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aritany · 26 days

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On Identity: The Truth

Content warnings: homophobia, transphobia, references to self harm and suicide.

I’ve been keeping secrets my whole life.

I’m 10 and I’m listening to my dad at the dinner table, who I know to be the most trustworthy person in the world. He talks about the legalization of marriage between two people of the same sex and asks us to consider the implications. Where do we draw the line in the sand? Legalizing gay marriage paves the way for legalizing pedophilia, after all. If a union between two men or two women isn’t disrespecting the sanctity of marriage, what’s next? Marriage between men and animals?

I’m 11 the first time I hear it: “It doesn’t matter how low I set the bar for you, you still can’t reach it.”

I’m confused and afraid—I’m trying so hard—but I hear it then, and again, and again, spoken low in disappointment, shouted with a vein popping in her forehead, cold like a fact, and it sinks in, bone deep.

I’m 12 with my first crush on a girl. I’m not confused, I know that’s what it is—I want to kiss my friend, and I already know not to talk about it. Never to talk about it. It isn’t safe.

I’m 13 and doubting. I throw myself into fitting in. I pick the right boys to like and I go overboard, and I do like them, I do, I do, I want them to like me, I want to be their friend. I want to be their equal, but that’s not quite how the story goes, so I settle for trying to hold hands with somebody I desperately crave respect from, but that’s wrong too, I learn.

I’m 14 and convicted. How could this be wrong? I brush hands with a girl in choir and we meet eyes and I know. I watch a gay kiss on TV and I sob into my hands and I tell no one, no one, no one.

I’m 15 and I come out to my mom, haltingly, with the terminology that I have, because the thought of hiding forever—keeping quiet through one more dinner—kills me.

She tells me no. She tells me I’m wrong.

I look in her eyes and I understand: it’s not an option, and it never will be.

I’m 15 and I do my best to stop there.

It doesn’t work.

I’m 16 when I first hear my mom say that you can love someone and not approve of their lifestyle. I wonder what kind of love that is. I wonder how that kind of diluted, half-hearted, patronizing love can be enough for anyone. I wonder if she’s thought about how that feels, to be told that who you are—not by choice—is fundamentally wrong.

I’m 16 and a boyfriend is a shield. The right choice, so I make it, and it’s even almost fun. I love being his friend. I’m afraid of anything more.

I’m 17 and my youngest sibling whispers, “So am I.”

My heart breaks for the pain they’ll experience, as they too are taught, painstakingly, how to hate themself. Which parts of themself have to be kept hidden, which parts are shameful. They sit at that dinner table and hear the rhetoric that pushed me to the brink and over it, and I hope they’re stronger than I am.

They aren’t.

I’m 18 and my mom works at a college for the performing arts. I sit and curdle quietly while she talks about her genderqueer students. Misgenders them behind their backs. Deadnames used flippantly. She knows better, after all. She can be the expert on somebody else’s identity. They’re mentally ill, all of them. None of them are happy. They’re searching for something only God can provide.

I’m 19 and I come out as bisexual to the man I’m certain I’m going to marry, tearing the secret out like a bandage fused to skin. He tells me of course it’s fine, that he supports who I am. Of course people like me should have rights, of course. I laugh, relieved. Later, I find out this moment was almost a dealbreaker for him, and I wonder how much was ever real.

I’m 20 and I’m out. I’m 20 and I’m free. I’m 20 and I believe, because I’ve been told, that I am loved for who I am. All of who I am. I still flinch when I hear a car door slam.

I’m 21 and I’m searching for the connection to my womanhood. I’m searching for what makes a woman a woman. I’m reading gender theory and talking to friends around the world and wondering exactly what it is that I’m missing.

What does the rest of the world know that I don’t?

I’m 22 when my marriage ends because my body might not be attractive to my husband one day, and my parents email him in support and solidarity, expressing sympathy, and I’m not surprised.

I’m 22, and standing up for who I am has cost me everything. A spouse, two sets of parents, financial security, a city’s worth of community, more childhood friends than I can count. My parents tell me to go back in the closet so my ex-husband will love me. To them, his frustration is understandable, of course—by presenting androgynously, I’m betraying my marriage vows, after all.

I wonder, stunned into silence, where I promised to look like a woman.

I’m 23 when I come out to my parents for the third time; not as bisexual, not as trans, but as hurt.

I lay out the pain of the last decade as succinctly as I can, hoping they’ll hear. When I assert that yes, to be in relationship with me, use of my name and pronouns is a requirement, my mother jokes, “Well, we don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

It’s not a joke.

I see the flash in her eyes, the instant regret as she laughs it off like it’s funny, but it isn’t.

The kid sitting at the dinner table knows it’s not a joke. The kid who listened to countless lectures on the morality of queerness knows it’s not a joke. The kid who stood with shaking hands and tried to bleed out the bad knows it’s not a joke. Years of casual bigotry taught me how to hate myself, which parts of myself I should cross out and ignore, which parts of myself I should be ashamed of.

I’m 23, and I have finally unlearned shame, and when I ask my parents to see me, the joke is that I’m a terrorist. I’m unreasonable.

The shock of it becomes a balm, later on.

Some jokes aren’t funny.

Some jokes aren’t jokes at all.

I’m 24 and I’m learning that it’s scary to be alone. Bigotry made me an orphan and made us strangers, and knowing that it’s the right choice to stand up for myself doesn’t make it any easier. I’m learning the only way out is through, if you’re not squeamish:

Cut off the part of yourself that’s 7 years old standing outside of their bedroom because the nightmare had teeth and claws and they are the heroes that will hold you close and make it warm again.

Amputate.

Cauterize.

Don’t let them see you bleed.

I’m learning that the wound takes a long, long time to close.

I’m 25 as I write this, and I am proud of who I am, even if I’m still bleeding. All of who I am. It’s taken a long time for me to let that person see the sun, but here we are, basking in the glow. Those wounds are healing. I am visible for everyone else who whispers, “So am I.”

Your sunshine will come. Your sunshine will come.

Your sunshine will come.

#long post #alex talks #tw transphobia #trans day of visibility #international transgender day of visibility #tw homophobia #tw suicide #tw self harm

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burnednotburied · 4 days

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Chapter Three

AO3 Link | Chapter 2 Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas

Note: This is not at all how I thought this chapter would start. Alas, I am riddled with religious trauma, and Taylor Swift just released the song “Guilty as Sin?” I mean… “My boredom’s bone-deep This cage was once just fine Am I allowed to cry? I dream of cracking locks, Throwing my life to the WOLVES” Are you kidding me? It’s perfect. So this started out differently than I planned. But what was I to do? I am just a girl.

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There were many topics on which you had been educated in-depth but were never supposed to experience first-hand.

Sex was one of those topics.

You knew the mechanics of it. The anatomy that was involved. Its purposes and benefits. The dangers of it.

You had been told, vehemently, that it was something that should never be done outside of the safe and proper confines of marriage.

Which meant you could never do it because you could never marry.

The Prophet had to remain pure.

Set apart.

Free from romantic, familial, worldly ties.

You were taught to suppress any desire to do otherwise. A task that you had been mostly successful at upholding.

But there were times when your eyes lingered where they shouldn’t and your own thoughts made you shiver and blush.

It was the sin of lust.

The other major vices were usually easily circumvented. You could be disciplined and selfless, just and kind, modest and brave.

You always did what you were told, and you didn’t ask questions.

You told yourself that you weren’t weak; you just knew your place. You knew what was expected of you, and no other options had ever been made available.

So, like thrown clay, you had allowed yourself to be molded into the person you were today, each piece of you carefully and intentionally shaped by the hands of others.

The Elders created the perfect Seraphite specimen. Quietly devout. Enigmatic. Indelible. Untouchable. Obedient.

A mouthpiece disguised as a leader.

A Prophet.

They made you.

You were not a naturally occurring thing.

Sometimes you didn’t even feel human.

Lust was one sin you knew could be concealed, buried far below your surface, unseen by critical eyes.

It was a small act of rebellion. A hidden glimmer of defiance. Although, you weren’t doing it on purpose.

And it was made especially loathsome due to the regrettable fact that it only ever happened to you when you were looking at or thinking of a woman…

Now the Wolf stood in front of you, hammer held tightly in her right hand.

Demons were quickly descending upon you, and you had just witnessed (and neglected to intervene into) the death of three of your own people. The only person you helped was the Wolf, your enemy, who you were meant to kill.

You could guess what the Elders would say if they were here now. How disappointed they would look as they pointed out your many failings.

For once, you didn’t care.

Strangely, despite everything, you felt like a bird whose cage door was just thrown wide open.

Or a well-trained dog that had been mistakenly let off leash.

You could breathe. Unrestricted.

Your eyes remained glued to the Wolf.

Her back was to you, her soaked clothes clinging to her skin. Her shoulders rose with each of her deep, deliberate breaths.

Time seemed to slow as your eyes traced down the length of her arms, taking in her strong form…

See, you knew the sin of lust was bad, if only because it made you stupid.

Or distracted, at the very least.

Demons were coming, and you had just been moments away from gutting this girl.

You definitely couldn’t trust her.

But you didn’t have to trust her to look at her.

A series of snapping twigs and high-pitched shrieks from the surrounding forest instantly brought your attention back to the approaching threat.

Demons were another one of those things that they taught you about but never thought you’d actually encounter.

When you arrived on the mainland that morning, you had been led to the network of Seraphite-built bridges, above the city, concealed in the clouds.

Nearly your entire day had been spent in the sky.

If there were any Demons below, you didn’t see them.

Honestly, you hoped you’d never have to come across the cursed creatures.

The sounds they made were animalistic, but somehow still eerily human. Like a voice that was either enraged or overwhelmed with pain.

You had been told that they were unsavable. Completely consumed by the disease and irrevocably punished for their sins. No longer even human.

As a child, you heard stories of the first Prophet valiantly fighting off hordes in defense of her early followers.

In training, they taught you how to fight both Demons and human adversaries alike. Although the former was always theoretical.

You were shown sketches, detailing the different stages of it.

Foolishly, you thought you were ready.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for what came running out from the cover of the trees.

It moved faster than you would’ve thought possible, too quickly for you to take it all in, but the glimpses you captured were grotesque.

It went straight for the Wolf, swinging its arms wildly. She effortlessly dodged its attack before striking with the hammer. Hard. It was dead in just three blows.

Two more approached from behind you, closest to Lev, and it was past time for you to be useful.

Lev was a skilled archer, but he was still a kid. And Yara, also a kid, only had use of one of her arms.

Both of the Demons were focused on Lev. He fired an arrow, hitting one of them in the chest, but it didn’t take it down.

Its back was to you.

You couldn’t let yourself freeze again.

You closed the distance between you and the beast, lifting your dagger with both hands and bringing it back down swiftly, piercing deeply through its skull.

