#submitted stim of the day

[holybibly]

okay hear me out!! little bunny goes to take a shower ok? one of the pups wants to go with her. she would be more skeptical if it was san or mingi or woo, but its just yeosang. he wouldn't try to play with her, right?

wrong! like you said with other senders, yeo is secretly a hard dom. sorry not sorry yall!

so yeah, he pins her to the wall and stims her clit with the showerhead (at the highest pressure, of course) until she cries and stuffs. have fun with that part my brain is #mush

bye bye love ya 💋🎀

Hard dom Yeosang, mmm...

I told you I'm in love with this concept, didn't I? I hope this makes you as dishevelled and nervous as I am when I think about it. Sorry, not sorry; today I want to make you squirm.

"Enjoying yourself, bunny?" Yeosang purrs in a low voice and pulls you closer to him until you're pressed up against his bare chest. It's hot in the shower, but Yeosang's skin seems to be on fire, burning you and making you melt away.

"I-I, yes, a little; it's nice here." You mumble as you feel his lips press against your shoulder and slide up until they leave a kiss on the crimson imprint of Seonghwa's and Hongjoong's teeth, which are still unable to heal from the constant torment of two alphas. If Seonghwa's gorgeous mouth doesn't suck on that sensitive spot at least once a day, the Alpha will go into hysterics, and as far as Hongjoong is concerned, it's a hundred times worse. His lips are on your neck 24/7, and there is no discussion about it.   Yeosang can hardly wait for the day he can sink his fangs into you, too; he licks the sore spot lightly. His hands slide down your sides and come to rest on your hips, his thumbs slowly and emphatically massaging the soft skin.

The black-haired Alpha turns you around to face him, his icy grey eyes piercing you in an instant, holding you in place and making you submit to him. Yeosang is usually quiet, a little distant, and taciturn, but that's not like that when he's alone with you. Like all wolves, Yeosang has a dark, animalistic side to him, and he will never miss an opportunity to show it off to you.

Despite how warm and stuffy it is in the shower, you start to shiver as he leans down to brush his tongue across your lips. There is a low growl from him, and you obey instantly, opening your lips to him.

Cautiously, greedily, he traces the contours of your mouth as if it were uncharted territory, and every lazy move he makes makes you press closer to him, your hands clinging tentatively to his shoulders. It's only when the need for air becomes critical and you start falling apart, your chest heaving rapidly, that you begin to whimper. You try to press yourself closer to his sculpted body. The mucus leaking from you makes your pussy slippery and wet.

"Alpha, please..." You gasp, your heart pounding erratically in your chest.

He gives you a wicked smile and bites your lower lip, making you squeal at the sharp sting of his fangs. His hands slide down to the luxurious curve of your ass, squeezing it hard as he begins to plant rough kisses along the side of your jaw, working their way down to the pillar of your throat. Your head falls back against the tiled wall as he bites down hard on a particularly sensitive spot close to your collarbone, and a moment later his tongue darts out to lick the small drops of blood from the bruised skin. The sensation makes you moan loudly and for a long time, and Yeosang purrs contentedly.

Then he moves lower down to your heavy, luscious breasts, his hot mouth curling around the hard tip of one of your nipples as his hand slides up your belly until his fingers curl around the other. Your back arched under his caresses, your fingers scratching along his back. The low, dark chuckle emanating from his chest sent a delicious shiver down your spine. Oh, my God, Alpha...

The fact that the wolves are addicted to your milk and constantly abuse your breasts is something you still can't get used to. They are always biting, sucking, licking, and drinking, and they still cannot get enough. Your tits have become even more sensitive than they were before, under the constant care of the wolves. It doesn't even have to be anything sexual; all they have to do is keep your nipples in their mouths.

Wooyoung and San recently cornered you just to torment you all night long by sucking on your tits and playing with your nipples. It was a maddening experience. You came so many times you couldn't even count, and they didn't even fuck you properly.

You whimper at the loss of contact and watch the corner of his mouth curl into a grin as Yeosang's mouth pulls away from your chest. Tiny drops of milk glisten on his wet, red lips, and he immediately licks them off, humming in appreciation of the taste.

"Turn your back to me, bunny." He orders in a low voice, and the dark promise in his tone of voice makes you obey with all your might.

The anticipation of what he will do next is simply unbearable. It literally drives you crazy, making you tremble and cower, never knowing what path he will take.

Yeosang stands behind you, silent and motionless, and you dare not look at him, instead staring at the black tiled wall, watching the water trickle down. You can taste Yeosang—leather and powder—in the steam that comes out of the water.

You vaguely hear him fiddling with something. Your ears twitch, hoping to recognise the sound, but the sound of running water makes it difficult. Your thighs rub against each other in an attempt to relieve the aching tension between your legs.

"Alpha, I… Oh!" Your voice changes to a surprised squeal as he suddenly pushes something between your legs—something that you recognise as a silver shower head. The metal in it makes a delightfully cool contrast to the warmth of the water and the heat of your skin.

As Yeosang presses the shower head against your clit, your knees almost buckle and your pussy squirts mucus with an even smoother, more powerful squirt. Only his strong arm, wrapped around your waist, keeps you on your feet, pressing your back against his chest as his teeth nibble gently at the lobe of your ear.

"It's time for a new experience, baby. I promise you're going to feel good."

It is hard for you to think straight. The water is massaging your clit in slippery circles, splashing and spraying over your thighs as they shake with the tension. It takes all your strength and concentration to force yourself to answer, your voice high and shrill.

"Oh, my God. Ewww, Alpha! It's so good."

His answering chuckle, husky and sultry, sends a bolt of lightning straight to the heart of your body.

"Look at you, all wet and beautiful and desperate for me." His hips are pressing up against your ass, and you can feel how hard his cock is and how ready it is for you. It's thick, veiny, and long, perfect for fucking your tender little bunny body.

You let out a whimper as he moved the nozzle, and now the stream of water is right on top of your clit, intense and merciless. It is at this point that you start to breathe out his name, your chest heaving in a desperate attempt to get more air into your lungs. The pressure is too much, too much for you, who've never done this before. You feel like you're teetering dangerously close to the edge, the coil in your stomach wound as tight as it can be without breaking. You are so, so close to cum.

And then Yeosang pulls away, the shower head disappearing between your trembling thighs and taking your orgasm with it. The pleasure that was about to wash over you in a wave of ecstasy is painfully slow to return to your veins. You're practically crying at the loss of this sensation. Tears well up in your eyes, but you know there's nothing you can do about it. If they want to play rough with you, they will drag out the pleasure for hours on end. One time, Seonghwa didn't let you cum all night long until you passed out from the overstimulation.

Yeosang loosens his grip on your waist and gives you a kiss between your shoulder blades. His hand slides up your belly, thumb-stroking your swollen nipples, wet with water and milk, and continues until his long fingers wrap around your throat.

Yeosang's hand tightens around your neck, effectively blocking your airway; your eyes roll back; and your legs shake from the overload of sensations.

"How's that, sweetie? Does your Sangie make you feel good? Tell me, sweetheart, do mommy and daddy play with you like I do?" His voice is dark and hoarse, and there is a hint of arrogance in it that you can hear. He wraps the fingers of his other hand around your sensitive nipple and twists it. You have the urge to squeal, but the grip on your throat prevents any sound from escaping.

His soft lips leave the softest kisses on your shoulders in contrast to the rough touches of your body and the suffocating grip on your throat. The tenderness with which he kisses and honours your skin is almost enough to lull you to sleep, make your head fall back on his chest, and let you lose yourself in your little subspace of desire.

You don't immediately realise what's happening when the sound of running water suddenly gets louder. It's only when his claws start to slide down your spine, scratching at every ridge before they grasp your thigh roughly, that you realise what he's up to. A moment later, the water is hitting you; the shower head is pressing down on your legs, enveloping your already sensitive clit in a swirling whirlpool of heat and moisture. You wheeze, gasping for breath, and Yeosang moans long, excited and thirsty from what you've done.

"Damn, you're so hot, bunny." He moans and presses his mouth close to your ear. "I'm never going to get tired of playing with you; I'm going to torture you and fuck you every fucking day."

As he pushes the nozzle deeper into your pussy you writhe in his arms, your whole body shaking. He suddenly lets go of your throat, only to wrap his hand around your waist and pull you closer to him, his thick cock sliding between the cheeks of your plump ass.

His lips curl up in a wicked smile against the back of your neck.

It's almost frightening how dishevelled you are. The heat coils in your abdomen, dark and intense, yearning for release.

"P-please, please, Yeosang..." You whimper almost incoherently, squirming in his iron grip in a desperate attempt to increase the friction.

Yeosang laughs maliciously at your futile attempts.

"I need a little bit more from you, baby." His voice gets deeper and deeper, sounding almost animalistic and incredibly seductive. He pushes his hips into your ass, the hot length sliding perfectly between your buttocks, staining the space with a mixture of your mucus and his pre-cum. The base of his knot can already be felt, and you know what it is that he wants to hear from you.

"I want your alpha knot; I want you to tie me; I want you to make me your bitch." The words come out of you in the most natural way possible, as if this is what you were born to do. You have repeated them so many times that it is as if they have been imprinted on your tongue.

As the knot in your stomach tightens as your orgasm builds, desperation seeps into your tone.

