maybe you’re shaking all over.

“Tommy? But — you’re alive? Where the hell have you been? Wait, are Joel and—“

Tommy cuts you off as he pulls you to your feet and into a tight hug. “Holy shit, we thought you were dead. Holy fucking shit.”

“We? Tommy wait, are they—“

Tommy pulls back, keeping hold of your shoulders as he looks you in the eye. He’s grinning, his eyes wandering all over your face. “He’s alive, sunshine. Or he was when he came through here about a month ago. We’re expecting them back in the spring.”

You can feel your heart racing and your whole body feels hot and tingly. You’re overwhelmed. You didn’t think you could still feel hope like this. It’s terrifying, but you have to know. “He’s- Them? They’re both alive? Sarah?”

You know the answer before he even says anything. Tommy’s face falls, his eyes drop from yours, and you feel it like a sucker punch, as bad as it was the first time around. Your knees give out even though this is what you’ve known, or tried to convince yourself must be true, for 20 years. Tommy falls gently with you to the ground.

Your baby girl. “Oh god, Sarah. And Joel, he must have been—“

“Yeah, sunshine. He thought he lost you both. It wasn’t… well. It wasn’t good.” 

You’re starting to feel numb. You have no idea what your face is doing right now, but judging by Tommy’s, it isn’t pretty. 10 minutes ago you were alone in the apocalypse, and suddenly you’re face-to-face with your almost-brother-in-law and you know, without a doubt, that your fiancé hasn’t been dead this whole time. Is this shock? It’s been 20 years since you felt a shock like this. Since you felt anything like this. 

“Tommy, I… I need to sit down.”

“Well, you are sitting down, sunshine. But get up, gather your stuff. You can come to town with us. Stay as long as you’d like.” You nod, unsteady, and Tommy guides you carefully towards what must be his horse. 

The day passes in a daze. You think you might actually be hallucinating, or still back in your sleeping bag, dreaming, because a whole, functional town? A commune, and a house they’re just going to let you have as your own? A real community? With your only remaining family, miraculously alive? It’s impossible. You float through the rest of the day and find yourself sitting on a bed in a house with indoor plumbing that somehow belongs to you, having just eaten real food in the company of the family you thought you lost 20 years ago.

You give up and go to sleep. (What else are you going to do?)

...

As you settle into life in Jackson, the knowledge that you might see Joel — your Joel, any day now — never leaves your thoughts. It’s like a drum beat at the back of your mind that only repeats his name, marking time every hour of every day. You don’t know how you’ll prepare yourself for it. How could you? You haven’t seen him in 20 years. Anything could be different. You can so easily picture him with a daughter, but it’s Sarah in your mind, not Ellie, who Tommy has told you a bit about. Every time you open those old wounds that you’ve done your best to bury it hurts like the first time. Would he still want you? Still know you? Do you still know him? Would Ellie like you? You can’t imagine not knowing Joel, or Joel not knowing you, but it’s been 20 years and people change. You’ve changed, after all. Some days you barely recognize yourself. 

You express these fears to Tommy once, but he only laughs and says his brother may be stupid but he’s not stupid enough not to want you. It’s reassuring and rude, so, exactly like Tommy. At least some things never change.

The day Joel Miller walks back into Jackson you happen to be standing on the road near the gates, talking to Tommy, and you swear he spots you in less than 5 seconds. It’s like you can’t help but look to each other first, even when you don’t know the other is alive, even when you haven’t seen each other in 20 years. You’d know the shape of him anywhere and your eyes have never stopped looking for it, never stopped catching on a set of shoulders, a cocked hip, a tilted head, only to be disappointed when it faded like a mirage. When the person in front of you didn’t fit the hole he left behind. It hurt every time. Maybe it’s been the same for him. 

Joel looks like he’s seen a ghost, and you have no idea what expression is on your face, but the moment you lock eyes all you see is the moment you first met, almost 24 years ago, like a film negative laid on top of what’s really in front of you. He’s older, of course, but so are you, and he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

He steps towards you and whispers your name like a prayer.

Joel fucking Miller. 

Austin, Summer 2000

It was a Saturday morning in late summer, so not yet the hottest part of the day, but not comfortable, either. Your belongings were steadily moving from the truck to your new rental house under your somewhat careful supervision when movement from the house next door caught your eye. You looked up just as one of the guys from the moving company almost dropped your nightstand off the back of the truck, distracting you from the sight of a young girl, maybe about 10, rocketing out of the house next door and down her front steps. She was wearing a bright green soccer uniform.

By the time your nightstand had been righted and you looked back towards your neighbors’ house, she’d made her way to the bushes between your driveways, standing on her tiptoes and taking in all of the commotion. She met your eye and grinned. You grinned back as she called, “Hi, new neighbor!” 

You walked over, stopping on the other side of the bush to introduce yourself. “Hi there, neighbor.” 

It didn’t seem possible, but she grinned even wider. “I’m Sarah, that’s my dad.”

You looked up, realizing there was a man coming down their steps towards the two of you — the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life. He was tall, with broad shoulders and the look of a man who spent a lot of time in the sun, tan lines peeking out of his shirt sleeves. His brown curls were a bit messy and his shoulders and strong arms drew your eye like a magnet. You caught yourself giving him a quick once over and felt your face start to warm, embarrassed, but when you met his eyes again you caught him doing the same to you. You realized you were both caught and you smiled, introducing yourself. 

“Nice to meet you, darlin’. Joel Miller, and I think you’ve met Sarah.” You felt your face turn hot at the endearment but you knew he probably didn’t mean anything by it. Southern hospitality and all. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

You’d opened your mouth to respond when you were rudely interrupted by a crashing noise from the moving truck behind you, and you whirled around to see a box on its side on the ground that definitely should not have been. You glanced back at your neighbors as you excused yourself. “It’s great to meet you! Sorry, I need to see what that was.”