It let out one last pained shriek as it fell.

The Wolf had taken out the other Demon before Lev had to loose another arrow.

But there were two more where those came from. One swung at the Wolf, and the other came for you.

You were able to dodge, narrowly missing the impact of its savage attack. Stepping back, you continued to evade its blows.

You swung at it, but the thing was fast. Your blade cut into its shoulder instead of its head. Ripping your weapon out, you tried again. This time, you hit your target.

That was two for you.

“Prophet, look out!” Yara shouted. Before you could discern which direction the threat was coming from, you were brutally thrown to the ground, the wind knocked out of you entirely.

Death wore the grisly face of the Demon standing above you.

You had dropped your dagger, leaving you completely defenseless.

Lev’s arrows pierced its throat twice.

It kept coming.

You blinked and it was on the ground. The Wolf knelt over it, hammer crashing over its skull repeatedly, past when the thing was decidedly dead, until the hammer actually broke in her hand.

You just blinked again.

She saved you.

Why did she save you?

You scrambled to your feet, your breaths coming too quickly.

You tried not to panic.

You had only almost died.

You were fine.

The Wolf dropped the splintered remnants of the hammer and stood, shaking out her hand. You stared as she walked over to where your dagger lay on the ground and bent to pick it up.

She looked at you for—as far as you could tell—the first time since you’d cut her down from the rope.

She walked over, holding your gaze.

You realized that she could kill you now. That that was likely why she had saved you.

So she could end you herself.

Because you were the Prophet, and a Seraphite. Or because you had nearly killed her before.

She could even do it with your own weapon. The one that had been meant for her.

You imagined that would be satisfying for a brutish Wolf.

As she approached, you noticed that she towered over you, making you doubly aware of the fact that this was not a fight you would win if it came down to it. Especially when you were unarmed.

She stopped when she stood only a couple feet in front of you, turning the dagger over in her hand and simply offering it to you, handle-first.

Dumbly, you slowly reached out and took it.

Her hand fell back to her side.

There was a hint of a smug little smile on her face, like she knew what you had been thinking.

“Try not to drop that again, yeah?” she said, voice low. It was the first time she’d spoken directly to you, and you resented the way it made your cheeks warm.

Before you could come up with a competent response, Yara interrupted.

“Prophet, Wolf! Come on. We have to move!” She held a lit torch in her uninjured hand. Lev stood at her side, ready to run.

“Where are you going?” the Wolf asked, unsure if she would be following. You were already moving to join Yara and Lev.

“Out of these woods. We’ve gotta run! Now! The coast is this way.”

They took off into the trees with you close behind. The sound of footsteps falling behind you informed you of the Wolf’s apparent decision to tag along, at least for the time being.

You could also hear more Demons, closing in on either side, chasing the torch’s light. Which meant they were after Yara.

You ran faster, trying to close the distance between you just in case.

As she passed an abandoned vehicle, one of the Demons jumped out, tackling her to the ground.

Lev shot an arrow through its head as you ran to her, pushing the dead Demon off and helping her back to her feet.

The horrifying chorus of even more of them, just beyond your vision, made you startle with each screech.

“They’re all around us!” Yara cried, moving closer to her brother.

The Wolf, weaponless after breaking the hammer, quickly looked around, finding a glass bottle. She grabbed it and threw it at the next creature that emerged from the forest.

The Demon slowed, momentarily stunned, and the Wolf wasted no time knocking it over and bringing her foot down on its skull hard and fast.

Just one stomp and it was dead.

You flushed again, transfixed.

Stupid.

You should not find that attractive.

But she was undeniably incredible.

You shook your head in an attempt to refocus as you turned to watch Lev take down another with a couple well-aimed shots.

A shriek behind you revealed the presence of yet another. You turned to meet it, killing the thing easily enough.

It seemed your training in combat had been sufficient after all, at least where Demons were concerned.

“That was the last of them,” Yara said.

“You guys okay?” the Wolf asked, like she might actually care.

“Yeah,” Lev breathed out, bow and arrow still at the ready.

“We have to keep moving before more come,” Yara insisted, taking up the lead again as she pressed forward.

You all ran after her.

“Every direction looks the same,” said the Wolf. You were inclined to agree. “You sure you know where you’re going?”

“It has to be this way,” Yara said, quietly determined.

“What the hell am I doing?” the Wolf muttered to herself under her breath.

The four of you picked up your speed as the Demons grew closer.

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Abby seriously had no idea what the hell she was doing.

She was running through the woods, fighting off Infected with three Scars.

And one of them was the Prophet.

Who had been fully intending to disembowel her not too long ago…

Something had to be wrong with her. Maybe it was brain damage from nearly suffocating.

Because this wasn’t like her.

A couple hours ago, Abby was killing Scars. Happily.

Well maybe that wasn’t the best word for it. It didn’t make her happy. She just didn’t feel bad about it.

And now, she was prancing through the forest and going out of her way to protect Scars?

The kids were one thing. They seemed to be just as in danger with other Scars as they were with the Infected.

What had that one woman called them? Apostates?

Abby had done enough reading to know what the word meant. She guessed they must have broken some stupid, insane rule and run off.

Or been kicked out.

Either way, from what Abby had gathered, they had gone rogue and were being hunted by their own people.

Which meant they weren’t necessarily her enemy.

But the other girl. The Prophet…

Abby didn’t know what was going on with you.

Were you going rogue too, or were your friends just dead and you needed help getting past the Infected and out of the woods?

And yeah, you had been about to kill her before. But you’d stopped as soon as there was a distraction. Took the out the second it was offered.

And then you had been the one to cut her down.

So maybe you didn’t want to kill her.

That counted for something, right?

Abby didn’t let herself think too much about how pretty you were.

How stunning your eyes looked when they met hers.

How your fingers felt, lightly grazing her bare skin for just a second, then leaving all too soon.

And how you had definitely blushed when she spoke to you.

See? She totally wasn’t thinking about any of that at all.

And she was probably delusional.

And way too distracted, spending any amount of time or energy thinking about such crazy shit while you were all actively running for your lives.

Abby was bringing up the rear of the group, and she knew a horde of Stalkers was not far behind her.

She really hoped these Scars knew where they were going.

“It’s just up here!” the girl, Yara, shouted from up ahead, leading the way to a wall of hanging vines.

The boy, Lev, pulled the vines aside, revealing an opening behind. Yara carefully but quickly maneuvered through. You waited until both she and Lev were on the other side before looking up at Abby expectantly.

There wasn’t time to argue, so Abby went next. You followed closely behind, then let the vines fall back into place, hiding your path from the Infected that pursued.

On the other side, Abby was met with the sight of several dead bodies, clearly recently slaughtered.

She couldn’t tell from this distance what had killed them. Or if they were Scar or WLF.

“Those are fresh. There another way around?” she asked, maneuvering around the corpses.

Lev spoke up. “If there were, would we be going this way?”

Okay. Fair point.

Yara pointed to a chain link fence with the torch. “Come on, Lev. Get it open.”

The kid tried to bend the steel wires up to create an opening. It didn’t budge, despite his efforts.

“Move,” Abby said. He did.

She strained as the piece of fencing gave way beneath her hands.

“Get in there, Prophet,” she said, teeth clenched.

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You quickly slid through the opening and popped up on the other side.

Finally, you were free of the suffocating forest.

The clearing was illuminated with light of the full moon.

You wandered on ahead as Lev, Yara, and the Wolf came through the fence behind you.

“Prophet?” A new voice spoke out as you turned the corner. The reverence in the person’s tone alone told you that you were dealing with a Seraphite.

You turned toward the voice to see a woman you recognized but whose name you couldn’t recall. She was large and stood tall, the side of her face bloody and a pickaxe in her grip.

She had been part of a patrolling squad in the area. You’d seen her briefly earlier in the day, with Emily, after the Wolf had been captured.

The woman saw that you were, in fact, who she thought you were, and she bowed her head out of respect.

“Are you alright, Prophet? What are you doing out here? Where is Emily?”

You were at a loss for words.

Her voice was calm and concerned now, but you knew that she would kill Lev, Yara, and the Wolf if given the chance.

“I—”

Your two friends entered the clearing behind you, drawing her eyes toward them.

“Apostates,” she hissed, and instantly her demeanor changed.

She rushed past you, ruthlessly throwing Yara to the ground and lifting Lev up by his neck.

You moved without thinking, your dagger still tightly clutched in your fingers. Again, you raised your arms above your head, just as you had done when fighting the Demons. Using all of your strength, you brought the blade down above her head, piercing her skull. The weapon was long enough that it exited through her chin.

Her body slackened and slumped to the ground. Dead.

You stared down at her, feeling the weight of what you had just done.

This wasn’t a Demon. It wasn’t an animal.

She was a living person.

And a Seraphite. One of your own people.

You were supposed to be her Prophet. Her leader. Her new hope.

She hadn’t been watching her back because she never imagined that you could betray your people like that. That you would pose a threat to her.

You continued to stare, holding your breath. You couldn’t look away.

You didn’t deserve to look away.

You felt a sob rising in your throat. Your eyes began to water.

No. You would not cry.

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Abby was the last to enter the clearing.

By then, the Scar was already holding Lev in the air, and you were already approaching from behind, lifting your dagger.

Abby watched as you killed her.

Woah.

You were good with that knife, she’d give you that.

Yara and Lev got back to their feet and watched as you stared down at the dead Scar, unmoving. Like you were frozen.

You weren’t even breathing, and you looked like you might cry.

Abby had been wondering how many WLF soldiers you killed today before you got to her. If the three she’d seen hanging when she first came to were yours.

Now, she was sure they weren’t.

Because based on your reaction, that had to be your first time.

She wasn’t usually one to be especially sensitive to the emotions of others, but when she heard you sniffle, finally taking in a ragged breath, she couldn’t help but move towards you.

Abby thought of her own first kill. How easy it was to do in the heat of the moment, but how torn up she’d been in the aftermath.

She understood that it was necessary, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard as hell.

She fought the urge to put a hand on your shoulder, or even rub your back soothingly. Reminded herself of who you were and who she was and all the reasons why she shouldn’t even be here right now.

Instead, she bent to retrieve your dagger from the body. She tried to hand it back to you, but you were still stuck, staring down.

“Hey. You did a good job.” She took your hand in hers, placing the handle into your palm and closing your fingers around it. She didn’t let go, allowing her hands to fully encompass yours.

Abby waited until you met her eyes. “You saved them,” she said, nodding towards Lev and Yara, who were both silently watching this unfold. “You did what you had to do.”

You drew your eyebrows together at that, like you wanted to argue. But you seemed to change your mind, ultimately just nodding your head lightly.

She let her hands drop and glanced back down at the slumped body again, her eyes catching on something.

“Wait. Is that my backpack?” Abby asked, looking more closely.

Beside her, you lifted your shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

“Probably. Emily gave it to her earlier,” you said numbly.