"Alpha, please, I am going to be the best bunny for you. I want your knot so badly."

"Then you can cum, my little bunny. Show me what a good girl you are." Yeosang growls as the hand on your waist slides up and begins to knead your breasts roughly. Your tits are so swollen with milk that they can barely fit in the palm of his hand. The added sensation sends you over the edge with a deafening scream, your cunt clenching around nothing as you squirm weakly in his firm grip, feeling completely boneless.

It takes a few long seconds for the rush of pleasure to wear off. Yeosang gently strokes between your velour ears and plants hot kisses on your neck and shoulders as you come to your senses.

"The Alpha wants to tear you apart and breed you such a beautiful and obedient bunny. You are all mine, so juicy and sweet. Do you think you can take my knot right now, baby?"

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez x reader #yeosang smut #ateez fanfic #kang yeosang smut

[la-la-lavandee]

Lavandee's Stimboard Ask Game

Here's how it works! By reblogging this post you welcome your friends and followers to submit numbered prompts to your inbox which you can then use as inspiration for a themed stimboard or gifset!

1. An obscure favourite character

2. Your first OTP

3. Your strangest kin

4. Your favourite colour

5. Your favourite song

6. Your favourite band

7. Your favourite Pokemon

8. An obscure hyperfixation

9. Your favourite food

10. A recurring dream

11. A childhood memory

12. A plush from your childhood or the current day

13. An old OC of yours

14. The first anime you ever watched

15. What you last ate

16. A song from your childhood

17. A character who's birthday you share

18. A hobby you enjoy

19. Your biggest fictional crush

20. A series you plan on getting into

21. A game you never finished

22. A series you have a love/hate relationship with

23. Gifs from your favourite stim blog

24. An interesting moment in history

25. An old hyperfixation or special interest

26. The AMV in your head

27. A defunct website you used to frequent

28. A fandom you're not in that looks like fun

29. An instrument you can (or wish you could) play

30. Create a crack ship!

31. Your zodiac

32. The decade you were born in

33. An overplayed song you unironically love

34. A remake/remix/reboot that's better than the original

35. A meme that makes you laugh

36. Your favourite animal

37. Your favourite sport or game

38. Your favourite holiday

39. Your current OTP

40. WILD CARD! Asker, send in a character that the stim blogger reminds you of. Blogger, make a stimboard of them!

#ask #ask game #reblog bait #ask meme #inbox memes #not stim #lavandee dialogue #prompts

[brostateexam]

A.B.A. is the only autism intervention that is approved by insurers and Medicaid in all fifty states. The practice is widely recommended for autistic kids who exhibit dangerous behaviors, such as self-injury or aggression toward others, or who need to acquire basic skills, such as dressing themselves or going to the bathroom. The mother of a boy with severe autism in New York City told me that her son’s current goals in A.B.A. include tolerating the shower for incrementally longer intervals, redirecting the urge to pull on other people’s hair, and using a speech tablet to say no. Another kid might be working on more complex language skills by drilling with flash cards or honing his ability to focus on academic work. Often, A.B.A. targets autistic traits that may be socially stigmatizing but are harmless unto themselves, such as fidgeting, avoiding eye contact, or stereotypic behaviors commonly known as stimming—rocking, hand-flapping, and so forth.

Hammond is now the mother of two autistic sons. Her older son, Aidan, who is sixteen, is nonverbal and needs round-the-clock care. When he was young, he attended a traditional school, but teachers, Hammond said, “were literally calling me every single day: ‘Can you please come here and sit with him? Can you please pick him up?’ ” Hammond tried physical, occupational, and speech-language therapy for Aidan, but he was “kicked out of every single one,” she said. Therapists “felt that his behaviors were interfering with his learning, and that he needed to be in A.B.A.” A.B.A. clinicians, she added, “were at least willing to look at my son.”

She drove him to A.B.A. appointments at a clinic about an hour from their home in southwest Texas, but stopped treatment after just a few sessions. This was partly due to the commute and the co-pay, but also to a discomfort with the approach, which required Aidan to spend long periods, over multiple sessions, solving a puzzle in which he matched shapes to the right-sized holes. “He’s having to do this over and over and over again,” Hammond recalled, “and, when he picked the right thing, it’s, like, Ooh, here’s a Skittle! Like he’s a puppy.”

In recent years, A.B.A. has come under increasingly vehement criticism from members of the neurodiversity movement, who believe that it cruelly pathologizes autistic behavior. They say that its rewards for compliance are dehumanizing; some compare A.B.A. to conversion therapy. Social-media posts condemning the practice often carry the hashtag #ABAIsAbuse. The message that A.B.A. sends is that “your instinctual way of being is incorrect,” Zoe Gross, the director of advocacy at the nonprofit Autistic Self Advocacy Network, told me. “The goals of A.B.A. therapy—from its inception, but still through today—tend to focus on teaching autistic people to behave like non-autistic people.” But others say this criticism obscures the good work that A.B.A. can do. Alicia Allgood, a board-certified behavior analyst who co-runs an A.B.A. agency in New York City, and who is herself autistic, told me, “The autistic community is up in arms. There is a very vocal part of the autistic population that is saying that A.B.A. is harmful or aversive or has potentially caused trauma.”

Until recently, the American Medical Association officially endorsed “evidence-based treatment of Autism Spectrum Disorder including, but not limited to, Applied Behavior Analysis Therapy.” Last summer, the medical students’ body of the association proposed that the organization withdraw its support for A.B.A., citing objections by autistic self-advocates. The association did not adopt the resolution as submitted, but its house of delegates eventually approved an amendment removing any explicit reference to A.B.A., and autistic activists spread the word that A.B.A. no longer appeared to have the outright endorsement of the nation’s largest medical society.

#long reads #*ableism

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Hydra Sanatorium"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word count: 4608

Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, enemas, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30s), omorashi

Summary: Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty. Steve's the care worker who's been developing too much of an attachment.

Wait! I think I missed a previous chapter! Series Masterlist

Chapter 9: Persistent Genital Arousal

Previously:

This may be (and hopefully is) Bucky's last day as a Hydra patient, but that doesn't mean he won't have some group classes and therapies left to attend with the other boys in his cohort that afternoon and evening. Steve will just have to find a way to fill his own time, leave Bucky to his schedule, and hang in there while he gets the ball rolling to secure Bucky's release into his custody.

That afternoon, Steve completes a plethora of paperwork. He submits his recommendation for Bucky’s care, fills out a formal application for custody, and hands in his letter of resignation to Raynor.

He’s completely transparent with her about his intentions, and Christina isn’t just fair in her response: she seems downright pleased. She does call him a traitor for leaving Hydra, but she’s smirking when she says it, so Steve knows he’ll still be getting a stellar reference from her.

He is officially quitting, but Bucky’s still a patient on-ward—with all the services afforded one—for at least the next twenty-four hours. So to avoid interrupting his scheduled therapies and groups, Steve tries to keep himself busy, closing out his cases and saying goodbye to some of his more friendly coworkers. Hydra Sanatorium might not be the nicest or the most well-funded place, but for a county-run institution it’s always done the best it can with what it has for the people who come through its halls. Lord knows Steve has. After five years of working there, doing his best to help the people that he could, Steve hopes he made some sort of a difference. In one case, at least, he knows he has.

Later in the day, he goes looking for Bucky and finds him with the rest of his cohort in the soft room. A lot of the boys are napping, the rest of them engaged in various stimming activities. Steve doesn’t immediately spot Bucky, but the room attendant points him towards one of the nesting pods. When Steve pokes his head through the little circular opening into the cave-like space, sure enough there his boy is: nestled amongst an impressive collection of blankets, throws and pillows.

Inside it smells heavenly, Bucky’s scent built up in the air. All sexually mature omegas experience something called persistent genital arousal, or PGA. It can be more debilitating for some, and it’s definitely more intense at certain points of their cycles, but in general Steve’s heard it described as a low-level thrum of arousal—like what one might feel from touching themselves idly from over their underwear while watching mediocre porn. Essentially, omegas really do always have sex on the brain.

The resultant smell they give off is, of course, one easy identifying marker for any omega out in public, and Bucky is no exception. The nesting pod is already thick with his scent, sweet and cloying, and Steve finds himself breathing in deeply to get more of it as he crawls inside. He smiles when Bucky’s sleepy eyes peek open and register his presence. The boy is beautiful. “Hey,” Steve murmurs.

Bucky lets loose a huge yawn and stretches with a lazy smile, his hair all floofed in different directions and his eyes nothing but puffy, squinty slits. “Stteeeve,” he hums, reaching for him with grabby hands. “Mmm. C’mere.”

How could he ever resist? Steve crawls over and settles next to him, pulling their bodies close together. “Hey you.”

Bucky’s already purring as he wriggles up against him. “Mmm. Hi.” He shoves his face into Steve’s chest and rubs his cheek against his pec, scenting him. “I took’a nap.”

“I can see that.” Steve’s mood is already in the stratosphere, because he’s suffused with Bucky’s scent: happy, safe, content—and yes, mildly aroused—omega. It’s infectious, making Steve’s body respond with all of those same feelings and more. There’s nowhere he’d rather be than right here, tucked into a tiny, warm nesting space with his omega. 