They shooed you along before you could even finish your sentence, reassuring you that they understood. “Let me know if anything broke, darlin,’ I’m pretty handy, could probably fix it. It’d be my pleasure.” He smiled at you a bit, just on one side, edging towards a smirk, and you did your best not to stare at his mouth. “Deal,” you agreed, grinning. Both you and Joel seemed unable to draw your eyes away from each other. You were stuck, pinned in place under his gaze until Sarah tugged on his arm and dragged him towards their truck. “Dad, we’re gonna be late!”

The view from the back was just as nice as the front. 

...

a/n: ch 2 is up!

taglist: @morgaussy

[spitefulverse]

Pollito / Miguel O’hara

Summary: Your learning a bit of Spanish for Miguel, sure you aren’t great, but you find a new word and you just have to tell him.

Warnings: pure fluff, cussing, established relationship. NOT PROOFREAD, just a blurb, like not even a fic. Please bear with me for the first couple of paragraphs I promise I know what pollito means

When you were learning some more Spanish today, you didn’t expect one of the things you would see would be the word for little chickie, pollito, and immediately, you had to tell Miguel how adorable that is.

You were quick to run to his room, past various Spider-Man. The second you reached his door, you banged on it, however didn’t give him a second to answer, just walking in. “Miggy!”

“Holy shit- you cannot just barge in-“ he stood in the centre of the room, almost seeming ready to attack, you simply grabbed his arm, smiling.

“Yeah yeah, you know during my Spanish lesson, well I learnt some new stuff, like important stuff, but guess what!” You bounced excitedly, squeezing his bicep.

“What? Muneca” He sighed, reluctant to even know, his eyes half lidded, looking very unimpressed.

“There’s a word for little chickie!” You grinned, leaning your head on his arm and he sighed, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I know ‘pollito’ but it also just means chick, sometimes we use it to talk about like attractive people or mothers call their children it, and it’s very similar to ‘pollo’ which is just chicken- what- why is this exciting?” He asks, his other hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you huffed. His eyes flickering over your face, smiling at your reactions.

“Because it’s adorable, duh, your raining on my thunder” you poked his arm “I just thought it was cute”

“But it’s the same as chick-“

“So!!”

“Okay!! Okay, mami its adorable, I appreciate you learning Spanish so very much” he kissed your nose “but, we have a lot of words”

“Yeah yeah..mi pollito” you mumbled under your breath. Turning away from him, letting go of his arm. “What did you just call me? That’s not funny, nor is it cute” He crosses his arms.

“You heard me.. mi pollito” you smiled mischievously and he snickered, rolling his eyes playfully. “No way, I am not allowing that, if anything your mi pollito” he argued.

“Oh so you agree, it’s an adorable pet name”

“No- it just can be used as a term of endearment..fine okay baby it’s kind of cute but mostly, it’s just a common word that can mean many things, tone of voice preciosa ” he sighed, taking your hand, pulling you back to him and pressing his lips to yours for a second before looking at you.

“Now stop barging in here and go learn some Spanish, mi pollito” he nudged you towards the door, playfully smacking your ass as you walked by him.

“You wouldn’t do that to your little chickie!”

“It means chick!” He yelled back but you had already slammed the door, skipping off to god knows where.

[flawedamythyst]

Amazing news!! I finally finished the modern no powers au, slow burn, marriage of convenience, Old Guard Nicky/Joe fic that I started in 2020!!!

You may remember hearing about it in one of my post popular Tumblr posts this year, complaining that I had completed the entire Arabic Duolingo course before I finished the fic.

It's 125k words in 31 chapters and I am very excited to finally post it and move on with my life.

However, I would absolutely love to get a sensitivity reader (or readers) for it first. Joe is Muslim and Tunisian and there is a lot of stuff with his family, as well as his feelings about his religion. In addition to Nicky being Italian, most of it is set in Milan, and he's leaving behind the priesthood and so having some Catholicism issues.

I am English, an atheist, and have been to Milan for less than a week 20 years ago. I did my best with Google but I am bound to have missed things, or not known to look them up. Please, if you are Tunisian, Muslim, Italian or Catholic, it would be so incredibly useful if you have time to read it over.

It's PG, no smut or violence, and mostly pining, banter and found family feels. The plot is basically 'hey I just met you, and this is crazy, but why don't we get married so you get Italian citizenship and I get someone to fund me through a nursing degree?'

Warning tags are Homophobia as a main plotpoint, Islamophobia and Racism as minor plot details, family rejection, and the traditional Booker tags of depression, grief, alcoholism and mention of suicidal ideation, although he's only a secondary character so they're not a focus.

I'm also up for a normal Beta if anyone is up for that, atm I am the only person who has had eyes on it.

And so you can see the kind of thing you'd be getting into, given the length of it, this is the first scene:

The first thing to catch Joe’s attention was the man’s <i>shoulders</i>.

Perfectly broad and tanned even for a white guy, glowing under the warm Maltese sun as they rose up from the ocean, water spilling down them. Joe was so taken with them that it was a moment before he realised that more beauty was being revealed as the guy straightened up and started to walk out of the sea. A set of biceps that also took Joe a moment to fully take in, a chest just as broad as the shoulders, narrowing to a trim waist and a set of hips that he could all too easily imagine curling his hands around. The weight of the water had dragged the guy’s bright red swimming shorts low enough to reveal the cut of his hipbones, glistening with water.

Joe was so taken with them that it took him a moment to realise that the guy had left the water behind and was now coming up the beach, which meant Joe could see just how short his shorts were. His thighs were long and strong, and just as tanned as his shoulders. Holy shit, this had to be some kind of vision of paradise, no man could be this hot in real life, surely?