Abby didn’t need to ask who Emily was. She could guess.

She reclaimed her belongings while you pulled yourself together.

“Are you two alright?” you asked the siblings.

“Yes, Prophet,” Lev answered, watching you closely. Abby noticed that you seemed to bristle ever so slightly at his use of your title. You didn’t say anything though.

She held her rifle in her hands again, happy to have her stuff back.

Especially the guns.

Wordlessly, the Scar kids led the way into the nearest building.

Out of habit, Abby began gathering supplies as you went along, taking ammo and medical supplies and anything else that seemed useful.

“How’s the arm?” she asked Yara, breaking the long stretch of silence.

“I have it under control,” the girl insisted defensively.

“Okay…” Abby took a box of ammo from a cabinet. “Grab any supplies you find.”

“We can’t touch this stuff. It’s Old World,” Lev said, like that should’ve been obvious.

“Are you fu---? You need supplies. We’re not out of the woods yet.” She opened and then shut a drawer. “Pun fucking intended.”

“What’s a pun?” Lev asked from another room.

Abby didn’t have the energy to answer that question.

Instead she said, “I’ve never seen Scars go after Scars like that before.”

“Seraphites,” you and Lev corrected in unison as you explored different rooms of the building.

Again, she ignored. “So what the hell did you do?”

“I shaved my head,” Lev answered simply.

Abby scoffed. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

The group passed through building after dilapidated building, heading towards the coast. At least in theory.

“We’re almost there,” Yara said. “Just a little farther.”

She led the way down a steep drop-off into another run-down building. One where you wouldn’t be able to get back out the same way you went in.

“Now what?” Abby threw out, tired and frustrated.

“I’m quite confident it’s this way.”

“Quite confident?” Abby repeated incredulously.

“You don’t have to follow us,” Lev pointed out.

“You want me to leave you three out here alone?” Abby shot back.

Your response was an immediate and insistent, almost panicked, “No!”

Everyone else turned to you, surprised.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Lev offered.

Abby found the front doors, but they were held firmly closed by a metal gate on the outside.

Above the door was a large opening, too high for Abby to pull herself out of, but not too high for someone to climb through with a boost.

“If you get us through there, we’ll open the gate,” Lev said.

Abby remembered again that these were Scars she was dealing with. And like hell was she going to boost you all up to safety just so you could leave her stranded here.

“Get them out,” you said, as if you could read her mind. “I’ll stay with you.”

Lev started to protest but stopped after one shake of your head.

Abby nodded. “Okay. Come on.”

He gave you one last look before walking over to her, stepping into her open hands and pulling himself through the opening.

“Your turn.” Abby looked at Yara. “Watch that arm.” She carefully helped the injured girl maneuver up and out.

The all too familiar shriek of Infected sounded off behind you, coming from deeper in the building.

On the other side of the doors, Lev pushed at the gate. It wouldn’t budge.

“The gate’s stuck!”

“Fuck! Hurry up!” Abby looked back and forth between the door and the direction the Infected were coming from.

“We’ll look for another way!” Yara said, and the two of them disappeared from view.

Abby tried to stay calm and prepared herself for the inevitable fight.

“They’re not going to leave me,” you said, drawing her attention. You held your knife at the ready, rolling your shoulders back.

She didn’t respond, not sure if she believed you.

“They won’t,” you reiterated.

“I hope you’re right, Prophet.” She offered one of the weapons from her stash. “You ever shot a gun before?”

You shook your head but accepted the firearm anyway.

“Come here. I’ll show you.”

What Abby hoped would only be a few Infected turned out to be an entire horde. Runners, Stalkers, Clickers, and even a couple Shamblers.

You were fighting them off like a champ.

Seriously. She was impressed.

You’d kept the gun, watched her rushed demonstration on how to operate it, but ultimately chose to primarily stick with the dagger.

Both of you had been fighting for several minutes as you moved through the building. No sign of the other two Scars. Abby had pretty much resigned herself to needing to find her own way out.

She cleared the room she was in, lowering her weapon to take a breather.

You were in the next room, and it sounded like you had cleared that one out too.

The only warning Abby had before she felt the blow was you urgently shouting, “Wolf!”

A Stalker that she failed to notice had her pinned to the ground, knocking her rifle from her grip in the process.

It reared its head back as Abby struggled, fighting to get it off her.

A gunshot rang out, and the Infected slumped, lifeless.

She shoved it off her and sat up to see you standing there, borrowed gun still aimed and ready.

“Good girl!” Abby exclaimed, beaming up at you from where she sat on the floor.

Wait.

What the fuck?

She meant to say “good job”…

Actually, she hadn’t meant to say anything.

You lowered the weapon. Based on the look on your face, you were just as taken aback by her use of those words as Abby was. Although, she managed to keep it from showing on her face. Mostly.

She stood quickly and fumbled through a recovery. “Good shot. That was—I mean—It was a good… A good shot. Good job.”

You smiled softly at Abby’s obvious display of nerves, walking over to where her rifle had fallen when she was attacked.

You picked it up and returned it to her.

“Try not to drop that again, yeah?” you said, mimicking the teasing tone Abby had used when she said those same words to you earlier that night.

She made a face. Something that was equal parts embarrassment and amusement.

“Prophet! Over here!” came Lev’s quiet voice from the next room.

You shot Abby an I told you so look before the two of you ran after the sound.

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

When Yara collapsed, the Wolf picked her up and carried her.

You listened as she quietly comforted your dear friend, encouraging her to keep breathing and promising to find somewhere to rest soon.

Your heart felt soft for her in that moment.

Or maybe you were just exhausted.

Lev led the group with you in the back, gun drawn and alert to the best of your current abilities.

You entered a clearing, full of enormous metal boxes and small, raised buildings. All things from the Old World that you had never seen before and didn’t have words for.

The Wolf instructed Lev to start checking the doors of all the small buildings. It took a few tries before he found one that was open.

The inside was in noticeably better shape than any other structure you’d seen on the mainland, with a few simple, fully intact pieces of furniture.

You watched as the Wolf moved through the first small room and into the second, carefully setting Yara down on the couch. She went over to the windows, checking again to make sure the four of you hadn’t been followed.

When Yara began to slowly remove her overshirt, you were quick to help, being especially careful with her injured arm.

It was swollen and bright red from her elbow down to her fingertips, visibly mangled. You had to bite back a gasp.

Lev stood on the other side of the room, a horribly worried expression on his face.

It wouldn’t be helpful for you to panic now.

“Hey,” you said to him, light and encouraging, drawing his gaze to you and away from his hurt older sister. “It just needs to be set. Okay?”

You turned your eyes to the Wolf who was still hovering by the window. “You know how to do that?”

The face she made confirmed what you already knew. Yara needed much more than just for the arm to be set.

Still, the Wolf walked over, instructing Lev to cut the discarded overshirt into strips and telling Yara to lean back.

You helped her, kneeling on the floor by the side of the couch where her head lay, ready to assist in any way you could.

“I’m gonna move it, okay?” said the Wolf.

“Okay.”

They were both speaking so softly.

“You ready?” she asked.

Yara nodded, reaching her uninjured hand out for one of yours. You held it, letting her squeeze as tightly as she needed to.

The crunching noise the arm made as it was set nearly made you sick.

Yara let out a series of pained noises, panting and grunting. You used your free hand to gently brush the loose strands of her hair from her face, tucking them behind her ears.

You whispered that the worst was over, and that she would be okay now.

You didn’t know if that was true, but you hoped it comforted her a little.

The Wolf broke a leg off a wooden chair, took the newly cut strips of fabric that Lev offered, and went to work bracing the newly-set arm, using the chair leg as a splint.

Yara watched the Wolf’s face.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The Wolf secured the last piece of cloth before she answered, meeting Yara’s gaze.

“Abby,” she said.

She stood, looking to Lev and then to you.

“I should go,” the Wolf—Abby—said.

You stood too, to walk her out.

Lev quickly filled in the space that you left, kneeling the same spot and taking Yara’s waiting hand in his.

Abby grabbed her backpack and followed you into the first room, toward the door.

You paused, turning to face her.

“Are you—” You wanted to ask where she was going. What she would do next. Really, if you were being honest, you didn’t want her to go at all.

But you didn’t have the right to ask for any of those things, so instead you went with, “Are you okay?”

You gestured to your neck, meaning to indicate the dark, noose-shaped bruises that circled her own throat.

It felt like so long ago that she’d been hanging in front of you, unfortunate to find herself on the wrong end of your dagger. But, realistically, only a couple of hours had gone by.

She cleared her throat, her own fingers instinctively ghosting over the marks.

“Oh umm… Yeah. It’ll be fine.” She waited a beat before adding, “Thanks for cutting me down.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, considering it was technically your fault she needed to be cut down in the first place.

You settled on a nod and a tight smile.

She turned to go, twisting the doorhandle and stepping back out into the rain.

Before you could close the door behind her, she looked back and said, “This area gets a lot of traffic. Whatever shape she’s in…” Abby leaned closer, hand on the door frame, “You need to get out of here by tomorrow.”

Again, you nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

She held your gaze for a moment longer before she turned and walked down the steps.

You shut and locked the door.

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

As Abby walked away from the office trailer, she couldn’t help the images that came to mind.

She kept envisioning you and Lev and Yara, dead.

Hanged and gutted by the Scars.

Or shot by the WLF.

Or ripped to shreds by Infected.

She had real responsibilities. A friend to look for. A whole community counting on her.

She had a war to get back to.

But if she left now, would she always wonder about what happened to you?

The urge to stay near you—to protect you—was so overwhelming. She didn’t know where it was coming from or what she should do with it.

You were not safe, but she knew you were much safer with her.

Isaac had warned her that the first Scar Prophet had been able to make even the most dedicated soldiers turn on a dime. He said that with just a few carefully chosen words, she could make a person question where their loyalties lied.

It had seemed so ridiculous just that morning, but now you were doing the same thing to Abby.

You were in her head.

But this didn’t feel like manipulation.

She didn’t know what it was that drew her to you, but it felt real. Natural. And entirely unintentional.

Or maybe she was reading you all wrong, and you really were a master manipulator.

Abby needed to make a decision. Because she was currently standing still in the pouring rain with the trailer still in view.

She chose to trust her gut.

And her gut was telling her to turn around. To stay with you.

Owen would have to wait.

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

Note: Thank you to anyone who’s read all three chapters of this! The fact that literally anyone has is absolutely bonkers to me. I’ve already learned so much about myself as a writer since I started writing fics a couple weeks ago. For example, this week I learned that I DO NOT enjoy writing fight scenes… Unfortunately it was thoroughly unavoidable for this chapter. Regardless, I really hope it was interesting to read, and I’m looking forward to fleshing out the relationship between Abby and my reader more and more!

#abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

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mrghostrat · 1 month

Note

dude. that reverse bnf fic sounds SO fucking good… the ideas u have cooking up in there… i’m excited just thinking abt it ASKFNKF

YAAAS THANK YOU

i had more thoughts today... thinkin of the ask i got about the "i'll always know the stain was there" scene and how i've never written that before. which. ofc. turned into more ace porn.

Aziraphale spills wine on himself at Crowley’s place. He’s resigned to throw the shirt away. Crowley, Mr minimalist clean freak, rolls his eyes and takes charge of cleaning it off. Aziraphale hesitates then takes his undershirt off too, and Crowley bluescreens. Aziraphale half-asks him, “I’d hate for it to be stained too. It might be an undershirt, but I’d always know the stain was there.” Crowley takes it as well, leaving Aziraphale shirtless in his house.

While they sit around and he scrubs on his homemade stain remover, Aziraphale sits a little shyly, clearly affected. His nipples are hard. Crowley gathers the courage to ask him if it turns him on. “What, you cleaning??” “No. Being exposed like that. The air on your skin.” Aziraphale hesitates because he thinks Crowley is calling him out on some kind of abnormal kink or fetish, so he deflects, “Is that some ace thing as well?” not expecting Crowley to say yes. Crowley sits next to him.

“For me anyway. It’s not the person who turns me on, it’s the touch. So, sometimes, that touch comes from unexpected places. Cold tile on my skin after a shower. Satin sheets.” Aziraphale noticeably shivers.

“S’why I like, personally… Being teased. Light touches; Chasing after it. That anticipation adds to the sensation.” He grazes a hand over Aziraphale’s bare arm and Aziraphale gasps. Crowley laughs at him.

“Ffs. No wonder you struggle getting off if you’re watching the same porn everyone else does. Probably Google Imaging boring old pin ups of girls in fancy bras—“ Aziraphale gives him a LOOK, so Crowley adjusts, “—Or, Boys in skimpy briefs. What good’s that going to do if you can’t imagine how they’d touch you?”

Aziraphale is momentarily perplexed. “You know, I can’t think the last time anyone assumed me anything other than flamingly gay,” but it somehow doesn’t feel avoidant of the topic, he’s just so caught off guard by it.

Crowley’s suddenly a little annoyed, mostly at The World, but a little bit creeps in towards Aziraphale. “Assuming doesn’t help anyone. It only gets people confused about the boxes they’re meant to fit into. Bloody useless things, boxers. Er, boxes.”

His fingers have been dragging idly up and down Aziraphale’s thigh the whole conversation.

He stops when he realises Aziraphale’s hands are strategically placed in his lap. Crowley stops. Apologises, didn’t realise what an effect he was having, he just wanted to make a point—

But Aziraphale hasn’t felt like this in such a long time. He’s worked himself off, but nothing’s compared to this feeling of anticipation and bone deep arousal. He somehow finds the words to ask if Crowley would keep going. Show him what kind of touches he likes, maybe it would be informative. Crowley gets him off on the sofa, teasing and working him to a climax that has him death gripping Crowley’s arm and whimpering into his neck.

-------

Later, hours or days later, Aziraphale is watching Crowley move around the house, maybe in his pants or a towel or something, but being totally innocuous. As innocuous as Aziraphale’s voice when he pipes up, completely unprompted, “I don’t think I’m asexual, Crowley.”

“This again?” Crowley’s exasperation is fond.

“No. Sometimes the sight of you makes me want to… Pin you against a wall or something.”

Crowley freezes, a mental ngk that takes a few minutes to reboot him. He tries and fails to sound casual and unaffected when he says “Maybe you’re demi,” and keeps folding his laundry like Aziraphale hasn’t just shoved a hot poker into his brain.

“Mmm,” Aziraphale agrees, even though Crowley knows he doesn’t know what that means, but he’s too busy leching to follow up and ask.

#ask a rat #reverse bnf #bnf au #ratwips

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loserboy-futterman · 27 days

Note

Hey,hi! If possible could I request a Derek Danforth x bottom male reader (smut if it’s not a problem) story where Reader is a spy sent to gain Derek trust and obtain information about the last scandal that happened but ends up falling under Derek charm? Thanks <3

Derek Danforth x Male!Reader

A/N: thank you sm for giving me my first request on this account, there for christening it with smut. Enjoy! also this was so fun to write and i made reader like an fbi agent, i hope thats alright<3

-Wolf in Sheep's clothing-

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning!! 18+ content ahead!! Gay porn ahead!!

includes; rimming, degrading, praise, anal sex, skimpy outfits

This was already a nightmare.

You were a detective, a man of law and justice. Someone who took down the bad guys and saved the day! A man that could be trusted to keep you safe.

But today? Today you were a 'dancer' at a sleezy night club. How does that happen you may ask? All thanks to billionaire brat, Derek Danforth.

Your mission was to get close to Derek and get him vulnerable, get him to tell you his secrets and expose his company. Then, destroy him and throw him behind bars. Should be easy enough. If only.

You adjusted the entirely too small tube top you had on and tried to pull the tiny shorts down so your junk wasn't almost popping out. Huffing, you set your eyes on the night club, scanning the dark room as you tried to find Derek's famous blonde mullet. It was hard to see anything with all the people, so you began moving swiftly through the crowd, scanning tables and booths. Trying to get a glance at everyone without drawing too much attention. You make your way through most of the club until he's there. You spot Derek sitting at a booth in a far corner of the club, sprawled out to take up half the space. Surprisingly, he's more alone then you initially thought he'd be. Instead of being surrounded by beautiful men and women, he's only got his number two by his side. The two are talking in hushed whispers when you walk up to the booth and slide in, sitting right up against Derek.

"Lookin' awfully lonely over here gentlemen, care for some company?" You could vomit at how high and bubbly your voice sounded, completely foreign to how you usually talk.

Derek's assistant was the first one of the pair to look up at you, clearly uncomfortable with another person around during their sensitive conversation. "No, no- thanks." He muttered quickly, trying to wave you off as he shifted in his seat, trying not to look at your scandalous outfit.

"I wasn't really asking you." Your attention is on Derek, whom, has been looking at his phone until now. His head picks up when he starts to feel you scoot closer to him. His dark eyes trace down your form quickly, making you feel even more exposed.

Derek lean his body towards you before wrapping his arm around your hip, pulling you tight against him. "He can stay, gimme something to look at." Derek leans down to you, giving you a shark-like grin and looking deep in your eyes. He stayed there for a moment as you stiffened under his gaze. You could slap him, but instead you wrap your arms around his neck and smile. "Don't let me interrupt your conversation then."

This is working out perfectly! You knew Derek would be an easy target.

Derek gave you a lazy grin as he pulled away and hit his vape. He blew a few clouds that smelt awful before turning back to the other man, who was frankly, very upset by your presence. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he liked Derek.

"How much are we bringing in?" Derek broke the tense silence as he rolled his head to look at him. The man tensed and you focused your eyes on Derek's hair as you played with it, trying to convince them you weren't listening, only here to jump Derek's bones.

"48." He said stiffly, eyeing you suspiciously. This answer seemed to only upset Derek though as he took a harsh hit of his vape and barked at his employee.

"48 what? Thousand? Million?! Don't fuck with my money!"

Derek's aggressive behavior was a little surprising but not completely unexpected. You had read in his file he was prone to anger spouts, especially when he was high. You decided to use this to your advantage to drive Derek further into your arms.

You began by carding your fingers through his soft hair and whispering soft coos in his ear to calm him down. His chest rises and falls heavily and you seem to cut through his drug-addled mind.

"T-thousand Derek." He replied nervously, shifting uncomfortably as he watched you two.

If Derek was upset before, now he was full of rage. He clenched his jaw tight and his grip around you was almost bruising. Derek let out a deep sigh and glared at his business partner. Even you felt a little shudder run down your spine at the intimidation.

"Go." Derek growled and his partner was quick to scurry off and out of sight. You can't help but let out a laugh as he leaves but Derek's quick to turn his glare on you. "What's so funny?"

"Well, your friend is kind of pathetic." You reply simply with another laugh and it seems to actually lighten Derek up. He chuckles himself and puts on a casual mask even though you can tell he's still tense. His leg is bouncing and you're surprised his vape hasn't exploded yet from over use.

"He really is." Derek tilts his head back and you let your eyes trace down his neck. You can't deny he's handsome but you know what he does and he has no remorse. You clench your jaw and throw a bare leg over his lap. He's quick to run his calloused hand up and down your smooth calf.

"So what do you do, hm? Making millions?" You ask with fake innocence and curiosity. Derek keeps his eyes on the hand stroking your leg like he's mesmerized. Drugs, you think.

Finally he shrugs and looks at you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen them. "I run a software company." He smirks and leans in closer to you, nuzzling his nose and face close into your neck. The sudden closer contact makes you flush and you want to push him away but it's for your job. And maybe, it felt kind of nice to feel Derek's warm breath fan over your neck. "I wanna know about you. You charge?"

You simple shrug and shake your head at him. "No. I'm just here for a good time. Although, a quieter place would be nice." You need to get more information, you need to get him alone and you can snoop around his house.

Derek pulls back from your neck and eyes you for a long moment, trying to decipher your intentions. After a moment, he slowly nods and smiles. "Let's go baby boy." Derek stands (stumbles) up and you follow him up and out of the club. His driver is waiting outside and you both crawl into the back of his limo.

The quiet feels like a breath of fresh air until you remember you're now alone with Derek Danforth, your target. You're both sitting close in the limo but Derek's mind seems to be elsewhere entirely. He's chewing his nails and glaring out the window, clearly stuck in his own head.

"Are you.. okay?" You ask sweetly, causing Derek to look at you and snap back to the present. He shakes his head and grabs your hand.

"Fine sugar. Just worried about my Bitcoin stock is all." Derek grunted out, shifting closer to you, clearly needing more physical touch.

You needed to get him to open up and stop giving these vague answers, even giving plain lies. "You can tell me anything Derek. I won't tell. My trade is in secrets." You cup his cheeks and make him look deep into your eyes.

Derek seems to think about his answer for a long moment before finally the dam breaks. "My stupid company isn't making enough money, even though I trained those stupid fucks myself." He suddenly growls, clenching his fists tight.

Finally, he was cracking. "How come they're not making enough?" You tilt your head and watch him go to reply but the limo comes to a stop and it seems you've arrived at his apartment.

Derek's quick to pull you upstairs to his penthouse apartment and it's absolutely stunning. He pulls you in and makes his way towards the dry bar in the living room. You watch as he pours a shot of expensive whiskey and shoots it. He immediately makes a face and you snicker at him behind your hand.

He glares at you but it doesn't hold much malice. Derek rounds the bar and stands in front of you. He wraps his arm around your waist and leans down close. You can smell the whiskey on his breath but it's almost enticing, instead of gross like usual. "Okay Mr. Chuckles. Tell me your secrets then." He smirks down at you, making your cheeks heat up.