“His” omega, because Steve’s already started thinking of him that way. The transition feels almost seamless, feels natural, like maybe Bucky was his long before he knew it. He rumbles in his chest to match the boy’s purr and holds him close. “Missed you,” he murmurs, speaking against the softness of his hair. “How’s your day been?”

They’ve only been apart for a few hours, but after the intensity of their morning together, Steve hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Bucky’s wellbeing all day, even though he knows he’d left him in a good place, mentally. He’d made sure to bring him down from the high of their sensory session, had tenderly changed him and dressed him in warm, soft clothes, checked that his body’s lingering confusion from the therapy wasn’t anything that was going to cause him discomfort or distress during the day. He’d personally escorted him to his life skills group, kissing him on the cheek and promising to find him later, even watching from the doorway for a few long minutes until he could be certain that Bucky was relaxed and taking to the company of others well.

Now, in the safe confines of the nest, Steve kisses his hair again. “Good?”

Bucky does a happy little wiggle. “Mmm, good,” he mumbles, still seeking contact through the way he rubs himself against Steve’s body. “Missed you.”

It’s like he can’t get close enough, like he’s stubbornly trying to dig himself a space inside of Steve. It’s adorable. Steve smiles and rubs his back. “Me too, Honey. I’ve been getting a lot of things sorted out, so that I can take care of you after today. If you want.”

Bucky peeks up at him. “‘If I want?’”

“Yeah.” He knows that this is a talk they need to have, now that Bucky’s sober and fully back in his head. Steve doesn’t think there’s a high chance that Bucky’s going to change his mind, but they still have to discuss it. Because Steve would be a bad person—and a garbage Alpha support—if he didn’t give him the chance to decide for himself now.

And he’s going to have to tell Bucky about the castration issue. As much as Steve hates it, he can’t deny the sheer medical facts. It’ll help Bucky. His body produces too much testosterone as it is, his testes given too much time to develop before he finally presented. They’ve always known that the elevated hormones are part of what contributes to Bucky’s aggression and his struggles. Steve takes a deep breath and forces composure into his voice. “So, my boss asked me to put in my recommendation for you.”

“Recommendation for what?”

“Um, since your folks signed over custody, the state is in charge of you now until you turn twenty-five. That is, unless you find an alpha guardian to take care of you in a personal capacity. But you know, Hydra isn’t really … it’s more of an acute care facility, right? So even if you didn’t have an Alpha, you’d still have to go somewhere else, like a group home or a treatment facility that’s geared toward longer term stays. My boss asked me to submit my assessment of what your needs are and where you should go. It’s called an ongoing care plan.”

In his arms, Bucky tenses up. “My ongoing care?” he repeats, uncertain.

“Yeah Honey.” Steve tries to smile reassuringly. “There are lots of places where you could go to live other than with me, if you wanted. Nice places.”

Bucky’s face crumples in distress and he keens lowly. “But I … I mean, I thought …” His lip trembles. “You changed your mind? Don’t you want me?”

“What?” Steve’s heart sinks at the way Bucky’s looking at him—as if he’s just revoked a promise Bucky had been counting on. “Oh, Honey,” he mourns, pulling him in close again. He cradles his head and kisses over his hair in apology. “No, no bub. I do want you. I was just trying to be fair and give you all of your options. I didn’t want you to feel obligated. Didn’t want you to feel like you had to make that choice to go with me.”

It’s immediately obvious that his words calm Bucky down. The scent of distress dissipates as quickly as it had formed, and their dimly lit nesting pod is once again filled with nothing but cozy, happy omega pheromones. Bucky butts his head into Steve’s chest and grumbles at him for having scared him. “I always want to go with you, Steve. I don’t want to go anywhere else.”

Steve strokes his back. “Okay, okay. I understand.” His hands dip under the soft fabric of Bucky’s top, tracing up the vertebrae of his spine. It feels good to have the connection of their naked skin again. Steve hums and flushes, aware of his cock having a vague but growing interest. It’s all chubbed up in his briefs, tingling with a low level of arousal. And even though he has little intention of doing anything about it right now, it’s still nice to feel when he’s close to Bucky like this. He turns in towards him a little more, pressing him back and down into the nest with his bodyweight. The boy’s legs part for him on instinct and Steve hums, pleased. He slots his thigh between Bucky’s legs and tucks his face into his neck. “I just want to make you happy, Buck,” he murmurs. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, or like you have to do anything other than what you really want. And if it takes you time to figure that out, then you’re allowed to take your time.”

“Nooo, Steeeve. I want you to be my Alpha. I don’t need to take time. S’stupid.”

Steve scoffs fondly. “Oh yeah?” He searches out the slight swell of Bucky’s bonding glands beneath the skin, closes his lips over the spot, and sucks. Bucky gives a surprised little ‘meep!’ of a sound, then pretty much melts full-body into the blankets. Steve chuckles. “There’s a lot that comes with that, you know. Having an Alpha you’re bonded to is different than just what we do here.”

“Mmm. Yeah. Like you said before, in the bathroom when my tummy was full. You said you could be my for-real Alpha.”

Steve kisses where he’d sucked, the spot now pinked and swollen. “Do you know what that means?” he whispers. “To have a for-real Alpha?” Bucky shivers pleasantly in response to the question, but Steve’s not just asking to get him worked up over it. “Buck,” he prods gently. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Means you’d be in charge a’ me,” Bucky sighs, his scent shifting as he grows more aroused. Beneath Steve, he squirms purposefully against the weight of his body. “I’d live with you, right?”

“Yeah. You’d come live with me and I’d be in charge of you.” Steve nuzzles against him, not missing the way that Bucky’s breath catches in a tiny little sound of pleasure. “Hey now, you might not always like that.” He playfully nips his skin. “There might be times when you’re mad as a hornet at me. That won't change anything. I’ll still be your Alpha. You’ll still have to listen.”

“... Could I still call you Daddy?”

Steve groans and turns his face away from Bucky's neck while the omega giggles at his reaction. “Yeah, Buck. You could.”

“Mmm, and you’ll still call me bub?” he asks, looking up with shining eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. “I um … I kinda always liked that you called me that. Even back when I was new and mean to you and stuff.”

Steve smiles tenderly at him. “I know, bub. That’s why I always did.” He kisses him softly, just once, on the lips. The first time he’s ever let himself do so.

Bucky’s wide-eyed by the time Steve pulls back, looking like a whole new world of possibilities has just been opened up to him. “Oh, man,” he breathes. “Do we get to have sex whenever we want?”

Steve laughs, taken aback. “Buck,” he scolds, but he’s already dipping back down to kiss him again. “Yes. Though I do have to keep a day job, so you can’t go full-on nymphomaniac on me.” Bucky whines and Steve kisses back down to his neck and seals his lips over his tender glands to suck some more. “Mmm, you’re swollen here, Honey,” he murmurs, kissing the spot, thinking that he’ll have to check the kid’s chart to see if he’s nearing estrus. It’d make sense, given how reactive he’s been lately. And, oh god, they’ll definitely need birth control. Steve would love to breed Bucky up, but that’s not something they should take lightly. It’s too soon to pup him, not when so much else is in flux, and Steve still needs to tackle the castration issue with him. There’s a lot to be done. Everything is changing. Steve sucks hard on his glands in one, long pull.

“Oohh,” Bucky moans, both hands coming up to run through Steve’s hair. “Oh, S-steve. Mmm. That feels so good.” He hitches his leg up higher on Steve’s hip, rocking against him, and Steve indulges him by driving his thigh forward to give him more firmness to grind on. Bucky whimpers and jerks. “Oh!”

“Mm hm.” Steve gently scrapes his teeth over the swollen spot on his neck. “I’ll need to bond you, if you’re living in my household long term.”

Bucky whimpers and nods, hips shoving up harder at the feeling of the alpha’s mouth on his glands. “Okay,” he gasps. “Yeah, Steve, do it. I'm ready.” His fingers dig into Steve’s shoulders and he cranes his head further to the side, presenting himself for a bite.

Steve chuckles, the sound morphing into a groan at the end as he denies himself and moves his face away. “Mmm. Not right now, silly. You need to be in heat for that to stick.” He gives him a peck on the lips. “Besides, it’s supposed to be something special.”

“Special?”

“Mm hm.” It kind of breaks Steve’s heart that Bucky doesn’t know this, though he supposes the kid couldn’t possibly have had many positive exposures to A/o relationships, growing up with the family he did. Steve kisses him again, explaining, “We’ll make it nice. Relaxing. Bonding is something special we’ll do in private.” They may currently be sequestered in this dark little space, but Steve sure doesn’t count a communal nesting pod in a state-run Sanatorium to be the appropriate place for such an important, intimate act.

He crawls off of Bucky and moves over to the side, sitting up in the mounds of soft nesting materials with his back against the pod’s wall. “C’mere.”

Bucky happily crawls over to sit in his lap. He straddles him, and Steve’s hands settle at his hips. Steve smiles at the bright teal clothes the kid is wearing now. After their sensory session that morning, he’d helped Bucky to get changed, and teal pants with a tangerine top was what the omega had wanted to wear. “All these years of navy blue,” Steve teases. “And it was just you being stubborn, huh?”