The man stopped at a beach umbrella a few metres from the sun lounger Joe was sprawled on, and then bent over to grab his towel.

Joe made an actual noise at that, an involuntary guttural exclamation in his throat as he tipped his sunglasses down to make sure he got the best view.

“Jesus, Joe,” said Andy from beside him. “Have some dignity.”

“I’m going to marry that man,” said Joe in a dazed voice, not taking his eyes away for a second. 

The man stood back up, rubbing himself down with his towel, and Joe took the time to actually look at his face. Large eyes and prominent cheekbones and, okay, a lot of nose, but Joe could easily imagine waking up to that face on the pillow beside him. His hair was dark with water, slicked back from his face, and Joe wondered what colour it would dry to, if the strands around his face would fall over his forehead where Joe could push them away for him, fingers gliding over his head as he leaned in to kiss him.

“Wow,” said Nile, half-sitting up to take a look. “I know you said you were going to cut loose and get flirty, but I didn’t realise you’d just straight up turn into a total horndog.” She tipped her head to one side as she took in the vision of perfection. “I guess he’s kinda cute. Nice shoulders.”

“I would dedicate whole years of my life to worshipping those shoulders,” said Joe, barely even letting himself blink as the guy ran the towel roughly over his hair, leaving it damply stuck up.

“Okay, dial it back,” said Andy. “Or at least pretend to. This isn’t Tunisia, but staring at strangers on the beach like you’re picturing them in your favourite porn film is kinda skeevy.”

Joe made himself blink and tipped his sunglasses back on, settling back against the lounger. The guy was packing his stuff up anyway, pulling on a shirt that he didn’t bother buttoning and shoving his feet in a pair of flip flops. Joe was about to watch him walk away, and probably never see him again, but at least he’d be able to live the rest of his life knowing that such perfection existed in the world. Truly, Allah was great.

“Look how tiny those shorts are,” he said. “He has to be gay, right?”

Quỳnh, who had been half-asleep but never missed a chance to judge someone’s outfit, lifted herself on her elbows and inspected him for a moment. “Either gay or Italian,” she announced.

The guy threw his towel over his shoulder and strode off up the beach. Joe took his last look at that perfect arse, sitting up to watch it leave, then collapsed back down onto his sunlounger.

“I have been ruined for all other men,” he announced.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

I mentioned in the last part (the part before that?) how I was leaving on the 15th… I’m not. I’m leaving on the 13th. This fic will be on hiatus until at LEAST the 8th of January, but I WILL come back! This is my baby and I’m not going to abandon it.

Part 1 | . . . | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41

Okay,” Robin says, and somehow just that is enough to soothe Steve. “We know how to fix this, Steve, but you need to focus. Can you focus?”

He takes a breath, feels it shake on the way out. “Yeah. I can focus.” He squeezes his free hand, clenches then releases, clenches then releases, startling when he feels something against his hand.

Eddie offers him a half-smile and a shrug, and Steve manages the expression back, taking his proffered hand and squeezing gently. Thank you, he thinks, and somehow he knows Eddie understands.

He and Robin talk for a few minutes, about how to do this, and he ends the call feeling slightly more confident than before.

“Okay,” he says, as much for Eddie’s benefit as his own. “We need her favorite song.”

Eddie bites his lip. “I’m guessing you don’t know it?”

“No, but I know someone who should. Do you happen to know the Hayes’ number?”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, their middle kid, Ronnie? She’s our drummer.” He recites the number, and Steve punches it in, waiting eagerly.

“Hayes residence.”

Steve doesn’t really recognize the voice, so he tentatively asks, “Ronnie?”

She hums. “To some people, sure. Not to you. It’s Veronica.”

Steve winces. “Sorry. Veronica.”

Eddie narrows his eyes, then grabs the phone before Steve can say anything else. “Ronnie, be nice,” he whines, then laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Hey, there is actually a reason we called, though. D’you think Cassie knows Alli’s favorite song?” He covers the receiver and whispers to Steve, “‘Should I Stay or Should I Go,’ The Clash.” Back to the phone he says, “Thanks, Ron. I gotta go but I’ll talk t’you later, ‘kay? Yeah, you too. Bye.”

Steve turns to Allison, who’s beginning to float. “Shit,” he whispers. “C’mon, you gotta- d’you know the song?” He asks, clambering onto the counter to get closer to her.

“I know a little bit of it,” Eddie admits.

Steve nods. “Just… please. Whatever you know, sing.”

Eddie nods, and then Steve starts. He sings the first verse, then Eddie joins in, and Steve starts whispering to her. “C’mon, Al. You gotta fight, please. I just got you back, c’mon, I can’t lose you again. Not this soon. I won’t let him have you, Al, but you’ve gotta fight too.”

Just after they start the second verse, Allison drops to the ground. Steve yelps and scrambles down. “Al!”

“Bubba,” she murmurs, and he collapses into her.

“Thank God,” he murmurs. “Holy shit, Al, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” she agrees, clutching onto him just as tightly. “‘M here, bubba. You got me.”

He finally lifts his head and sees Robin, El, and Wayne standing in the entryway of his kitchen.

Evidently, Eddie sees them at the same time, because he yelps, “Wayne!” As he scrambles across the kitchen to hug his uncle.

“Hey,” Steve manages from his position on the floor, halfway on top of Allison.

Robin smiles, steps forward, and offers him a hand, which he takes with a grateful smile. He helps Alli stand after.

“So best I figure,” Wayne says, “You’re in a war and the enemy just made his next move, so your timeline’s moved up now.”

Steve sets his jaw and nods. “Just about.”

Wayne nods. “Your friend here said somethin’ ‘bout shootin’?”