"Well Derek... My secret is..." You lean in closer to him, almost closing the gap but stopping an inch away. "... I think your kinda cute." You admit and it really was true.

Derek is quick to quirk his eyebrow and give you his usual sarcasm. "Just cute? Are you sure?" His voice is filled with confidence and before you know it, he closes the gap between you, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. It seemed Derek didn't know how to go slow or be gentle because he immediately kissed you hard and bit down on your bottom lip.

You know you shouldn't be making out with Derek Danforth but it was all for the mission, to get closer and get more information out of him. It definitely didn't have to do with the growing erection in your tiny shorts. Derek bruised and bit at your lips, sliding his hands down until they rested on the waistline of the small shorts.

Derek was the first to pull away but he still kept his mouth busy as he trailed kissed down your jaw and to your neck. "Jump." Its a simple command but it takes your brain a moment to register through the haze. You jumped up, wrapping your legs around Derek's hips and tangling your arms around his neck. The new position let Derek control the situation as he started to bite harder on your neck, leaving distinct marks. Not that you minded in this moment.

"So fuckin' pretty baby. Cute little outfit too, you okay if i ruin it?" Derek rasped in your ear and bit your earlobe softly. The deep rumble of his voice made you shiver and you chewed on your lip, contemplating if letting Derek fuck you was a good idea. What would you put in your official report? It was getting harder to think as Derek kept working on your neck and moved to push you against the wall, grinding his hips against yours. His green silk pants left nothing to the imagination when he got hard. You groaned softly and dropped your head back against the wall as Derek ground his hips harder. "Well baby? Wont do anything without a yes. Not that you need to say yes."

Derek was now looking at you with those big puppy dog eyes and you could tell he was being genuine. You decide you need more information and this is how to do it. You lean in and capture his lips again, bucking against his own hips and savoring the whine he lets out.

"Ruin it Derek." You mumble against his lips, making him moan loudly. He pushed you harder into the wall, supporting you with his hips and legs so his hands were free to literally rip off the thin tube top you had on. Your nipples pebbled at the cold air and you hissed softly but it trailed into a moan when Derek's warm mouth was on you. He sucked and licked at one pec, fondling the other as he moaned almost more than you were.

You tangled your fingers in his blonde hair and tugged him closer, earning you a high pitched whimper. Derek's hand trailed down your chest and to your stomach, groping it softly before sliding down to grab your cock that's straining the tiny shorts.

"Maybe if i tease you a little more, you'll break these sorry excuse for shorts." He chuckled cruelly and grabbed your cock tight making you whine and squirm in his grip.

"Derek, please." It felt so good but it wasn't enough, far from it and it was driving you insane and he knew it.

"What? What do you want baby? Want me to fuck you until you cry huh? Fuckin slut." Derek hissed the name at you but it made you shiver. You hated how he was talking to you but you fucking loved it, you hated that fact too. His words dripped with cruelty and lust.

You felt so tense and you needed him so much. "Yes!" You surprised yourself with that scream and you shifted your hips against him hard. Derek smirked and grabbed your hips tight to still your movements. He took you to his bed and dropped you on the plush mattress as he stood before you. He quickly tore off his shirt and whipped off his pants, clearly just as desperate as you.

Derek quickly crawled back over you and kissed your chest, leaving hickeys and bruises as his hands hold your hips tight against his. The new skin on skin contact makes fire run through your veins and everywhere Derek touched seemed to be more sensitive than ever.

In a flash, Derek had flipped you on to your stomach and hiked up your ass to meet his cock that was leaking through his Calvin Klein boxers. He growled low in his throat and slid his hips against yours before finally pulling your shorts off and freeing your painfully hard cock. You hissed at how sensitive it was but didn't have time to focus on that as Derek's finger tips prodded gently at your hole. He leaned over your back to whisper in your ear.

"You look so good baby... Mind if I have a taste?" His voice dripped with pure lust.

You nodded, not trusting your own voice and not exactly understanding what he meant until you felt something warm and wet against your hole. You gasped and looked back to meet Derek's dark eyes as he licked and lathered your hole.

"D-Derek!" You shuddered again as Derek winked before plunging his tongue as deep into your hole as he can, rapidly fucking you with his mouth. You cry out and your cock drips pre-cum on the bed like a fountain, showing you were close.

He grabs your ass tight in both hands, pulling away with spit covering his lips and dripping down his chin. He looked like a hungry predator as he wiped his face with his hand and stood up behind you. Derek grabs your hips tight and leans his sweaty chest against your back, pushing you further into the bed.

"You're perfect baby boy. Might just have to keep you." He mumbled into your neck, wrapping one arm around your chest as he angled his cock and began sliding into your wet hole. You panted and whined at the stretch as his head slides in. Derek's hips stop but its clear he's struggling to hold back in a failing attempt to keep teasing you.

"Fuck! I-I cant- i need to fucking ruin you now."

That's all the warning you got before Derek's hips are slamming into yours, shoving his cock all the way inside you and punching the air out of your lungs. Derek cant stop himself from rutting and bucking his hips against you already but every movement feels too good. You moan out and grab the sheets tight in your fists as Derek works his cock in and out of you faster and harder.

He wasn't kidding about ruining you as his hand on your chest wrapped softly around your throat, not applying pressure but it still made your eyes roll back. Especially as he desperately pistoned his hips inside of you, grazing your prostate every so often, making you see spots. Derek panted and moaned in your ear, a mix of praise and degrading words falling from his lips.

"That's it. Fuck yeah, so tight baby."

"Such a hungry fuckin whore f'me."

"Fuuuck, baby, yes, god fuck-!"

You felt your end approaching fast as Derek kept moving and his moans turned to high whines and whimpers, showing he was close too. His pace grew sloppy and your cock rubbed against the bed, making you finally see white and arch your back in the most toe-curling orgasm you've had in a long time.

Derek's let out the sweetest moan when you tightened around him and it was impossible for him not to spill his load inside of you. He gave a few more hard thrusts until he was collapsing against you and panting hard. You grunted under his weight but you didn't attempt to move after that.

"Stay with me?" Derek's gruff voice broke the silence as he nuzzled his nose into your neck again.

You nodded and shifted slightly under him. It seemed this mission would take longer than expected but you don't mind so much.

Derek kissed your shoulder lightly. "Sounds good... Officer."

Shit.

#derek danforth #derek danforth x male reader #derek danforth smut #derek danforth x reader #the beekeeper

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forgottenfourr · 10 months

Text

i saw you in a dream - university smau

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chapter eleven - not off the hook

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word count: 656

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a/n: tbh i have been awake for 43 hours so this shit has not been proof read. so if it doesn't make any sense i will fix it once i wake up from my slumber.

it has come to my attention that a lot of you probably think i am female. i am not. i am male. gay man. homosexual. blue green pride flag. trans flag too. my pronouns are he/xe and i’m a dude :)

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jeongin’s pov:

being emotionally vulnerable is something he never lets himself be. it doesn’t matter if it’s with his family or a professional therapist. he doesn’t do it. so now that he’s come to a head with felix, his best friend, he feels like he is going to bust at the seams at the thought of explaining everything to him.

though felix is a complete and utter asshole for what he did, jeongin feels like he is partly to blame. in felix’s eyes, his behavior the other day wasn’t much different from how he and his friends usually act. jeongin is sure that if felix truly did know just how serious the situation was, he wouldn’t have spilled it to everyone and furthermore breaking jeongin’s trust.

he could feel his breath hitch in his throat as he heard the front door of his apartment click open. his freckled blue hair friend weakly making his way through the door, his usual sunshine demeanor clouded and dazed. even though he tried his best to hide it, guilt and sadness was evident on felix’s face, pinging jeongin in the heart.

one thing felix isn’t is, and never will be, is a bad person. that is something jeongin is 100% sure of. there is not a single bad bone or intention in his body. not even if he tried. jeongin always admired that about him.

that’s why it is almost impossible to stay mad at him. there was no malice or hatred behind felix’s actions.

the air in the apartment was still and almost chilling. even on a warm day like today.

“hi” felix says, almost inaudible.

“hey lix,” there is a smile laced in jeongin’s tone. causing felix to turn to face him almost instantly. the familiar nickname making him feel once again comfortable in his own home.

there is a brief shared moment between them. a collective acknowledgment that things were going to be okay.

“aye-“ felix begins to call out, guilt straining through his voice. but his words became muffled in jeongin’s shoulder and he gets wrapped into a tight hug.

jeongin isn’t one for physical affection so the embrace is taken fully after felix’s initial shock.

felix breaks the hug.

“ayen i am so fucking sorry i didn’t realize how serious it was and i never met to hurt you.-“

“lix.” jeongin tries to cut his best friend off.

felix continues to ramble on. “if i knew i would’ve never said anything in the first place and-“

“FELIX.” jeongin calls out again, admittedly way louder than he was meaning.

felix stopped talking.

“i know you and i know you didn’t mean any harm.” jeongin says in a reassuring tone and felix finds himself releasing a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding in.

“you fucked up big time. but you’re aware of it.” he takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the emotional vulnerability he knew had to come. “but i don’t blame you for it. well i do. but you didn’t know anything other than what i let you know. and that wasn’t much. if i was in your shoes, i’m sure i wouldn’t have taken what i said seriously at all. because frankly, it sounds ridiculous.”

felix finds himself chuckling at jeongin’s words. “yeah, it’s not everyday your best friend tells you that he has strangely realistic dreams and simultaneously has fallen for the person who has been showing up in them.”

jeongin could feel the tips of his ears warm at felix’s statement. he really did sound insane.

“oh fuck off would you?” jeongin says in a teasing and fake annoyed tone. felix just gives him a deadpanned expression before breaking into a smile.

“for the record though,” jeongin adds on. “you’re not off the hook. you’re doing my apartment chores for the rest of the week.” felix groans in response, dramatically throwing himself on the couch.

it was impossible to stay upset with felix.