Bucky huffs and squirms, but he doesn’t deny it. “I always liked the colorful ones. I just never picked ‘em because I … I didn’t want to be this way,” he admits softly, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Didn’t want to be just another omega. Dumb and drooling in my rainbow patterned sweatsuits.”

“Bucky,” Steve chides. “That’s not nice. The other boys on-ward don’t deserve that kind of talk, do they? ”

Bucky flushes and looks away. “No,” he mumbles. “M’sorry. Didn’t mean it.”

Steve sighs. Just because Bucky wants to be with him doesn’t mean that the kid’s suddenly going to be well-adjusted. He's got so much internalized omegaphobia from being raised by his asshole parents, it isn't even funny. Steve gives his waist a squeeze and tells him, “Hey: you’re still going to have to go to some therapy, bub. I hope you realize that. Just because you’re leaving here doesn’t mean there won’t be rules and discipline. It doesn’t mean you don’t still have issues you need to work on.”

Bucky grumps about that a little, but eventually he nods his head in understanding. “What rules?” he asks shyly. “‘Discipline’?”

“Mmhm. That mean consequences if you act up. I’ll never be harsh with you, Honey, but being someone’s Alpha also means correcting their misbehavior.”

“Like … like spanking?”

“It could be, yeah.” Steve personally believes in gentle domestic discipline for omegas, so long as it’s administered fairly. He watches Bucky’s reaction carefully. “How does that make you feel, hm? If you knew you might get spanked if you did wrong?”

Bucky squirms a little in his lap before he’ll admit, “I dunno. Maybe embarrassed but … kinda nice, too.”

Steve tilts his head to try and catch Bucky’s eyes. “Nice?” he prods.

“Yeah. Kinda.” Bucky pouts and shrugs. “I dunno. I guess it just, um … it makes it seem like you care about me. Like you’re enjoying takin’ care of me.”

Steve’s heart warms, and he kisses Bucky’s forehead. “I do, baby. I care about you a whole lot, okay?”

“Okay.” Bucky sits there thinking it over, sucking his lip into his mouth and releasing it repeatedly. “What are the rules gonna be?”

“Oh, well … I don't know them all yet, but we'll figure it out. Just be good in general, I guess. Don’t make messes, don’t be rude to people, listen to what I tell you to do. That sort of stuff. My place is in Flatbush, not too far from here. You’ll have to be good, stay there when I go to work. I’m looking at changing jobs, so we might have some time together to start off at first, but then you’ll need to mind yourself when I’m away.”

"I'll be good," Bucky promises, sounding adorably determined. It makes Steve smile.

"I know, bub." He strokes the side of Bucky’s head, running his fingers through the soft curls that he’s come to love so much. “We’ll make you an area in the apartment to nest up real nice, just the way you like it. And I can get some stimming tools if you need ‘em, for during the day. I don’t want to see you ignoring your needs like you have been.” At Bucky’s hips, he digs his fingers in meaningfully, crinkling the plastic of the diaper beneath. “And these,” he says, arching a knowing eyebrow when Bucky peeks up at him. “You still need to wear them.”

Bucky looks mortified, but he does eventually give a reluctant nod. “I know,” he grumbles. “I wasn’t gonna argue about it.”

“Oh really?”

“Mm mn.” He’s blushing and avoidant, bites his lip and tries to wiggle away, but stills when Steve holds fast. He sighs. “I mean I guess I don’t hate ‘em so much.”

“No?”

“Mmn. Not … not when it’s just in private,” he admits. “Sometimes they even make me feel kinda, I dunno, kinda safe. … And when you take care of me with ‘em. That part feels really good.”

Jesus. Steve grips him harder and rumbles deep in his chest, praising him for his honesty. “That’s good, Honey. That’s what they’re for.”

Bucky’s physical level of need for the diapers isn’t actually all that high. He has the same small, spastic bladder that most omegas do, and he suffers from the typical pattern of stress incontinence. Most of his wetting occurs when he’s upset, aroused, or asleep. He could feasibly attempt daily life without them, though accidents would happen. But beyond the practical, it’s the emotional impact of wetting that’s so huge for someone like Bucky. That’s why consistent diapering has always been part of his therapeutic program at Hydra. It’s one routine that Steve intends to maintain once he’s got Bucky home and living with him. “It’s nothing to be worried over,” he reminds gently. “Remember what we talked about?”

Bucky sniffles and nods. “... S’normal,” he recites, voice tiny. “Lots of omegas wear ‘em.”

“That’s right,” Steve praises. “And Alphas don’t care. We like taking care of you. We like seeing you feeling safe, and knowing when it feels good for you.” He sees the color rise in Bucky’s cheeks and hums knowingly. “It’s okay when you enjoy the feeling, bub. Like how you did this morning? That’s totally okay.” Bucky whines and squirms a little, and Steve shushes him. “Hey now: I mean it.”

He uses his grip on Bucky’s hips to rock him in his lap a little, and Bucky squeaks and grabs onto his shoulders, pushing into the motion reactively before he can shame himself out of it. Steve hums, pleased. He leans in and takes Bucky's mouth in another, coaxing kiss. That seems to be the key to disarming the boy. He moans and gives another uninhibited roll of his hips. He keeps going, grinding against Steve’s crotch and panting quietly.

Steve smiles and holds him while he rocks. Ever since he ducked into the nest, he’s been able to smell the general level of arousal that Bucky always carries with him. But now it’s heavier, the distinct scent of new slick and a more urgent sort of need coming to the forefront. All Steve’s talk of discipline and acceptance and care has gotten Bucky worked up. He hums encouragingly as the omega stims himself against his lap. “Aw, Sweetie. There you go. That feel good?”

“Ah, uh huh,” Bucky pants quietly, eyes going a little muzzy as he starts to lose focus. “Oh, Steve, ff-feels good, nnngh …”

“Good. That’s all I want, honey. Just want you to be happy and feel so good. Don’t need to worry about a thing, okay? Cause I’m your Alpha and I like you just like this. Rocking in my lap, doing what feels nice, just being a sweet n’ happy omega for me.”

Bucky chirps in a way that he rarely does, his hips juddering forward hard. “Oh! Steve I … I have to …” He squeaks and tosses forward, burying his face in Steve’s neck and whining plaintively.

Steve tuts and wraps his arms around him, still guiding him in the rocking motion. “What’s up, bub, huh? You have to go?”

Bucky nods fast against his shoulder. “Nnn! But, but …” He shakes his head back and forth, trying to fight it. “Nngh …”

“Okay, okay Honey. You see? This is exactly what I’m talking about.” Steve wraps his hand around the back of Bucky’s neck and grabs him in a firm scruff. He slides it up into his hair and pulls, using his grip to guide him back a little. Bucky yelps and meets him with wide eyes. “Shhhh,” Steve hushes, shoving his other hand down inside the front of Bucky’s pants. Bucky’s eyes go even wider. “It’s okay, bub,” he soothes, hand cupping the bulk of the padding and rubbing. “I know you just don’t get it. And this is me showin’ you. Cause I’m gonna keep you right here, and I’m not moving my hand until you let go for me.”

Really, he’s sure he’ll have Bucky naked and straight up wetting in the middle of sex in the very near future, but for now this’ll do. They are still in the hospital, after all, and this is still a communal nesting pod they’re in. If nothing else, Steve knows that the orderlies would not appreciate the mess.

Bucky gulps in a huge shaky breath and nods frantically, tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes as he gets overwhelmed. “Okay, okay,” he pants, grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders fiercely while his squirming gets frantic. “Oh god, S-ssteve …”

Steve kisses his forehead, murmuring non stop praise and love at him. Finally, Bucky tenses up and goes stock still. “Theere it is,” Steve coaxes, jostling his hand as he feels the warmth start to spread. Bucky moans and loses control completely, going limp as a noodle against Steve’s front and panting as he loses control. “Good boy.” Steve keeps murmuring it against his skin, giving pulses on the swollen crotch of the diaper with one hand and petting up and down his back with the other. “Good boy. That’s my good boy, Bucky. So good.”

Bucky doesn’t go all embarrassed, after. He stays a little dazed, in his head, chirping and humming at Steve when he encourages him to come out of the nest. They walk together to the bathroom, and Bucky does speak on and off when prompted; little 'yeah's and 'no's' and ‘okay’s. So he’s not quite non-verbal, and he’s definitely not in a fugue or a fit of any sort. No. He’s just a soft, contented, aroused ball of very happy omega.

In the bathroom on the changing bed, Steve is hardly surprised to find a pool of slick and a chubbed up little cock underneath the diaper. “Would you look at that,” he chuckles, going about cleaning him up. Bucky starts to whimper afterwards as he’s lying there, clean but exposed and untouched. “Please,” he begs, proving that he can, in fact, speak. “Please Steve?”

“Of course, Honey.” He wasn’t planning on denying him, poor thing. Steve smooths his hands over Bucky’s inner thighs, right up to the crease of his groin. He brushes his fingers over his half hard penis, back and forth a few times, just teasing it lightly. “How do you want me to make you cum?” he asks, only anticipating that Bucky will either ask him to touch his cocklet or else use penetration. He is not prepared for the kid’s breathless request of,

“Suck me, please.”