Steve studies him for a moment, then nods. “You a good shot?”

“I was in a war, son, I’m as good as anyone else here.”

Steve nods and offers him a hand to shake. Wayne does, then asks, “So why don’t you tell me why my nephew is suddenly singing your praises?”

Eddie flushes and buries his face in his hands. “Wayne!”

Steve chuckles. “That’s actually a pretty long conversation, sir. How about some coffee?”

“Coffee would be great,” he nods. “And it’s Wayne, none’a that sir crap.”

Allison grabs his wrist before he can move. “Steve,” she murmurs. “That’s what you’re fighting? And have been?”

Steve nods, and she pulls him into a hug, tears pricking at both their eyes. “I’m gonna tear him apart,” she grits out, squeezing Steve until his back cracks. He squeezes her back just as hard.

“Okay,” he whispers, pulling back. “Go get a Walkman. Play your song on repeat. We don’t know why, but it helps.”

Alli chuckles. “Of course it does, it’s music.” She ruffles his hair and steps back, and suddenly Steve misses her like a limb.

“Robs-”

“I’ll go with you,” Robin volunteers, linking her arm with Alli’s and giving Steve a significant look. “C’mon.”

“That works,” Alli says, “I’ve been wanting to get to know you.” They both grin, and suddenly Steve is terrified to see them together.

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[i-am-ir0n-maiden]

It's Not What It Looks Like

for @msdjsg7

Welcome to Chapter 2 of my first fic, first Loki fic, and first char x reader fic, Taking Chances! You can find Chapter One here.

Warnings/tags: a little bit of strong language (shut it, Steve), good!Loki, fluff, soft!Loki, Avenger!Loki, you and Loki are friends (maybe eventually more, oops that could be a spoiler), Loki's in a stabby mood for about half a scene

No age limits

Fandom: MCU movie Loki

You blinked awake slowly after the best sleep you'd had in weeks to find yourself in a bed not your own. Too much green.

Then you noticed that you were in someone's arms.

Loki's?!

You shifted a bit, embarrassed, trying to remember how you got here. Oh, right... in your exhaustion-hazed brain last night, you thought getting your Jotunn best friend to cuddle you to cool you down in place of the air conditioning was a good idea. Yeah. That's right.

Loki stirred a bit and woke up at your movements, that malicious smirk creeping onto his face as he looked down at you. He didn't need to say anything - his face said more than words could. He thought this was funny.

You glared at him. "Shut up," you growled as you shifted away, trying to put some distance between you two. Anything to make this less awkward, oh Norns why did I ever think this was a good idea, I need to get away from him I don't like the butterfly feeling I'm getting right now because it's starting to transition to turning me on...

He actually smiled at you. "I haven't said a word, darling." He paused for effect. "You, on the other hand, were... rather demanding last night." The smile became his trademark smirk once more. "It's not often a woman forces herself into my bed and orders me to hold her."

Your glare intensified as you pulled away, out of his grasp, and slipped out of the bed entirely.

You didn't expect long, cool fingers to wrap around your wrist and keep you from taking another step.

Loki had moved faster than you'd ever seen any being move before to grab your wrist and prevent you from leaving.

You froze for a second, barely able to believe your ears at what he said next. "Did I tell you that you had to leave?"

You finally snapped out of your holy-shit-is-this-really-happening trance, not making any more moves to leave, as you said "I should... It's dawn."

"I see that. What I do not see is how the sunrise has any bearing on your staying with me or leaving. It's quite rare that anyone chooses to be near me." He attempted to pull you back.

You sighed, but let him pull you off-balance so you landed back beside him. "If the others see me sneaking out of your room, they might, well... get ideas." You said as you settled back in beside him.

He chuckled softly at that. "Mm. Perhaps we shouldn't allow that."

"Then why do you want me to stay?"

"Simply because I desire your company, is that a problem for you?"

It was once again your turn to be shocked. "N-no. It's not. But you only get five more minutes."

He pulled you close enough to put his arms back around you. "I shall not keep you a second longer than you wish."

You two laid there a few more moments, simply existing together and listening to the sound of one another's breathing. When the five minutes were up, you reluctantly slipped out of Loki's grasp, eliciting a small, sad whine from him. "Already?"

"Yeah, Lokes. I really need to leave now." You said softly as you headed for the door. "See you at breakfast?"

"Won't miss it, since you asked me." His reply was barely audible through the blankets he'd burrowed back into.

What the fuck was that all about? You thought as you headed back to your own room for a shower.

________________________________

When you walked into the kitchen after sneaking back to your room to get ready, Natasha grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side without even giving you a chance to say a word. "So. You and the iceman, huh?" She whispered, looking at you with a conniving smirk.

"Wh- what are you talking about?" You said, trying to feign innocence despite the blush creeping onto your face.

"You went past my room last night and this morning."

"So?"

"Loki's is the last. Mine's next to his."

"It- it's not what it looks like, Nat, I swear..." You managed to say, looking away from her piercing gaze.

"Sure. We've all seen the looks you two give each other, haven't we, Clint?" She called over her shoulder to her partner in crime.

Clint, in the middle of shoving waffles into his mouth, glanced up and said something unintelligible due to his mouth being full.

"See? He agrees." Natasha locked that intense stare she uses during interrogations onto you, daring you to lie again.

"Oh my Gooood..." you moaned in exasperation, rolling your eyes while you frantically formulated a lie.

"Yes?" The smooth voice beside you shocked you, and you glanced over to see Loki smirking at you. "You called?"

"You're not helping, Loki!" You shot him a glare. "Tell Nat why I was in your room last night." You attempted to communicate with your eyes that he needed to lie to her to un-incriminate you both. Tell her anything but the fact that I demanded you cuddle me.