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annlillyjose · 7 months

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WRITEBLR REINTRO – ANN LILLY JOSE

hello there!

following through with my tradition of posting a new writeblr intro every single year, here we go – a brand new reintro where i talk a little bit about myself and my current writing projects. so, here we go, onto all that good stuff!

about me

i'm ann, a twenty-year-old writer from kerala, currently based in kochi

i live with my husband, who is a musician, and lead a very creative life of sorts

i'm an infp, enneagram type 2

i write literary fiction and poetry

i'm a discovery writer and have a thing for sad stories with traumatised characters

i work as a content writer and social media manager for a wedding company

you can find all my published work on my linktree

my aesthetics: wilted flowers, fallen leaves, silhouettes, shadows, gentle friendships, indie music, unplanned trips, birds, fireflies, annotated books, old libraries and buildings, post-colonial literature, voids, romance

my wips

i recently finished a litfic novel called dairy whiskey and am editing it right now, hoping to get it ready for agent submissions in a month or two. i put my heart and soul and blood and bones into it, so if you’d like to dive into the story and read a few excerpts, you can check out the intro here and every other excerpt here!

rock salt is my main wip since finishing dairy whiskey. it is the story of identical twins rain and norah as they move out for college and navigate their lives on their own, which ends up in them growing apart. if you like complicated sibling relationships and the struggles of growing up, you’ll love this book!

i so badly want to start writing it, but i don’t think i’ll be able to until dairy whiskey is in a more secure position. so, there probably won’t be any updates for a few months, but you can read the wip intro here.

this is a gay vignette novel that i started writing back in 2021 as a source of personal joy. this is the story of how a singer-songwriter desperate for normalcy meets a boy with a heart heavy with guilt. this is the story of how they fall in love and it’s honestly quite wholesome <3

i haven’t worked on this book in so long and i’ve been trying to sneak some words in, but it feels like the book needs a fresh start. i don’t know, i just might start it all over again. but until then, here’s an outdated wip intro.

green room is a literary/experimental memoir documenting my teenage years as a writer. it is a deep dive into craft and how it affects life, particularly how it moulds you as a person. i haven’t started drafting this yet, but here’s a wip intro for now.

so, that’s about it!

if you’d like to be pinged when i drop a new publication or a wip update, just send me an ask to be added to my general taglist and i’ll tag you in those posts.

thank you so much for reading. i hope writing has been going well for you. if not, here’s some strength, some kindness, and some caffeine to keep going!

– love, ann.

general taglist (ask to be added or removed)

@shaonsim @heartfullkings @vnsmiles @dallonwrites @wannabeauthorclive @sienna-writes @violetpeso @flip-phones @silassghost @ambidextrousarcher @zoe-louvre @writing-with-l @magic-is-something-we-create @femmeniism @frozenstillicide @wizardfromthesea @rose-bookblood @coffeeandcalligraphy @rodentwrites @saltwaterbells @snehithiye @at-thezenith @subtlefires

#writeblr reintro #writeblr reintroduction #writeblr intro #writeblr #writer on Tumblr #literary fiction writer #my wips #my writing projects #navigation page #aljwrites

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tulipanthousa · 3 months

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tell us about the unwritten au 👀

okay, full disclosure, this will never be written. i have no intention of ever doing so. if someone else is willing to take a crack at it be my guest but this would be too much for me to handle

so, here it is

Content Warnings: angst, RAPE (<- read this. the dove is dead. do not pass go do not collect $200. youve been warned) both directly and via proxy, and other kinds of sexual coercion

LAOFT RELAMP but at what cost

In main story laoft, durant does not see roman and remy's dalliances as important or a threat to him/his control over roman.

in this story. he does

in an agonizing display of cruelty, he kidnaps remy and presents him to night roman as a gift.

its a terrible position - roman cant reject the gift and risk durants anger, which will end in disaster for both him and remy... but niether can he accept it and walk back into his day life with the knowledge that remy will remain here, trapped, alone with durant, and impossibly far away from anything roman can do to protect him

Roman takes the only path he can find - feign gratefulness so deep that he no longer had need of his day left, and giving it up. because at least if theyre both trapped remy's not alone.

Remy and Roman disappear the same night, stolen from their beds without a sound or a trace left behind.

In wickhills, Logan is incandescent with fury and patton cries so miserably the woods and hills around his house are bone-dead silent. not even the birds want to sing in his presence.

May sits alone in her house, the door locked, refusing to answer for anyone.

The Adams' put up posters across all of southeast ohio knowing nobody is going to call

And emile watches them all and churns with guilt because he didnt know remy, not really, so why does he think he has a right to be this sad?

Back in faerieland, things escalate in a bad way very quickly. Durant coerces Roman and Remy into increasingly intense sexual scenarios for his entertainment.

in the midst of this, having only one other person you can rely on or trust can, coupled with the rapid increase in intimacy, cross the wires a bit, and wwhoops, Remy and roman are in love now

Remy: or whatever passes for love in this shitshow Roman: you dont get to tell me i dont really love you Remy, crying: ok

and tbh, all of this is more of just context for what im ACTUALLY interested which is

they get out. now what?

Because in the meantime, Emile has reached out to patton, we still have LAMP and remile, and now we have pair-of-cats-that-cant-be-separated creativisleep

Logan: you thought canon logan had anger issues? ha. ha i say. this logan would kill a man sooner than let them make roman or remy even slightly uncomfortable. he'll snarled at his own mother if she gets too close. he'll snarl at thomas, though he'll feel bad about both. this is actually! not great! because logan tried to guard from the outside looks a lot like Guards Keeping Us Inside to remy and roman, so they have to figure out how to navigate logans nuclear reactor protectiveness vs it wigging roman and remy out.

Virgil: Virgil waking up is the catalyst for them getting free, and in the midst of his horror falls in QP love at first sight with remy, who was so brave and so strong and kept roman safe when virgil couldnt.

Remy: i dont know if 'safe' is even slihtly accurate Virgil: the safety of his heart and mind are of equal importance to me as his body. you have cherished both, and you can have anything you ask for as long as i live Remy: [gay fluster noises]

Patton keeps determinedly dragging emile to mays house (where they are holed up for close access to dizzy and jax) even though Emile feels like he's intruding

Patton, constantly on the verge of tears: I almost lost Roman and i've decided im in love with all of you and i CATEGORICALLY refuse to lose anyone else Emile: um Patton: RE. FUSE.

so pattons HOPE is that they all wind up in a big polycule pile, and its doesnt... not do that, but its not quite as clearcut as all that.

Theres stumbling blocks at the beginning withboth remy and roman wavering on whether or not their romantic feelings are genuine, and subsequently wondering if the fact that theeyre still in love with Emile and LAM respectively means that they arent.

this would go through some oscillations of both of them trying to deny those feelings to "prove" their love for each other, vs trying to push the other away so they can go be with p[eople they "really love"

do! not! separate them!

in my head this ends with romantic LAMP, Romantic Remile, Romantic Patmile, and QPR losleep and sleepxiety - everybody else is friends and cuddle buddies

Remy is actually super comforted by the fact that Patton is in love with him/attracted to him but never asks for more than friendship because he knows remy isnt. Metamour besties.

Dizzy suffers a lot from this ordeal (she hid from durant and subsequently roman, knowing if he found her as romans familiar it would be catastrophic) so their bond is.... stretched, lets say. overtaxed. she's a little sicklier. a little smaller, a little more timid. hides in remy or virgils jackets frequently

All of which is to say that this is a fraught extended metaphor that sometimes trauma changes you, and it changes your relationships, and it changes the way you feel attraction, and all of that is okay. it doesnt make those feelings or relationships less real or loving or valid.

anyway this is my monster. im not going to write it (please dont ask) but some people have expressed that they were glad i still shared it, so have some bite sized angst

#ask #Anonymous #laoft ask #rape cw

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tench · 5 months

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After years of isolation it's not that easy to deal with realisation that it's very important for personal well-being to have the kind of companionship where it is possible to shamelessly share the deepest cravings of one's soul. It doesn't important if it's cringy gay ships or over-analysing of mediocre media, everyone needs that kind of place where they can unapologetically express themselves and be understood.

I have this bone-deep craving, to share my thoughts and be seen, but time and time again I think that I am doing everything wrong, that I feel or interpret things not as others do, so I must be mistaken. Or that the things that feel important or interesting to me are insignificant or stupid to others.

I'm just bad at being a human, I guess.

#personal

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opinions-about-tiaras · 5 months

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I think it's okay for people to be disappointed and feel misled and maybe even a little upset Scott Pilgrim Takes Off wasn't a more straightforward adaptation.

It's a masterwork as a piece of media, of course; a AU-that's-also-a-sequel based on both the movie AND the graphic novels, in dialogue with both, telling a tight, near-flawless story with immaculate animation and voice acting that, quite frankly, often makes the 2010 movie look poorly directed. (Tony Oliver is getting a LOT more out of these people in the booth than Edgar Wright managed to in front of the camera, frankly.)

And that's part of the problem, I think.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World oozed charm out of every shot; it's beloved by everyone who worked on it, which is always a good sign. But as an adaptation it was flawed in ways that were inevitable. Sacrifices had to be made to fit all six graphic novels that are deliberately messy and are meant as separate narrative arcs into something that runs on the big screen in less than two hours.

That meant a lot had to go missing. The original graphic novels were often leisurely rom-coms where they weren't stark, raw looks at emotional dysfunction, and a big part of their structure was the secondary and supporting cast. A lot of that had to go. Knives entire arc was cut to the bone. Stephen Stills being a hot mess and his weird and hilarious offscreen gay awakening went into the trash. The heart of Volume Four (still the best volume FIGHT ME), Lisa Miller's instigating presence, junked. Roxie Richter and the Katayanagi Twins are reduced basically to jokes. Envy Adams is given just enough to be a villain but none of what she needed to be a real person, which is a big deal in the comics. Even Gideon gets short shrift; the emotional violations and the dark, stinking, malign weaponization of emotional headspace that make him work in the comics are thrown aside in favor of him being a more straightforward supervillain using mind control chips.

And of course the biggest person to get shanked was Kim Pine. Kim had a storyline of quiet desperation, of seeking intimacy while being desperately terrified of it, romantic and sexual awakenings she isn't equipped to handle, deep and personal betrayals almost every volume that she nonetheless perseveres through. That had to go as well.

When I heard there was an animated adaptation coming, I was thrilled that I would finally get to see all of that rendered onto the screen. Scott Pilgrim was born to be an animated series more than it ever was live-action (and it's been proven multiple times over the past five years especially that animation can produce something wildly special when adapting a comic source handled properly) and it was finally going to have the breathing space to do it RIGHT.

Only it isn't that at all.

I wouldn't trade Scott Pilgrim Takes Off for the more straightforward adaptation we were expecting. The series has sunk its hooks deep into my brain, it's like I'm 29 again, driving my terrible, jank-ass car five hours to Toronto to attend the release party of the final volume. There's so much special about it; Knives and Kim's beautiful love duet is one of the most tender, pure things I've ever seen. The League of Evil Exes as a bumbling cadre of weirdos. Everything to do with Roxie Richter.

But it also means that we're probably deeply unlikely to get that more straightforward adaptation anytime soon. And that makes me feel like something has been lost.

And I respect the feelings of those who are disappointed and upset by it. Especially given that the marketing for Scott Pilgrim Takes Off was deliberately deceptive. I think that's a valid way to feel.