He freezes, taken aback. Oral sex—giving or receiving—is not permitted between Alpha Supports and their patients on the ward. Steve’s not precisely sure why, when digital and device-aided penetration is done every single day, but at some point in history, some guy writing the rules drew the line at oral. Anything that could be easily twisted to gratify the Alpha support rather than the omega patient is strictly forbidden. Steve has actually never given head to an omega before—patient or otherwise.

But he’s suddenly, achingly hard at the thought of doing so. “Oh, Honey ...” he hedges. “I don't know if ...” He grimaces at the pleading look on Bucky’s face, the anxious, wanting pinch in his brow, and finds himself throwing all his reservations aside. Fuck it, he thinks. He’s been professional long enough. Bucky’s going to be his by this time tomorrow, anyways. “Okay, Baby,” he says, giving in and rubbing over the boy’s belly with one hand. “Okay. You want that? Want to feel Daddy’s mouth on your sweet prick?”

Bucky keens and nods, “Yeah, please.”

“You ask so sweet,” Steve praises, sinking down his body, trailing kisses from his neck to his chest, down to his belly and the base of the sweet little cocklet he’s got between his legs. Steve tells him how pretty it is as he kisses it, mouthing over the softness. It’s only half hard, never really getting rigid, but it's still more to play with than the average omega has. Steve pulls him into his mouth and sucks until he gets an orgasm out of him. Bucky shudders hugely, his little prick squirting a tiny bit of useless seminal fluid, but nothing more. Steve pulls off, rubbing his inner thighs soothingly as he comes down from it. “Good?” he asks.

Bucky shudders and nods, smiling dreamily. “Thank you, Alpha,” he breathes. “We can do that all the time?”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, Honey. There’s nothing off limits anymore once I take you home with me. You can touch me and ask me to touch you any way you like. Whatever you’re curious about.” Steve is well aware that, outside of his treatment on-ward, Bucky is very sexually inexperienced. There’ll be a lot of firsts, once Steve brings him home.

Bucky's eyes have slipped closed, and Steve takes a moment to stare. He pets his belly, trailing his hand down to the boy’s wet little cock and further down to his balls. He plays with the soft skin, considering him. Bucky’s shrunk up some in the past three years, but he’s still bigger than he should be. Steve imagines what he’ll look like, after the procedure. There’ll be a bare space there, room to press and stimulate him. Steve's never had much of a preference with male omegas, finding both the little pocket of looser skin left after a castration and the tiny, coin purse sac of an intact omega to be attractive, in their own ways. But he can’t deny that he likes the aesthetics of a cut omega.

“Bucky?” he says softly. “There’s something I have to talk with you about, something we’re gonna have to do eventually. And I don’t want you to be scared, so hear me out, okay?” He waits until Bucky opens his eyes, a little wrinkle of worry forming between his eyebrows.

“What?” he asks.

Steve cups his sac and rubs it gently. “Here,” he murmurs. “You’ll need to have these removed, Sweetheart. Do you know about that?”

Bucky tenses. “What? N-no,” he looks pleadingly up at Steve. “Why?!”

“It’s something they’ve had written down in your chart for a while,” Steve admits. “I’ve avoided bringing it up until now. We had more short term parts of your treatment plan to work on, and I didn’t want to upset you. But I’m going to bond you, Sweetheart, and I gotta take care of you. This is what all your doctors have been recommending.”

Bucky keens miserably. “I don’t want to. Please. Please don’t make me.”

Steve hushes him, rubbing his belly and cupping his balls. “It’s such a simple procedure, Sweetheart. Lots of omegas are cut. Your body had a little too much time to develop. Remember how we talked about that?”

Bucky whimpers and nods uncertainly. “Y-yeah.”

“You’re bigger than most omegas down here,” Steve tells him gently. “Your body’s making hormones that you don’t need. It gets you all confused. That’s part of what makes you get so angry sometimes.”

Bucky whimpers. “Will it hurt?” he asks tearfully.

It’s such a naive question that it makes Steve’s heart ache. “No, Honey,” he soothes. “Not very much at all. You’ll just go to sleep while they do it. And then you’ll have nice pain medicine to keep you comfy while you heal. We’ll get you nested up at home. You’ll probably sleep a lot. You can watch movies and eat as much ice cream as you want,” he coaxes. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Bucky sniffles. “I don’t wanna.”

“I know, I know. It’s new and scary, but it’ll be so simple, I promise. I’ll be right there to take care of you, okay?”

Bucky sniffles for a few more minutes, but then he nods meekly, giving in. “Okay,” he whispers. “You’ll be with me the whole time?”

Steve bends down to kiss him. “The whole time,” he assures. “You’re such a good boy, Bucky. It’ll be okay. Do you trust me?”

Bucky doesn’t hesitate to nod this time, and Steve rumbles low in his chest, pleased. “Good boy,” he praises. “Once you’re healed it’ll feel nice,” he promises. “You’ll have an easier time getting pleasure from here.” He touches Bucky’s hole gently, circling the rim. “Release will be easier.”

Bucky’s still nervous, Steve can smell it on him. But he calms down enough for Steve to get him in a fresh diaper and dressed again. He can hardly believe the conversation went the way it did. If Steve had attempted to talk about this during Bucky's last stay on-ward, he's nearly positive he would've had a meltdown on his hands. But Bucky accepted it so easily.

“So proud of you, bub,” he praises. “Come on. Let’s go get you some lunch, huh?”

By four fifty, he’s said goodnight to Bucky and promised to be back the very next day, when he’ll see him discharged from his stay on-ward and bring him home. He clocks out and takes the train to a specialty omega shop up in Queens, where, along with a bunch of nesting supplies, he purchases Bucky a nice collar to go home in. It’s pricey and has all the bells and whistles, from inflation features and removable D rings, to insertable scent chambers and a GPS locator. Steve figures he must really be giving off the 'new Alpha' vibe, because the saleswoman smiles at him indulgently and says “congratulations” as she’s ringing up his purchases.

"Oh. Thanks." He blushes and tries to keep a straight face, but can't help but wind up beaming anyway.

At home he takes the tags off all of the purchases and sets them aside tidy and ready for Bucky, excited about how the kid will react when he sees his new things and gets to experience someone taking care of him properly and spoiling him for the first time in his life.

Geez, Steve thinks, by tomorrow he’s going to have an omega living with him. He feels giddy about it. Even with knowing Bucky’s personal issues surrounding his designation, Steve still isn’t worried. He cares so deeply for Bucky, loves him even, at this point. And he knows that no matter what obstacles they may face going forward, this is the best thing that he could do for the omega.

He flits about the apartment that evening, full of nervous energy but in a fantastic mood. He shoots off a few emails, one to Sam, inquiring about job possibilities at Shield or other local private practices. Even if there isn’t a position available at Sam’s firm, Steve is still very confident in his ability to find a new job. He’s got excellent qualifications, and omega healthcare is a chronically understaffed field. He’ll have to give up the role of support Alpha, though. At least in a sexual capacity. It wouldn’t be fair to put Bucky through that, coming home each day smelling of other omegas. Steve couldn’t do that to him.

He tries to fill his evening up with distractions, but it’s hard. He surfs a few job boards half-assedly, scent marks the stuff he bought for Bucky, makes a microwave dinner that he can barely taste, and watches an episode of a show he’s been following. Nothing gets his mind off Bucky for long. He’s simply too elated and impatient for the next day to arrive. So when eleven P.M. rolls around and he’s still wired as fuck, he goes rooting through the medicine cabinet, downing four Benadryl tablets in an effort to get at least a modicum of sleep in for tomorrow.

Predictably, he wakes up earlier than usual. Rather than closing his eyes again until his alarm goes off, he forces himself to don sneakers and go for his usual morning run, pounding out a few extra miles because he’s got the time and because he needs to burn off some of this nervous energy. He goes back home, showers, changes. He heads for the Sanatorium with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a skip in his step. 

God, he thinks as he keys into the hospital’s ground floor, the building really is ugly: very outdated, institutional, depressing. He’s gotten so used to it over the past five years. He’s glad that Bucky won’t ever have to come through its halls again.

Stanley isn’t at the security desk when he passes by, and Steve’s kind of glad, since for the first time in a long time he’s forgotten to grab their usual morning pastries. He leans through the security window and snatches his badge from the wall, heading for the elevators.

Raynor intercepts him at the double doors leading onto the ward, her mouth set in a grim line.

Instantly, Steve is on high alert, tension pulling through his body. “What happened?” he says, already panicking that something awful has happened to Bucky in the last sixteen hours. “Is he hurt?”

“No. His parents showed up. Come on.”

Steve’s guts sink and harden with dread, yet at the same time he doesn’t really have the chance to work himself into a true panic, because they’re on the move. Raynor marches straight to the conference room, inside of which they find a somber-faced orderly at the door, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes seated at the table, and Bucky huddled down over in the far corner, having a bit of a fit. Steve instantly recognizes it as another stress fugue, though thankfully it seems to be less severe than the one he’d found him in yesterday. He’s still got all his clothes on and he isn’t humping anything, so that’s a plus.

Steve hurries over and kneels down next to him. “Buck? Oh Buck, Sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m here now. I’m right here with you, Baby. Please don’t cry.”