His eyes lit up for a split second - you could practically see what he was thinking. 'This is going to be fun.'

"Well, Miss Romanoff, she walked into my room, forced herself into my bed and demanded that I hold her because it was "too hot everywhere but with me."" He put little air quotes around the last six words - he must have picked that up from Thor.

"God damn it, Loki, why -" your protest was cut off by Natasha's "HA! I KNEW IT!" She triumphantly high-fived Clint and you noticed her surrepititiously being handed money by Sam, Steve, and even Bruce. Thor looked pleased.

She turned back to you with a satisfied look on her face. "JARVIS, you can fix our changes now."

"With pleasure, Miss Romanoff." the AI replied, sounding almost... teasing?

"You see, we've all seen the looks you and Reindeer Games here give each other. So lady triple imposter and her birdbrain decided to do something about it. We actually were all in on it." Tony added from the coffee machine.

"I had JARVIS crank up the temp in your room, the hall, and a little bit in Loki's." Clint said around his fork.

"I obeyed, but made certain that your thermostats showed no change." JARVIS added from the ceiling.

"I went along with their grand scheme and made it believable, didn't think it'd work though." Tony chipped in again from behind his coffee mug.

"I orchestrated all this because you two clearly are all heart eyes for each other." Natasha said, looking satisfied.

"And we bet them it wouldn't work." Bruce, Sam and Steve added sadly.

Thor now looked confused. "I.. was told to ignore everyone else and keep quiet."

You and Loki exchanged identical infuriated glances and took a simultaneous step forward, reaching for your favorite weapons - Loki conjuring a dagger out of thin air, you drawing the one he gave you from its sheath on your hip. "Lot of planning just for it to backfire on them, huh?" you said as you and Loki advanced on the others. "Mm." Loki agreed.

"See? You even reacted the same!" an unfazed Natasha managed to say through her laughter.

Sam's eyes got big and he stood up, tugging Steve and Bruce, who was getting nervous and looking a little green veined, with him. "Thor, should we run?" he asked, already heading for the door.

"I advise it. My brother rather enjoys stabbing people who get on his bad side." Thor replied.

"Relax, Dr. Green Bean. Don't go smashing the place." you said as you passed Bruce being tugged along by Sam. "We won't touch you three."

Loki paused and touched your wrist with his free hand. You glanced at him.

"Perhaps we should give them what they wish?" he whispered just loud enough for the others to hear.

"How... do you propose to do that?" you replied, confused.

His free arm slipped around your waist. "Is this okay?" He looked pleased with himself.

Why not, you thought, and said as much as you leaned into him.

"We've changed our minds." Loki said as he lowered the dagger in his hand and you sheathed yours. "However, conspire against me again and you will see why I am called the god of mischief." He, without warning, threw his dagger, embedding it in the wall a few inches from Nat's head.

"HEY! You WILL be fixing that, and by hand, not with magic!" Tony complained at the hole in the wall that appeared when Loki made the dagger disappear, and reappear back in its place in his room.

Loki pulled you a bit closer and led you along with him as he stepped around Tony and towards the cabinets to find something to eat. As you moved beside him, one thought ran through your mind.

What the fuck is happening between us.

[takaraphoenix]

Guess who's writing her second Neckz 'n Throats fic? This time, newbie Stiles who fills in for his roommate Kira when she has to cancel a shoot last minute.

For the full fic, watch out for The Fox and the Wolf coming to an AO3 near you. But for now, a tiny sneak peek ;)

--

“I am so sorry I’m late, but I also only learned that I should be here like forty-five minutes ago so honestly, fifteen minutes late is half a miralce. I may have broken several traffic laws.”

Peter was not the only one to stare at the rambling boy. He was… not what Peter had expected from the ‘barista roommate’ replacement that Kira had spoken of. He was pretty to look at, that much was a relief. The pale skin would do for marvelous markings. The moles dotting the side of his face were enchanting marks of their own. His hair was already messy like someone (probably the boy himself) had run his fingers through it repeatedly. Good for tugging, it would look splendid with clawed fingers curled in it. He was lanky, long limbs and slender build. A twink, to put it bluntly. Which was its own appeal, but it made Peter want to pair him off with someone else instead of Malia, who was supposed to shoot this at her girlfriend and mate-to-be’s side. Boyd might pair well with him. Mh, Jackson’s arrogance would also pair well, put the boy on his knees for the wolf.

Peter was startled when he felt his inner wolf growl and protest the notion, as soon as a delicious and tantalizing scent of sweet honey, dangerous lightning and ink-stained books hit his nose, making want flare up in him. The boy should be on his knees for Peter, bare that pretty, pale stretch of throat for the Alpha, submit to him readily and willingly, beg for—

“You must be Stiles,” Chris spoke with a friendly smile, motioning for the boy to join them. “I’d like to say we heard a lot of you, but all of this is very last minute…”

“Well, I heard a lot about you, so that makes up for it on my end,” Stiles grinned broadly and shook Chris’ hand. “Christopher Argent, though your reputation preceded you even beyond what Kira gushes about. You are brilliant, I mean, holy shit, what you do with a camera is straight-up magic.”

Peter’s wolf rumbled pleased and settled down some, his earlier agitation also dispersing at the sound of praise being heaped upon his mate. Yes, good. His Christopher deserved all the good words there were, because he indeed was brilliant and too few people recognized that. There were so many who thought photography was just about ‘clicking a button’ and Peter had threatened bodily harm on that matter on multiple occasions already (much to Chris’ embarrassment).

[feralkat]

🫄2️⃣🚎🛑👖💦

The first build-a-birth prompt that came in and oh my God was it fun to write holy shit lol.

It got so long that I decided to split it into two parts, though 😅 so here's part one lmao. Also there will be twins - Atlas just doesn't know they've got twins in there so part two is gonna be pretty wild for them lol.