#bryan lee o'malley #scott pilgrim takes off #scott pilgrim vs the world #scott pilgrim

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fulltransmetalgenderist · 1 year

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starting testosterone and having a cute guy to top has made me very interested in butch identities. i'm getting real cool and comfy with my masculinity. however, i'm struggling to learn and navigate my butchness when all the content i see is like "no men >:( lesbians only". im a dude and i love a guy and we both have complicated queer trans identities

I agree with you, the idea that butchness only belongs to lesbianism, and that lesbianism is only the absence of men, both lack nuance and don’t hold up when confronted with trans identities.

When I first knew I wanted to start testosterone and to pass as a guy in public, I had a huge crisis about my sexuality. I love women. so much. and I know, deep in my bones, that I don’t love women the same way that a cishet man loves women. but I was worried that if I start to pass and live as a man, then I would be excluded from lesbianism, because of this assumption that lesbianism is when no men. I felt lost and isolated from both lesbians and trans people. But then I read Stone Butch Blues. And then i found more books. And I read more words written by our queer elders and ancestors, who laid the groundwork for all of the lovely flavors of queer we have today. and I talked to the other queer people around me. and eventually I began to understand lesbianism not as the exclusion of men, but about the active inclusion and centering of women and other gender minorities. This new definition of lesbianism completely changed how I saw my own queer landscape. defining terms by what they are not, isn’t very useful to me anymore, I like defining queer terms by what they do, what they accomplish in a queer community.

So when it comes to being butch: think about the actions a person does that makes them butch. For me, I feel most butch when I can step up and help/protect those around me. I feel like a butch when I can give someone good directions in my city, or when I make sure me and all my friends are taking the right train going in the right direction so all they have to do is chat and be tipsy together and not worry about getting lost. I feel butch when I carry my chihuahua over puddles she can’t jump over and she wags her tail when i bend down to pick her up. I feel butch when I hold my partner in my arms and tell them it’s going to be okay. My feeling of butchness arises when my masculinity can be tender and loving and healing. By rooting my butchness in my own actions, I no longer worry about other people’s definition or conception of butch, because I know that I am actively, every day, doing butch things.

also! lesbians aren’t the only ones who use the term butch, gay men use it too. I love how in love with masculinity queers are, and I love that both lesbians and gay men know that cishet men don’t have a monopoly on masculinity, and that queer masculinity is special and unique and deserving of it’s own wonderful word.

and one last little note: as a leftist I am opposed to all nations, states, and borders. when we queers try making hard and fast boundaries between identities, I fear that we are accidentally making our own nation states that require border patrol and enforcement. and I hate border patrol with every cell of my body. we don’t need that shit in our queer communities. abolish borders. they’re so bad for you.

#i’m sorry i’m so long winded #i am just filled with so many queer thots #ftmgenderistasks

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delirious-donna · 2 years

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NSFW Alphabet [Kakashi Hatake]

Masterlist

K - Kink

Kakashi certainly has a few notable kinks, but the one that gets the least amount of attention is how much he loves thigh riding, especially if you are still fully clothed.

The man cannot get enough of your needy little pussy grinding back and forth along his muscled thigh, your cute little mewls growing in intensity as you rock yourself on him.

Don't get me wrong, he is more than thrilled to have your bare cunt making a mess of his pants, the wet patch growing as you fuck against his thigh in complete desperation, but with clothes, it is so much more satisfying.

To know that he can make you cum even through the layers of your clothes, it definitely adds to the slight God complex that he suffers from occasionally.

"Does it feel good princess?"

He smiles at you, his expression is lust incarnate.

One hand on your hip to help you along as the other grips your face between his thumb and fingers. Pearly white teeth graze along your jaw bone, his thumb pressing further into your cheek as you whine for him.

"That's it, fuck my thigh."

Knowing he can make you see stars without removing even a single layer of clothing - empowering.

P - Pace

Oh, don't you worry, Kakashi can fuck you at any pace under the sun. It all depends on the moment, his emotions and how much he can hold himself in check.

You are the infamous copy ninja's personal kryptonite.

There are times when he wants to love you so sweetly, fingers interlinked on either side of your head, long lustful minutes of maintained eye contact and kisses that taste so heavenly you might have thought you actually died from the pleasure.

This is when your silver-haired lover will stroke his cock into your fluttering walls at a languid pace. He has nowhere else to be, except to be cradled by your body. Each roll of his hips is precise and meant to graze every sensitive area within your cunt.

It is more than your bodies that connect, your souls unite to dance in a rhythm of their own. Two puzzle pieces who found their connecting partners. No one will ever fit better.

Other times he cannot leash his insatiable hunger for you.

Slamming you up against the wall the second you walk inside. His hands are everywhere, all at once. You barely have the breath to brokenly mutter a 'hello' before he is hiking your skirt up.

His version of hello is a growl in your ear, teeth nipping your lobe and the loud sound of his zipper lowering. You're wet and wanting in seconds, just as he hoped before he is bullying his way into your cunt. Grunting at how your walls suck him further inside, clenching around his shaft, already trying to milk him.

The pace is lightning quick and absolutely brutal, what a way to welcome you home.

S - Stamina

Are you seriously worried that Kakashi 'horny as hell' Hatake is gonna tap out after one round? Please...

The man could still beat Gai in a foot race even after several rounds of sweet loving.

One and done?

"Princess, we've barely begun. Now get your sexy ass back here!"

V - Volume

Kakashi is a talker, he can't help himself.

Your bashful blush as he narrates every little thing he is doing, or that he plans to do, it's addicting and it's a bit of a game for him now.

It used to be reserved solely for the bedroom but now he finds it amusing to whisper lewd suggestions in your ear as you go about mundane tasks such as grocery shopping.

"Hmm, I know what I'm gonna eat when we get home. I've been dying for a taste of your delicious cream all day long."

The man is a menace.

As for noises, he is usually too focused on speaking to lose himself in animalistic sounds. There are notable exceptions; Kakashi will always groan deep in his throat when he bottoms out for the first time and if you ride him, your hands braced on his chest as you drop down slowly - he full-on whimpers - broken voice, wobbly lip, the whole deal.

#delirious writes #kakashi smut #kakashi hatake #kakashi #kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #ask game #kakashi headcanons

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jessaerys · 1 year

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just read in one of you hashtags smth about your thesis being about the 'platonic lover theory'. colour me intrigued <.< could you maybe explain a bit what that entails or which books one should consult to get into the theory? or is it perhaps your own? thanks 😊

thank you the designation #platonic lover theory is my own invention but it’s meant to encapsulate something quite simple really: its when you are friends and chosen family and sometimes enemies but more often partners in crime, it’s when you say “we” and not “i” it's when the lines are so blurred they aren't even there anymore. you may be siblings (literally but most often symbolically) and mother/father/sister/brother/husband/wife /teacher/pupil messiah & worshipper to each other all at the same time though you can take turns depending on what's required of the situation. it’s recognition of the self through the other (holy) and recognition of the self through the other (derogatory). it's when whatever our souls are made of yours and mine are the same but mostly its whatever is deeply wrong with you is also deeply wrong with me. it’s when you are homebase in attachment theory it’s very importantly not exclusive: it’s about experiencing the world with other lovers but always returning to each other because of the bone deep security that u cannot be replaced. it's like when my friend's parents adopted a kitten from a litter and he was close to death and not thriving until they adopted his sister too and he miraculously got better and now all they do is fight. it’s when the feelings are so good u accidentally catch sexual desires but u are also kind of the same person so sex is more like masturbation really. it helps a lot if both of you are gay and opposite genders. hope this helps

#platonic lover theory #inbox.txt #brothercrush.txt

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n0t-a-p0et · 2 years

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Kanroji Mitsuri X afab reader

(Obanai is in here as well)

Warnings: some gay shit, polygamy, a bit of agnst, mommy kink, smut, bit of breeding kink

==================================

Muscular arms wrap around your torso as you try to wiggle away. Morning sun streaming in through a window brings life to your bones and makes them antsy to get up.

You open one dreary eye then the other. Glancing around the open space you find yourself in an all to familiar room decorated in pink. You had yet again fallen asleep in the arms of your best friend and crush, Kanroji Mitsuri.

Every time you move she snuggles you deeper into her plush chest. Which is covered only by a thin white shirt. Mornings like this always stir your stomach. It's so intimate the way Mitsuri grabs onto your waist and pulls you into her larger frame. The way a bit of drool slips past her lips as she snores peacefully.

You wish every morning could be like this. But no matter how many shooting stars you pleaded with, you knew it could never be. No matter how intimate Mitsuri became with you it wouldn't pass those barriers set for lovers. She would always just be your friend.

Mitsuri is just a very intimate person. Every lingering touch or shy smile is just platonic. Her caging you against her chest at night is just platonic. Besides she has a boyfriend. Iguro Obanai.

You and Obanai get a long quite well. You'd even consider him a good friend. A guilt sinks deep in your stomach every time you think about him finding out about your feelings for his girlfriend.

Finally Mitsuri peaks open her eyes. She let's you go and brings her arms above her head to stretch. You nearly faint as you see her toned stomach. You simply couldn't fathom why most men didn't like muscular girls.

"What if we stay in bed all day and cuddle?" Mitsuri mutters into your neck having turned back to face you. You wanted to say yes but you knew Obanai was staying in the guest room while you spent the night and you didn't want to alienate him in his own home.

"What about Obanai?" You ask eyes darting away from hers. You could never say no to her big green puppy eyes. Neither could Obanai. You suppose that's why they have so much pink in their home.

"What about me?" A short black haired figure asks from the doorway. Your eyes widen as Obanai trudges in wearing only a pair of silky trousers. Though he was small the man was built and scary. You'd never want to disrespect him, not only because he is your friend but because of how scary his scowel is.

You shrink in on yourself as he gets nearer. Mitsuri giggles poking at your sides.

"Don't scare them Obanai! Just tell them what we discussed." She smiles. Your insides flutter at her words. "What we discussed"? Your mind starts racing but before you can make any conclusions Obanai continues.

"You want my girlfriend" he states blantly the corners of his scarred mouth turning up into a smirk. Your heart stops and drops to your stomach. Were you really that obvious? Were your two closest friends going to kick you out?

"You want my girlfriend and my girlfriend wants you. And I, as your friend and as Mitsuri's boyfriend, want you both to be happy. Therefore I'm allowing you to date my girlfriend." Obanai's eyes shine with deviance and love as he looks over the both of you tangled in Mitsuri's sheets.

"Huh?" You're dumbfounded. Heart jumping out from the pit of your stomach and right into your throat. You look over at Mitsuri for some sort of comfort. She smiles, eyes closed. A truly big and happy smile.

"I'll allow you to date Mitsuri just as long as you don't mind sharing." Obanai smirks with a click of his tounge. You think it over. You love Mitsuri. You love her more than life itself. But Obanai is her boyfriend...and he wants to share her? The reason you and Obanai get along so well is because of how many things you have in common. Sharing a love for Mitsuri doesn't sound like a bad idea.