Bucky’s huddled on the floor, tearfully rocking in place, one arm wrapped around his knees and the other hand up at his face, sucking two of his fingers. Steve wipes his cheeks and kisses his forehead, heartstricken at seeing him so upset. “Shh sh sh, Honey. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He remembers his backpack and slings it off his shoulder, unzipping it and dumping half its contents on the floor in search of the collar inside. He finds it and starts putting it on him, getting the buckle closed and the pressure points lined up with Bucky’s glands. “Can you get something for his mouth?” he tells the orderly at the door. The man nods with wide eyes and hurries out of the room. Steve finishes with the collar and fits the little air pump to its port, squeezing it until the pressure points in the lining have all inflated. Bucky’s breathing calms down considerably just from that. Steve rumbles low in his chest for him, giving him the sound of his Alpha’s approval. “Good boy,” he Voices, petting his face soothingly. “So good for me, bub.”

“Excuse me."

Steve looks back over his shoulder and meets George Barnes’ scowl with one of his own. “Be quiet,” he growls at him, making the man’s face go slack in sheer surprise. “Trust me, I’ll be right with you,” Steve grits. Turning back, he continues to murmur quiet, comforting words for Bucky to hear and latch onto; telling him how he’s right there and he’s not leaving, how he’s his Alpha and Bucky’s his omega and how they’re safe and good and everything is going to be just fine. Bucky whimpers and pushes himself closer to Steve, still crying sluggishly, but he’s non-verbal and even if he weren’t, he’s still got half his hand shoved into his mouth, his body’s reflexes in full gear as he tries to calm himself down.

Behind, Mrs. Barnes is complaining at her husband to “do something,” and Bucky registers her shrill voice and starts to rock a little harder. Steve winces as he sees the red indent of where Bucky’s started chewing on his fingers.

Luckily that’s when the orderly returns, and he hurries over to give Steve the suckling gag he’s brought. “Thanks,” Steve grunts, glad to see that the guy actually had the foresight to bring along a container of PheroGel for the thing. Steve exhales in relief and takes it from him. It'll help Bucky calm down. “Good thinking,” he mutters, maneuvering Bucky so that he can coax his hand away from his mouth and feed the rubber head of the gag past his lips instead. Bucky parts easily for it, accepting it with an anxious whine. “Shhh, there you go.” Steve velcros it in the back and checks the fit, then opens the valve and fills the chamber with the PheroGel.

Bucky makes a tiny, surprised sound when the taste reaches him, his cheeks hollowing as he returns to suckling instinctively. Steve smiles and encourages him. “That’s right. You just focus on that, okay?” He pets Bucky’s face and watches as he visibly calms down from the pressure of the collar and the feeling of something heavy and Alpha-scented in his mouth. “There you go, Sweetheart,” he soothes. “Just close your eyes and focus on how that feels. Can you do that for Alpha?” Bucky sniffles and nods tearfully, and Steve’s heart squeezes as he watches his eyelids start to droop closed. “Good boy,” he praises him once more. The gag is a slow suckle design, so Bucky should be able to keep using the pheromones to self-soothe while Steve works on dealing with the Barnes.

He’s enraged that they’re here at all. Steve fully intends to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Forcing himself to pull away from Bucky and stand, he’s stone faced by the time he turns around to face the Barnes. He walks over to stand across the conference table from them. They’re sitting side by side, but Steve doesn’t pull out a chair to join them. He locks his arms and leans with his hands braced on the back of a chair. “What are you doing here?” he says, letting his full displeasure come through in his voice.

For a second, both of the Barnes look a little bit intimidated. Unfortunately, that doesn’t last. George Barnes seems to recover some of his willpower and squares his shoulders to glower back at Steve. “We came to get him,” he snaps, sparing a disdainful glance towards the corner where Bucky is huddled. “We came to take him home and now they’re telling us we don’t have permission. ‘Permission’!”

“That’s right.”

“Well that’s bullcrap. He’s our son!”

Steve smiles nastily at him. “Well unfortunately, Mr. Barnes, You signed paperwork relinquishing custody of him.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake. That was only a few days ago! We’ve changed our minds, so you just get him packed up or, er …” he glances back over at Bucky and winces in disgust when he sees his son: collared and rocking and stimming with the sucker strapped over his mouth. “Just get him ready to go. Take that crap off him. We’ve found somewhere to put him, and he’s coming with us.”

“‘Put him’?” Steve repeats, frowning.

“Yeah.” George raises his chin defiantly, looking every bit the asshole that he is. “Found out he’s actually worth somethin’, even like this.” At ‘this’, he casts another disdainful look in Bucky’s direction. “Milking center up in New Rochelle takes cases like him. Said they’ll pay six grand up front.”

Steve sees red so fast, he has to hold on tighter to the chair for a few seconds. “What?” he says, the word coming out quietly only because he’s so breathlessly fucking mad. “Are you fucking shitting me right now?”

George Barnes’ snide expression is more than enough of an answer. “At least he’ll be useful, not a leech on society.”

In his head, Steve hears Bucky’s tearful, bitter words from two days ago: 

“Just a waste of hardworking people’s tax dollars!” 

An unpleasant groaning sound meets his ears, before he figures out that it’s his own hands, stressing and warping the plastic backing of the chair. He pulls them away and glowers across the table at the other man. A fucking milking center, he fumes, wanting to pick the chair up and put it straight through George Barnes’ smug fucking face.

Because Steve’s been to those places, has been called in to evaluate the omegas housed in their custody. He’s seen the warehouse-sized rooms: filled with rows and rows of omegas, fat and sedated, restrained to benches and hooked up to machines, bred and fed and watered and hosed down in place, like animals.

Christina steps in, probably because she can sense that her employee is about to unleash imminent violence on their visitors. “Unfortunately, the law is clear in this matter,” she tells Mr. Barnes, as no-nonsense here as she is in any other situation. “You signed all legal rights to James over four days ago and you no longer have any say in his care. The hospital has full custody of him, and we’ve already approved a long-term guardian for him.”

“What?” George Barnes stands abruptly from his chair, sending it rolling back to thunk against the wall in his haste. “What are you talking about? You can’t do that! I’ll … I’ll get a judge. There’s no way you can just—”

“There’s every way we ‘can just’,” Steve growls, unable to restrain himself from being unprofessional at this point. Fuck it. He doesn’t work at Hydra anymore, so unlike in times past where he’s been forced to make nice with less than stellar parents, now he can say exactly what he’s thinking. “You are a piece of shit, garbage human being, who shouldn’t be allowed to raise a fucking dog let alone a child. I think that you should leave now. In fact I strongly advise it. Forget about ever seeing Bucky again—because you never will—and just be grateful that you got away with the level of abuse that you did for so many years without ever being charged in a court of law.”

George Barnes opens his mouth, ostensibly to say something pissy, but before he can, Steve tacks on:

“Oh, and in fact you should be very grateful that you did sign those papers when you did. Because if you hadn’t? You’d best believe I’d be making sure you’d lose custody of all your children before you ever got him back. Now why don’t you pick your jaw up off the floor, help your wife heft her sloppy ass out of that chair, and leave this place before you’re thrown out?”

Of all things, it’s the comment about Mrs. Barnes’s weight that fuels George Barnes into action. He gets alarmingly red in the face, and it’s to the background noise of his wife’s insulted screeches that he starts to come towards Steve (presumably with the intention of hitting him). But before he can so much as round the end of the conference table, Stanley is bursting through the door.

“Hold it! Not another move, Buster!”

At Stanley’s back, Rumlow is standing with his taser gun drawn and pointed right over Stanley’s head. It’s that sight which seems to catch Mr. Barnes’ attention, and he pulls back from where he’d been approaching Steve, hands raised and gesturing for his wife to get up, too. “Alright, alright. We’re coming. Geez.”

“Sure you were.” Stanley sports his tough guy face, proud of himself, and ushers the Barnes into the hallway. Steve’s opinion of Rumlow inches marginally higher when he sees him hurriedly holster his weapon and step back, so that Stanley doesn’t realize he’d had a little bit of backup, there.

With the Barnes led away, Steve returns all of his attention to Bucky. The tension of this confrontation seems to have had surprisingly little impact on him, and Steve is especially pleased when he sees that the orderly had at some point managed to get both a blindfold and a pair of noise cancelling headphones on Bucky as well. With the positive stimulus of the collar and gag, he’s much calmer. Steve hurriedly takes the headphones and blindfold off, followed by the gag. “Hey, hey baby.” He’s petting all over Bucky’s face, trying to read his expression and scent the state he’s in now. He’s surprised when Bucky blinks a few times and then looks up at him with clear eyes.

“Steve,” he breathes.

“I’m here. It’s okay. You don’t have to go with them. You’re safe. You got your words back?”

Bucky blinks some more, looking between Steve and the place where his parents had been sitting at the conference table. “... They can’t take me, right?”

Steve nods. “Yeah, Buck. That’s right. They can’t. They legally can’t.”

Slowly, Bucky’s expression starts to brighten. He smiles. “But you can take me,” he says hopefully. “To live with you. Because you’re my Alpha now, right? And I’m your omega?”

Steve doesn’t even think of propriety, he just leans in and kisses Bucky straight on the mouth. Bucky’s lips are so soft, and he whimpers and responds so eagerly. Steve forces himself to pull back before he can get carried away. “Yeah, bub,” he says happily, trying not to get emotional in front of Raynor. “Yeah. You’re my omega now.”