Word Count: 2.8k

Characters Used: Atlas (nonbinary afab OC) & Fen (cis-male OC)

WARNINGS: nonbinary character giving birth, birth denial, clothing birth, public birth, orgasm during labor. Also - I do use AFAB terms to describe the characters' genitalia so please be aware of that.

If it weren't already obvious, this is a birth/labor fetish fic so if you are a minor or not into that then DO NOT INTERACT. You have been warned.

Everyone had joked about how Atlas would end up going into labor during their baby-moon despite being only 36 weeks along. By the end of it they were beginning their 37th week, but even so their due date wasn't for three more weeks so it was easy to laugh those concerns off.

Except Atlas had been feeling increasingly more intense contractions since they left their hotel that morning that they were trying to brush off as Braxton hicks contractions.

At least until a small gush of fluid left a size-able damp spot on Atlas' leggings and made them realize they couldn't stay in denial for much longer about what was happening.

They were in labor.

Though, technically, labor didn't start during the baby-moon itself.

No, it started as they were leaving.

Now they were several hours away from the next stop and even further away from home where Atlas had everything set up to have a nice, relaxing, empowering birth with just themselves and their husband.

"Shit," Atlas grumbled, shifting uncomfortably in the seat and pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the window as he felt a contraction start.

"Babe? You alright?"

Atlas glanced over at their husband, hazel eyes peaking out from behind blue and green dyed bangs. "My water broke," they mumbled in an exhale, taking in another deep breath and squeezing their eyes shut as they felt the pressure deep inside their pelvis drop even lower.

"Oh... Oh!" Fen exclaimed, having taken a moment to fully comprehend what Atlas said. "Guess those weren't just Braxton hicks contractions, huh?" Fen chuckled nervously, reaching over to take Atlas' hand.

"Yeah, guess not," Atlas sighed as the contraction passed.

"Do you think we'll make it home?" Fen asked, "If not I can look at hotels around the next stop. It won't be home but at least it won't be on a bus."

"Um," Atlas paused, thinking back to when the contractions first started around 10AM. It was nearly 6PM now, but for the majority of the time the contractions weren't too bad. The last half hour or so, Atlas had noticed growing pressure against his hips and lower back but assumed it was from the not-very-comfy bus seats. But then their water broke and that pressure had gotten worse without the cushion. "I don't know," they answered after a few seconds.

"Okay, how about... I'll book us a hotel near the next stop just in case and we'll reassess once we get there," Fen offered.

Atlas nodded their approval of the plan, grateful for Fen's ability to think logically even in panic-inducing moments.

Over the next two hours, Fen gently coached Atlas through contraction after contraction. The deep rumble of his voice, strong hand holding Atlas', and his general presence helped immensely to keep Atlas calm and focused despite everything else.

At some point Fen pushed the armrest between them out of the way so Atlas could lean on him, making for a much comfier position than sitting upright like they had been.

"There's... a lot of pressure," Atlas said between softly panted breaths. "I don't think it'll be much longer," they added.

"Okay, we should be at the stop soon," Fen reassured, draping an arm over Atlas' shoulders to gently rub circles against Atlas' swollen stomach. "Then we can go straight to the hotel and have this baby like we planned," Fen said, voice dipping into a low purr against Atlas' ear.

It made a shiver go down Atlas' spine, clit throbbing and making them aware of exactly how aroused they already were just from Fen talking to them and giving them instructions - even if those instructions were mainly how and when to breathe.

God, Atlas wished they were home.

A contraction brought Atlas out of their thoughts, making them tense until Fen reminded them to relax and breathe through it.

That was getting really hard, but Atlas made an effort. They took in a deep breath, trying to relax their body as much as they could as they let that breath out slowly.

"Again, babe, do it again," Fen urged, reaching down to massage the outside of Atlas' thigh where the muscles were still all tense.

"Ngh," Atlas grunted as they sucked in another breath, screwing their eyes shut as the contraction peaked and the pressure between their hips increased tenfold. Hardly even realizing it, they found themselves bearing down against it for the remainder of the contraction.

Once it was done, Atlas shifted to reposition so they were leaning back against Fen, one foot up on the seat and the other on the floor. The position let them spread their thighs a bit more and they moaned softly when they felt that pressure drop deep into their pelvis. "H-Hey, Fen," they mumbled, unable to help but rock their hips a little, "I think I have to push."

Fen didn't reply right away, lifting his head to glance around the bus first. There weren't many people, thankfully, and it seemed like they'd be getting to the bus stop soon but neither of them were sure if it'd be soon enough. "Okay. We're almost to the stop and the hotel is just around the corner from there. Try to breathe through it until we get there," Fen instructed, calm aside from a slight tremble to his otherwise even voice.

"I'll try, but..." Atlas trailed off, feeling their midsection tighten in another strong contraction.

"You got this, love. I know it's hard, I know you want to push but let's breathe through it," Fen cooed, his voice low and lips brushing against Atlas' ear as he spoke. "Feel the pressure, notice it and accept it as you breathe," he instructed, taking slow even breaths for Atlas to follow.

"Yeah, 'm feeling th-the pressure," Atlas groaned in one quick exhale, screwing their eyes shut and trying their best to match Fen's breathing. What really got them through the intense heavy pressure urging them to push, though, was focusing on Fen's fingers rubbing their thigh.

"You're doing so good sweet-tart," Fen rumbled, "Focus on my voice and we'll get through this."

Atlas nodded, unable to answer as they tried not to make a lot of noise. They could feel that heaviness shift and move down, knowing the baby's head was fully engaged and working its way through their cervix by now.

"You've got this, babe, doing so good for me," Fen purred as the contraction peaked.