"What do you say love? Please say you'll have me! Even if that means sharing?" Big green eyes shine at you, on the verge of tears. You reach your hands to cup the pink haired woman's cheeks.

"Yes," you flash her a cheeky smile. In response, Mitsuri's muscular body toples over on top of you. Caging you to the floor as she giggles like a schoolgirl.

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

Two months have passed since the day you and Obanai agreed to share Mitsuri. You've even moved into their home and share their bed. Now when Mitsuri's arms are wrapped around your waste there is another pair wrapped around her's. As the three of you walk side by side, one arm drapes around your shoulder while her other takes hold of Obanai's hand.

Both are fiercely protective of you. If people in public stare at you for longer than she likes, Mitsuri will pull you in closer and nuzzle your head. Sometimes if she feels really devious she'll pull you into a passionate kiss. If anyone dares to flirt with you, Obanai threatens their life. He says it's just for Mitsuri's sake but you both know you've become quite fond of each other and wouldn't have the relationship any other way.

"Love? What do you think? A night just the two of us?" Mitsuri's dove song voice breaks you out of though. Her cheeks puff out after shoving an entire rice ball into her mouth. Her eyes crinkle into a smile as she chews the food you made her.

Obanai smirks at your lovestruck expression. You've gotten used to seeing him without his face wraps. His scarred mouth handsomely on display.

"Tsuri we've had plenty of nights just the two of us," you giggle. Your pink haired lover swallows her food before pouting.

"Yeah but today is our two month anniversary! I wanna make it really special" those pretty green eyes find their way to stare down into yours. You were never one to celebrate month anniversaries. Mitsuri is just full of love and can't help but celebrate being with her partners. Besides with the three of you being in the Demon Slayer Core and Hashira, tomorrow let alone a "one year" is never really guaranteed.

"A night spent with you is always special, so of course!" You beam at her. Soon enough Mitsuri has you trapped in another of her strong hugs. She has you falling back onto the tatami matt you were sitting on. The room around you is warm as your face flushes.

Obanai peers over the table at the both of you. He wholeheartedly laughs at his strong girlfriend crushing her other partner beneath her tall frame. You join in followed by Mitsuri. Her breath tickes your neck where she hides her face. You sigh feeling absolutely in love.

The day passes by fairly quick. Obanai and his snake counterpart leave to help a colleague on a mission. You and Mitsuri were going to train as usual but the black haired boy with a demon sister and his overzealous friends show up.

So the two of you agree to help them train for the day. The forementioned boy, Tanjiro listens thoroughly and makes sure to correctly follow through with your instructions. The boar headed boy, who was constantly being shouted at by the yellow boy, Inosuke tries his best. He's excited and very talented but he is almost filled with too much energy and keeps on unintentionally ignoring you.

After the hard day of training you and your girlfriend sit down for a nice dinner. Sadly joined by the three boys. You put drapes over all the windows so the little demon girl, Nezuko, could join as well.

Inosuke huffs down everything on his plate before moving onto the yellow haired boy's servings. Said boy, Zenitsu, screams and tries to push his attacker away. To no avail most of his food is stolen.

You giggle as Tanjiro tries his best to calm the two down. You remember back when you were a kid. Your siblings stealing off of your plate, your mother scolding them as your father chuckled at his spawns deviance. Then you remember the demon that tore your life apart.

Bringing your focus back to the three in front of you, your heart sinks. They are in fact children. Not the adult demon killing warriors they are forced to be. The children sitting at your dinner table should be living normal safe lives. But those affected by demons can never be safe or normal.

Mitsuri's squealish giggle shifts your focus to her and Nezuko beside you. Large hands tickle small feet and the little demon squeals burrowing deeper into Mitsuri's plush lap. Mitsuri would make a good mom. You think to yourself. And Obanai would make a good dad.

You'd like to believe that you'd make a good parent as well. You wonder how your two counterparts would feel about having children. Mitsuri most likely wouldn't be apposed to the idea, but would she want to take leave from her position to have a baby? You suppose you wouldn't mind taking time off. But perhaps babies is a conversation for a later time.

Soon enough the trio and demon are sent on their way and you clean up the kitchen. Mitsuri does her best to help but can't seem to stay on task as she excitedly recounts the days events. But you don't mind, hearing her voice pitch up in octave every time she gets really excited makes your belly flip.

Finally warms bodies fall onto the mattress in your shared bedroom. Mitsuri pulls you into her chest, nuzzling your hair. Tense muscles relax as you sink into her touch.

"I'm sorry we didn't get our evening alone." She mumbles. You sigh pulling away to look Mitsuri in the eyes. She smiles as you lean in capturing her lips in a soft kiss.

"It's okay, I enjoyed looking after those kids today," you say before moving your kisses to Mitsuri's neck. She sighs in pleasure, hands moving up from your waist and curling into your hair. You feel a slight ache deep in your core.

"You always have looked happy taking care of kids. And those eyes you gave me while I was playing with Nezuko at dinner! I think it'd be absolutely adorable if I saw you toteing around a kid of our own!" Mitsuri smirks with a slight tug to your hair. Eyes widening you tense. You hide deeper into your lovers neck and tighten your grip on her hips. She giggles placing one hand on the small of your back.

"Awwe! Does my love want mommy to give them a baby?" Her lips lower to your ear to whisper the last part. It makes goosebumps rise along your arms and you pull back to meet her eyes. Mitsuri's eyes are half lidded and glazed over with lust.

You nod your head bringing your hands up from her hips to drape over her shoulders. Your own widened eyes dropping back into relaxation as the need for Mitsuri's unclothed body against yours worsens. She places a warm kiss to your forehead while her long, delicate fingers work at the buttons of your uniform top.

Slowly your chest bindings are exposed to bright green eyes that can't seem to look away. Once your top is off, Mitsuri dips back down for a kiss to your lips. She gently nips your lower lip before pushing her soft tongue into your mouth. You moan at her sweet taste.

Having you distracted Mitsuri swiftly breaks through your bindings letting your breasts fall into view. You gasp feeling the new cold air. She pulls back to gaze at your bare torso. You'd seen each other naked plenty of times before but this was different. You weren't changing clothes or bathing, you were naked for her and her alone.

Eager to see the pink haired beauty's body your fingers attack the strained buttons of Mitsuri's uniform top. She giggles while stroking your hair. You fumble with the last button before tossing the discarded clothing to a corner of the room.

As soon as her big flushed chest is revealed to you, you make quick work to worship her mounds. Lips parting to suck her left breast while one hand reaches to fondle the other. Mitsuri let's out a high pitched moan that makes your stomach flip. You'd do anything to hear such a heavenly sound again.

Feeling much too eager, Mitsuri pulls you away from her chest to undress both of your bottoms. Breathing heavy you look into each other's eyes. You are dangerously in love with the bare woman in front of you. Her every curve being etched into your brain.

"You wanna eat mommy's pussy?" Mitsuri smiles after a heated peck to your lips. You whine at her words and nod your head. Calloused hands push you onto your back. Gaint muscular thighs move to straddle your head. Mitsuri's green doe eyes stare down at you. Her pussy positioned directly above your mouth.

Salvating you grab onto her thighs to pull her down to your tongue. Mitsuri squeaks with glee. The first long lick you bring up her slit makes her shudder and toes curl. Your lover strokes your hair encouraging you to continue.

You start out slow, wet muscle barely pushing past Mitsuri's entrance. But Mitsuri is impatient and begins to grind down onto your face. So you begin to push past her tight ring as she fucks herself onto your tongue.

She tastes sweet like fresh fruit with a slightly bitter aftertaste. Mitsuri is addicting, keeping you searching her folds for more. Your hands find purchase gripping onto Mitsuri's supple hips. Fingernails leaving small crescents on her tanned skin. Her fluffy pink pubic hairs tickle at your face making you giggle into her folds. The vibration elicts a gentle moan from above.

"So good for mommy," Mitsuri purrs your praise, "My y/n is so good to meee". You feel her grind harder onto your face, your nose catching perfectly on her clit. Mitsuri is close, her moans becoming higher in pitch tipping you off. You work your tounge faster against her velvet walls aching to taste her release.

With one final flick of your tounge, Mitsuri falls off the edge into her orgasm. A high pitched whine escapes her throat as she cums all over the lower half of your face. Eagerly you lick every drop up before she's pulling you up into a passionate kiss. Your naked bodies press together as arms tangle around each other in search of warmth.

"You did so well my love!" Mitsuri beams pulling away for air. Moonlight shining in from the window glistens off her body making your lover look ethereal. "Now it's your turn, let mommy make you feel good" she smirks before pushing you back down.

This time instead of straddling you she parts your legs and bends them at the knee before throwing them over her shoulders. Mitsuri lines her pretty lips up with your folds. She places a kiss on them before giving you a wink. Suddenly you feel a long slender finger slide through your folds gathering your slick.

"Tsuriii" you mewl lifting your head up to peer at the devious creature between your thighs. She smirks before slipping her middle finger into you. It's a slight stretch that makes you huff. Mitsuri's fingers are much larger and longer than your own.

Mitsuri licks her lips once she's in knuckle deep. Your tight walls hugging her finger nicely. Slowly she begins to pump inside your pussy, the rough pads of her finger massaging your insides perfectly. With pleasure growing in your core you instinctively entwine your hand with Mitsuri's free one.

Again green eyes are trained on your form. Heat rises to your face at the build up of pressure inside of you. Suddenly without warning, Mitsuri slips her ring finger in. Scissoring motions follow suit causing you to whine out.

"Oh my love is so pretty all fucked out for me," Mitsuri swoons at your writhing form. She works her fingers harder pressing right into your soft spot. You moan loudly. Just when everything starts to become too much, your lover latches her lips onto your clit.

Your hands flies to grip pink locks as you cry out. The hand holding yours tightens giving you more ground to hold onto. Everything starts to feel more and more heavy before the coil in your stomach snaps. Crying out Mitsuri's name as you orgasm.

Mitsuri licks you clean while still slowly pumping her fingers. She works you through your high and almost into overstimulation before you whine for her to kiss you. Lovingly she brings her face to yours and presses soft kisses all over your face. Each one a blessing from the gods.

Basking in the afterglow of sex, you are pulled into a tight cuddle. Tired you giggle into Mitsuri's warm skin and murmer an "I love you".

"I love you too y/n" Mitsuri smiles snuggling her face into the top of your head. "Obanai loves you too," she continues, "I know right now isn't the best time but someday in the future the three of us will make a family of our own. With lots of babies!" You giggle at her enthusiasm.

Looking back on the past two months, you decide that not only are you in love with Mitsuri but perhaps you are in love with Obanai as well. Smiling you dose off between strong muscular arms knowing that you wouldn't change a damn thing.

#demon slayer smut #kny smut #demon slayer mitsuri #mitsuri smut #demon slayer obanai

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