In reality, they’ve probably got close to a half day’s worth of paperwork and consent-confirming counselling sessions ahead of them. But in the way that Bucky’s asking about? Yeah. They already belong to each other.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood starving artist smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers #fanfiction #steve rogers x bucky barnes #fanfic #medical kink #alpha steve rogers #omega bucky barnes #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega au #alpha/omega #a/b/o #hurt/comfort #omorashi #d/s dynamic #cognitive disability #medical needs #made up medical stuff #institutionalization #stimming #doctor/patient #age gap relationship

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Boys Side B Round 1 Match 19

Propaganda:

Satori -

"Tendou is socially peculiar to many characters in the show, from his strange movements, to his 'annoying' way of speaking (singing, wiggling (happy stimming!), using repetitive nicknames etc…) and his unsettling expressions… when he was a child, he was bullied and called a 'monster' because of such expressions and his unmerciful and aggravating guess blocking talent making him an intimidating little 'creature.' This was incredibly isolating. He also seems to be one of the few characters who intrinsically understands Ushijima, who is also DEFINITELY autistic. They've got neurodivergent solidarity for sure."

Tails -

"okay i see anon being sad so. i submit tails as the most autism of the sonic boys. his special interest is machinery and engineering and he could rival eggman with insane tech shit but he doesn't because he's 12 and wants to impress his big bro. he's socially awkward but slowly coming out of his shell w sonic's help (big arc across much sonic media is tails learning to stand on his own two feet without sonic, even). characterization ranges from The Ultimate Genius to Just a Little Guy which is. fun. who else does it like him. huh. also he counts as an anime boy because a) sonic is originally japanese media even if a lot of it is made in the west these days b) Sonic X is For Sure an anime and he's in there. yayyyyy tailsssss i was obsessed with him when i was 8."

#tumblr polls #autistic anime boys poll #satori tendou #tendou satori #satori tendo #tendo satori #haikyuu!! #haikyu!! #haikyuu #haikyu #hq #hq!! #miles prower #tails #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic x #hq tendou #tendou hq

[zootopiathingz]

I watched Zootopia like 6 months ago on a whim, and now the fixation is still hyper...ing.

Yeah

Anyways, Judy and Nick are the best and deserve everything (I genuinely couldn't remember anyone else's names the first time I saw it) aaaaand yeah it's sad that the Fandom is basically nonexistent.

Actually, it's still going strong(?) on AO3 (i've made a few one-shots (shameless self promotion I'm Not_Quite_A_Moron there)) but still, kinda sucks.

Anyways, random headcanon time:

Nick has two moms (he doesn't have specific names for both of them, he just yells "MOM!" anytime he needs help)

Judy actually really likes eating meat, Nick just has to convince her to try it

Nick became really closed off and touch starved after the Junior Ranger Scouts incident, so now, he's a chronic cuddler (especially with Judy (which she loves))

Judy's on the autistic spectrum (she often stims by tapping her foot, and she likes to display affection via playful punches to the arm)

Judy was born on the same day that Nick got muzzled, as if the universe itself felt bad and said "here, have a rabbit" (definitely didn't steal this one from Tumblr nope certainly not)

Nick doesn't really like Gazelle's music, he's more of a rock kind of guy, but he'll stomach any song for Judy’s sake

Judy's asexual (Take one look at the nudist club scene and tell me she isn't at least demi)

Bestie I’d just like to say AAAAAAAAAA

Sorry, but I just got SO excited when I saw someone submitting headcanons! It’s been way too long since I’ve been able to have a good ol’ Zootopia discussion. Oh and I’ll certainly check out your fics! My user is Pixarpnflover so be on the look out for some kudos!✨

Anyway, I love the idea of Nick being raised by two moms! There was supposed to be a plotline about his dad—John Wilde, I believe was his name—but got scrapped along with a lot of other content. So until it’s actually mentioned in canon I’m choosing to believe his mom in the flashback was in fact a raging lesbian lmao🤷‍♀️ also would that make him a double mama’s boy?🤔

Ooo an herbivore converting to a meat diet? How intriguing! I like to think now that she lives in the city that Judy would be open to trying new foods, which would include poultry and fish. I can see her favoring sushi or even turkey.

Nick being openly affectionate after meeting Judy, and reserving most of that said affection for her? Hell yeah. He’s very unapologetic about it too. He’s waited far too long to share that amount of vulnerability and comfort with someone. No way he’s ever going to hold back🫂

Autistic Judy my beloved🙌🏻 You cannot convince me she’s even a little bit neurotypical, I will not believe you lol. I love that her natural rabbit behavior could actually be interpreted as stimming!

Dude, I have believed this headcanon for so long!! The second I found out their age difference, I just knew there had to be some kind of coincidence going on there. I mean, Nick could’ve just said “when I was a kid” when beginning the story, but instead he specified his age (or an estimate, at least) and I think that a choice on the writers’ part. Anyway, I’m a big believer in fate/soulmates, so even just the idea of Judy being born, destined to cross paths with Nick someday to heal his childhood trauma and make his life better, just melts my heart❤️😭

Haha yeah, you can tell the concert at the credits that Nick was only there for Judy😆 Not to say he wasn’t enjoying himself, he just wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic as everyone else. But ya know, the things ya do for your girlfriend!😋 I can also imagine Judy listening to music she doesn’t necessarily enjoy either. A certain loud rock song starts playing on the radio and before she can even think about changing the station, Nick goes “oh I like this one!” And so she smiles and suffers through it. She may even end up liking it anyway!😌

As for this last one, I kinda have to disagree. Not to say she isn’t ace or demi, and no hate to anyone who shares this opinion! But idk, to me I don’t think someone not wanting to see a bunch of people walking around ass-naked makes them ace or a prude (which I’ve seen some fanfics try to claim her to be?) I mean, I’m horny asf and I’d be just as uncomfortable walking around a nudist club😆😅

…I never thought I’d type a sentence like that lol

Anyway, thanks for sharing these! I sure hope the fandom comes back someday, but in the meantime I’ll be here waiting and open to exchanging more headcanons! :3

#zootopia #judy hopps #nick wilde #wildehopps #judy x nick #headcanons #zootopia headcanons #disney headcanons #long post #asks #lady luxo asks

[peachjagiya]

Regarding this post…https://www.tumblr.com/peachjagiya/747812063351635968/oh-can-i-submit-a-controversial-opinion-we-all

I’ve always chalked Taehyung’s “otherness” as mentioned by Namjoon in BV2, honestly, to be about his craving physical closeness-especially with Jungkook. There are plenty of times when their touchiness gets a side eye from the hyungs until they must have mutually decided to ignore it. Taehyung must have been loved as a boy, a lot. He doesn’t have any inhibitions when it comes to physical proximity (unless he was being forced to kiss Hobi-although I think that was more about being offended by that-it felt disrespectful for a laugh and titillation). I think his exuberance, creative mind and busyness was probably a lot for a bunch of teenagers to deal with.

I’m not a doctor or psychologist, but Jungkook is your classic introvert with some social anxiety and a smidge of being on the spectrum. That shows up in his ability to mimic Taehyung and many other things. He covers his ears and eyes to this day…he has consistent stims, too. He pours his passion onto the stage and it must tick a lot of boxes for him.

I'm cautious about labelling them with neurodivergence they may not identify or be diagnosed with but yes, I recognise some of those traits in JK. Like I said, the recognition of neurodivergent tendencies is as important to me personally as it is for someone to be diagnosed. For example, anecdotally, my little boy is six and also covers his ears and stims a lot - he absolutely idolises Jungkook. It's pretty huge and special to see your idols reflecting yourself back at you.

I think you're right about Tae. He's a comfort seeker. Though I'd add he's also othered for things like his speech patterns.

In that weird sad Namjoon, Tae, Jimin and JK live from December, Jimin comments on Taetae language. I know it was a thing they referenced often but Tae made a point to say he didn't do that anymore and seemed a bit defensive, like he'd made a real effort not to talk in a way that was weird to others and yet, it was still a thing he could be made fun of for. Made fun of in, I think, the most loving way but still a bit of fun being made.

Of course there are ways in which they're all teased about various things. Yoongi being grandpa, Jin's wide shoulders, Namjoon's clumsiness... But they've never been subjected to a whole thing where they're "weird" as a character trait. It makes the teasing feel a little more uncomfortable to me.

But I'm not Tae. Maybe he's fine with it or used to it.

The Hobi kiss was a weird moment. One of few times I've felt very uncomfortable about an interaction to the point where I hate watching it back. Tae's face after... Yeah. No. Not for me.

#my asks

[zikadraws]

Alright there we go ! This new oc is based in DC Universe. Long post ahead. (Tdlr included at the end. Enjoy.)

This is Taylor Serils (last name up to debate), a tailor owning a small suit shop in the low quarters of Gotham. Uses he/they/it pronouns, is definitely neither cis nor straight but he really doesn't care. (Basically the incarnation of that one meme about the pronouns.)

He is autistic and the son of a tailor (from who he inherited the shop) and a chemist. He didn't get to know his father too much since his parents were separated, and he was killed in a villain incident when he was still a child ; but his mother never accepted the fact her son was autistic and that medication wouldn't change it so she tried to alter his brain chemistry herself by submitting him to experimental treatment.