There was only so much Atlas could do, though, when the contractions were doing enough to work the baby down through their cervix even without them pushing.

Just as the contraction was ending, there was a loud 'boom' and the bus jolted, tires screeching as it came to a very sudden stop.

Within half a second of the sound, Fen had both arms wrapped tight around Atlas and didn't loosen his grip until the bus was completely stopped.

"Fuck, Atlas are you okay?" Fen asked, calm facade breaking for a moment as panic crept into his voice.

"Yeah, I think so," Atlas answered, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm their racing heart. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Fen nodded, pressing a kiss against the top of Atlas' head.

"Sorry, folks!" the bus driver exclaimed, "Sounds like a tire gave up on us. The station has already been notified, though and someone should be here within the hour to fix us up."

Fen and Atlas sat in silence for a few seconds as that information sunk in. There was no way Atlas was going to make it through an extra hour - they were cutting it extremely close anyway.

"Fen," Atlas mumbled, tilting their head to look at their husband, "I don't know if... if we'll make it."

A small frown tugged at Fen's lips before he slowly answered, "Should we call an ambulance?"

"No," Atlas snapped, panic rising at just the mention of going to a hospital - especially one that was away from their home town that Atlas had never been to.

They've had enough medical trauma and shitty doctors to give them a lifetime of distrust for hospitals.

"Okay - That's okay," Fen reassured, finding one of Atlas' hands to hold. "Let's still try to breathe through it and we'll see how far we get."

"'Kay," Atlas grunted, hand tightening around Fen's as pain and pressure overwhelmed them.

The next couple of contractions went similarly, Atlas following Fen's instructions while trying to keep themselves quiet even as the pressure kept moving lower. It was getting difficult, though, especially when the intensity of the pressure didn't lessen at all after the most recent contraction ended.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Nghhh," Atlas whined, squirming against Fen as they tried to find some sort of position that wouldn't be as terrible. "So much pressure," they complained, arching their back a little before collapsing against Fen with a defeated whine.

"I could give you a distraction, if you want," Fen offered, one of his hands trailing down over Atlas' swollen stomach to rub against the inside of their thigh before gently trailing over the seam of their leggings.

"Ah!" Atlas gasped at the unexpected sensation, their clit already swollen and sensitive from how Fen had been talking before. "Please," they said in a rush of air, thighs twitching open more.

Taking a glance around, Fen slipped his hand into Atlas' leggings once he was sure no one would see. "There you go, sweets, just focus on my hand and my voice," Fen encouraged, quickly finding Atlas' swollen clit and slowly rubbing circles over it.

Dropping his head back against Fen's shoulder, Atlas bit back a moan. It did help, though, able to focus on a different sensation rather than pain and pressure. "Sh-shit," Atlas groaned as another contraction hit and Fen sped up his fingers as it peaked. The pleasure took the edge off of the pain but stood no chance against easing the pressure and urges to push that Atlas felt. "Ngh! Ah, f-fuck," Atlas grunted as the contraction peaked.

Fen was telling them to pant through it, suck in air and then blow it out, do whatever they could just so they weren't holding their breath. That was hard, though, and Atlas found themselves giving little pushes with every forced exhale.

They didn't have a choice in the matter and fuck did it feel good to give in a little bit.

It was only after the contraction ended that Atlas realized on top of the pressure there was a new sensation just below their cervix - like they were being stretched and filled to their breaking point.

Everything was so intense, though, Atlas couldn't even say anything about it. They were reduced to a squirming, whimpering mess as the pleasure warred with the discomfort and that urge to push completely overtook them when their abdomen tightened again.

And Atlas was right - it felt so good to finally do what their body wanted them to.

Between that and Fen's fingers moving expertly over their clit, Atlas found themselves on the verge of an orgasm as they gasped in a breath and pushed.

That's what did it, Atlas unable to help but cry out and buck their hips as the orgasm washed over them even as their body kept bearing down.

By the time Atlas was coming down from that absolutely incredible orgasm, they could feel that that heaviness had completely filled their cunt and they were sure if they pushed just a little more that their lips would start to bulge and part.

"Oh my God, are you having a baby?!"

The shrill voice of a concerned stranger made Atlas' face go bright red, realizing she probably had heard them cumming just now.

Fen didn't remove his hands from Atlas' leggings which made Atlas' face burn even brighter as Fen tried to reassure the worried passenger.

Atlas was past the point of being able to speak coherently, though, especially as another contraction started not even seconds later.

"Oh - Ah - Nghh - No," Atlas whined as quietly as they could, their body now pushing without their consent. "Oh God, oh God. Fen!" Atlas gasped, feeling their hole start to stretch as the baby's head started to inch out.

But Fen was still trying to convince the lady - and now several other worried passengers - not to call 911 because they had it handled and that Atlas didn't want to go to the hospital.

Groaning through gritted teeth, Atlas felt the baby's head slide back in as the contraction ended. But they didn't get that relief for long, their contractions almost on top of each other by now.

Atlas hardly even noticed the small crowd that had gathered around their seat, all of their focus on trying (and partially failing) not to push again.

It didn't make much of a difference, though.

The baby's head was slowly making its way through. Every contraction brought it out further and further even though it always slipped back in as soon as the contractions were over.

At least until it didn't.

Unable to speak, Atlas grabbed Fen's wrist and moved his hand down just enough that he'd be able to feel the way Atlas' lips were bulging and the baby's head peaking out through them.

Atlas felt Fen's whole body tense for a moment, words faltering as he tried to soothe everyone who was trying to call an ambulance.

Then, he regained composure and with two fingers spread Atlas' lips just a little further so he could press his hand against the baby's head. With that position, Fen incidentally had the ball of his hand pressed firmly against Atlas' sensitive clit which sent entirely conflicting sensations through their body again.

As the next contraction came, Atlas found themselves unintentionally grinding against Fen's hand as they moved their hips in little circles like they had been this whole time.

And it felt so fucking good but also way too intense at the same time and Atlas couldn't hold back their moans, grunts, and whines anymore.

When that contraction peaked, Atlas gave a series of little pushes each accompanied with a small grunt.

It wasn't doing anything, though, and Atlas soon realized that Fen was keeping the baby from progressing more with firm but gentle pressure against its head.

"Hey, they're transferring us to a different bus, sweet-tart, it just got here," Fen's voice right in Atlas' ear was the only thing Atlas could hear outside of their own harsh breathing and pounding heartbeat. "The aisle is too narrow for me to pick you up but as soon as we're off the bus I'll be able to carry you, okay?"

Fuck.

There wasn't any other choice, though, so after Fen removed his hand from Atlas' leggings, Atlas slowly adjusted so they could stand.

Fen supported them the whole time but with every step Atlas could feel their labia bulging and spreading more and more. Not to mention the way their hole was starting to burn with the stretch as the baby began to crown.

The step down from the bus was the worst and the baby was nearly at a full crown by the time Fen was picking them up to carry them over to the other bus.

Thank fuck the other bus was a little bigger so Atlas didn't have to walk to a seat. Especially since a contraction started just as Fen was stepping up into the bus.

All Atlas could do was bury their face against Fen's shoulders and sob as that burning sensation just continued to get worse, their body pushing even though they were actively trying not to.

"Fen!" Atlas squealed as the rest of the baby's head popped out all at once, making their leggings bulge obscenely. "I-It's - Oh God - th-the head is - it's out," they stammered, clinging to Fen even as their husband gently laid them on the row of seats in the back of the bus.

"Okay, okay - Babe, just, I need you to let go of me so I can - uh - look and help," Fen said in a mumbled rush, standing once Atlas let go before kneeling between Atlas' feet. "We need to get these pants off, okay?" he asked, already reaching for the waistband of the leggings.

"Wait - waitwaitwait," Atlas gasped, keening as their abdomen cramped and tightened again. They could feel the baby turning and a shoulder trying to come out but their leggings didn't let that happen.

At least until Fen managed to pull the legging down - ignoring Atlas' pleas because they needed to come off - and several things happened all at once.

The first shoulder slid out, closely followed by the second one and, before Fen even had Atlas' leggings to their knees, the baby was born with a large gush of fluid.

[kinardsevan]

several sentence sunday

I was tagged by @perfectlysunny02. Could drop y'all some EB, but I'm trying to actually get that chapter finished tonight, so instead I'll give you the fic I came home and just had to start, tentatively titled words never said in a story that didn't end, roughly based around an assumed 811.

-

“You know we’ve been at this for weeks,” Chandler comments as he leans back on his bed. “And I still don’t even know where you live, Evan.” 

“Buck,” he counters, tugging his shirt over his head. “Everyone calls me Buck.” He can’t stand the sound of his name out of anyone else’s mouth now. “A-and that’s not important, is it? I mean, like you said, it’s only been weeks.” 

Chandler leans forward on the bed, narrowing his gaze at Buck. “Sure. Except you’ve been here eight times now. Which almost makes it feel like you don’t want me to know where you live.” The man stares at him as he grabs his jeans from he floor and starts pulling them on. “Unless it’s not about the place, but who you’ve brought there.” 

Buck still doesn’t speak, keeping his focus on his jeans as he pulls them up his legs. 

“Well God-damn, Evan,” Chandler comments, fully sitting up now. “Kinda hard to put up a fight against a ghost that I didn’t even know exists.” 

“Buck,” he states again, bordering on a growl. “A-and he’s not a ghost, he’s-..” 

“He clearly hurt you,” Chandler replies, reeling slightly, but keeping his voice calm. “But… I mean, didn’t you say when we met that he broke up with you?” 

Buck huffs as he buttons and zips his jeans, tugs the hem of his shirt down. “I didn’t- a- w-what does that have to do with this? It has nothing to do with me protecting my privacy-..” 

“Well it certainly feels like it does,” Chandler counters, although he’s calmer than Buck is. “I mean why hang on to something that’s clearly over if you’re actually trying to move on? He obviously doesn’t give a fuck.” 

“No one ever said- and where the hell do you- I mean what the fuck-..” He keeps stammering through half-finished statements, unsure of which one to say first because they’re all driving toward the same point that whatever he’s had going on with Chandler is clearly over. 

“It’s not about what you did or didn’t say,” Chandler responds. “Man walks out on you after, you said, what? Six months?” 

“H-he has trauma!” Buck argues. “A-and-..” 

“Holy shit,” Chandler mutters, his eyes growing wide. “Okay. Maybe you need a reeducation in learning how to move on .” 

“I don’t need move on, I’m in love with him!” He yells the statement back at Chandler before he fully even processes the words coming out of his mouth, but for the next ten seconds, he’s stuck in that position, introspecting at the statement and realizing he meant it. His shoulders sink as the anger ebbs out of him and he looks back over at Chandler sorrowfully. “I’m in love with him,” he whispers. 

Chandler takes a deep breath and sighs, shrugging as he leans back on his hands, tilting his head at Buck. 

“Then maybe you should do something about that,” he comments. “Something that doesn’t involve anyone else.” 

Buck glances over at him, a little shocked that the guy he’s been sleeping with for the past few weeks would tell him to go after Tommy, especially when all of his loved ones have been telling him for months to just move on. 

“All I’m saying is if he doesn’t know, maybe you should tell him,” Chandler says quietly. “Or don’t listen to me. Keep listening to what you said your family told you. It’s gotten you this far.”