Said treatment did predictably nothing against his autism, but got him really sick, and fucked up his neural network, so now he can not feel physical pain (sense of touch still operational though), and his feelings and reaction time are a bit deafened. She went to jail after he absent-mindedly ratted her out at school though (still in there btw, for child abuse and illegal practice of medicine), and he was taken in by his dad's side of the family, from who he picked up the tailoring ways which put him to calm, even though they were a bit put off by him, his disabilities and his... destructive stimming habits.

Taylor uses its body as stress/boredom relief, and so tears out his eyebrows, bites off his nails, and bites off his skin. But the thing is, since he can't feel pain, he takes that to the next level, to the point he has no eyebrows, no nails anymore, and his fingers are bitten almost to the bone. They had to bring him to the doctor about this. They tried everything to get him to stop tearing his hand's skin off, eventually resorting to long gloves. Barely sufficient though.

Despite all this, he contently followed a tailor apprenticeship at his family tailor shop with great application, and actually helped the family business thanks to the chemistry hobby he picked up from his mother (subconsciously wanted to please her somehow then found it relatively smooth, so kept investing themselves into chemistry, and then snuck her chemistry material at his new home), by treating the fabrics himself and making them last longer, which his family was thankful for, albeit taken off.

It's through some customer interactions that he found his calling in life. Some guys would complain to the little family shop about comfort and fit, using, verbatim, the expression "my suit should feel like a second skin". Which sparked something within Taylor.

He began experimenting with fabrics and bits of his own skin, until the fabric he ended up developing could blend in smoothly with his epiderm, as a greffe, and even serve the basic functions of skin, which is to touch, and even, eventually, through trial and error, grow.

He didn't even have vitiligo originally ! His skin turned like that due to his experiments on himself, and since it didn't bother him, he just let his skin like that. The spots have a tendency to shift in shapes from day to day.

He invented a fabric that he could just wrap around his damaged skin and it would just fill in the spot in less than a minute, and since his favourite colour is blue, he used this colour for the fabric. Thus why the blue fabric forearms. He never stopped experimenting in this new specific interest, and crafted really interesting suits with those, praised for how astonishingly comfortable they were. (Also made skin cultures, and obtained skin samples from... various sources.)

By this time, he was an adult and inherited the shop when yet another villain incident took the rest of his family, leaving him alone to handle the shop. It was pretty lonely, but he did end up making friends with a Gotham support group, and especially a young boy (that I'm calling Miles out of pure lack of imagination) and his big brother, runaways living together because of family issues.

His career took a turn when Miles' big brother was murdered by a cop for being black. The cop got away with it, but Miles who was understandably devastated mourned his lost brother at Taylor's, who decided to find out who was the bastard, and realised it was one of his current customers, who came for a suit for a special event.

...So Taylor got to work. And made him a suit. The cop found it very fitting. 25 cents tipped.

The day of the council party the cop was supposed to be a bodyguard for a big head, the suit he was wearing started getting... *very* tight. Skin tight, despite still being incredibly bendy. The cop was annoyed, and embarrassed because it was obvious, but didn't try to take it off... Until the end of the day, where he realized with horror that he just couldn't take it off, because the clothes had fused with his skin. He tried to bolt to Taylor's, who conveniently closed their shop for a week leave.

And then the fabric started getting progressively itchy. Really itchy. Extremely itchy. PAINFUL itchy. Like last stage hives, but even worse.

They couldn't do anything except give him painkillers at the hospital, because hormonal treatments worked for like five minutes before the tissue grew tolerance and came back stronger, and to remove the suit they would have had to remove his skin entirely, which he was starting to do on his own anyway because of how unbearable the pain and itchiness were. So they could do nothing but bind his hands and watch him slowly die of advanced gangrene, as Taylor's suit eventually hit its "necrosis" finale. A genuinely awful way to die.

Taylor did a real masterpiece of this suit, but he wasn't really good at covering his path. The police got him pretty easily, and found his back shop lab with all the skin works. They freaked their minds out, and Taylor was immediately sent to Arkham. He promised Miles, who was pretty much on his own otherwise, that he would be out as soon as possible, though.

Taylor wasn't going into Arkham unprepared. The suit wasn't the last project he got done before the cops got to him, after all.

(Taylor's last project allows him to bend its own skin, which he uses to pick the locks, break out a few other residents as a distraction, steal a few guards' skins, and break out of Arkham. His stay in there lasted 8 days tops.)

(This absolutely kickstarted his reputation amongst Arkham residents. Which may be good, because after getting arrested, he needs a new clientele. Guys gotta eat, yaknow.)

Batman is not on his case just yet, but he will be sooner rather than later.

[TDLR :]

This is my DC Comics OC, Taylor Serils ;

He is about 25 y/o ; he never went to high school ; he is a great formed tailor, and an entirely self-taught chemist ; he owns a tailor shop that happens to have a DIY chemical lab in the back area ; he (they/it) pronouns ; he is disabled (his pain receptors don't work) and autistic ; he has self-damaging coping mechanisms ; his parents were a tailor and a chemist, the first dead and the second in jail (for abusing him) ; his favourite colour is blue ; his specific interests revolve around the frontiers between skin tissues and fabrics, for better or for worse, all because he took an expression too literally that one time ; (he also likes animals, TV cartoons and to knit and crochet) ; he can craft clothes and fabrics that act as epiderm, that he uses to heal, or to steal his enemies' skin, that he grows to be able to bend ; he gave himself vitiligo after his own experiments ; his best friend is a teenager ; he cruelly murdered a cop once ; he got locked up at Arkham and broke out after a few days only ; his criminal case is legally stamped (literally btw) as "supervillain" ; he is morally neutral and has absolutely zero big-scale ambition whatsoever, but more and more villains (and, thus, heroes) are getting to whisper about him.

He Gets Subjected To Trouble.

And yes, this was a summary. I got a bit carried away. I hope it's all somewhat coherent (:

Honestly sounds like the kind of OC that doesn't necessarily needs to be in a specific universe, but any either way, I like the guy. And will likely post some about him. Hope you enjoy him as well ^^

If you got any questions about, or for, him, I'll be happy to respond. Thanks for reading ! 🤗

#long post #oc #new oc #original character #oc introduction #oc lore #disabled oc #autistic oc #dc comics #cw abuse mention #cw death mention #cw skin picking #<- didn't even know that one tag was a thing tbh #taylor serils #my oc #hope you like them^^ #open if questions #cw angst #cw police brutality #watercolor

[bread-tab]

I finally read the instructor's feedback on my midterm essay and she said it was better than some published essays of the same type that she'd read, and it gave her a better appreciation of the source material—a poem she'd read many times, written by someone she personally knows! I'm happy stimming in a Starbucks right now

Y'all, I slapped together that essay over a couple days and submitted it late because I was working on it right up to the deadline. I thought it was going to get a "B" at best! Nope... 100%. Fuck!

I'm not trying to go on here and be braggy I'm just. Kind of in shock. Shit. Imposter Syndrome Real. Oh my god. Why am I serially failing English classes instead of pursuing writing as a career? What am I doing with my life??

#eng102 saga #breadtab life #breadtab writes #imposter syndrome #sus #swearing cw #college #adhd studyblr

[ratsoh-writes]

Least favorite child's name? *They chuckle think for a moment, tapping a finger on the table gently to stim as they think*

I cant decide between Allyson or Jeffery... so I submit both. For both of them, they just don't scratch my brain in a good day. Plus... the only Jeffery I've ever remembered from my life was annoying.

*They took a generous drink from their lemonade, relishing the yummy drink.*

What kind of music do you like? Hehe I'm a jack of all trades but I'm usually listening to indie and alternative artists... but I do enjoy some rock and metal too... but my only exception is country. I cant stand most country songs. - 🦝

Sorry but I gotta cut this off, it’s inbox time!!

[cluelesspigeons]

Rejection

Rating: General Audiences (G)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter

Additional tags: Autistic Draco Malfoy, Supportive Harry Potter, Rejection, Acceptance, Stimming, Office Worker Draco Malfoy, Comfort

Word count: 941

Summary: Draco has worked a long time on that project. But now that he has submitted it to his supervisors, will they accept it?

Read it on ao3 or below

Draco was sitting at his desk. He was surrounded by mounds of paperwork he still had to get done as soon as possible. His supervisor wanted it to be done by the end of the day, though Draco knew that wasn’t possible. Not today at least.

He hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything from the moment he had sat down in his office that morning. Every little sound coming from the hallway into his office was too much. Every flicker of light, every moving shadow was too much. It was impossible to focus.

The only thing that wouldn’t leave his mind was the project he had submitted earlier that day. It was something he had been working on for weeks, months even. He had spent days on end trying to perfect it. He had put so much work into it. And after all that time, it was finally ready to submit it.

Now the only thing he could do was wait for the approval of his supervisors. There had been some responses from his colleagues already. They had been mostly positive, complimenting him on his hard work. But Draco was still waiting.

He was bouncing his leg now, his fingers tapping repeatedly against the wooden top of his desk. He couldn’t take it anymore. When were they going to answer, dammit? The day was almost over already.

He pushed his chair back abruptly and was about to stand up and start pacing around his small office when someone knocked on the open door. Harry walked inside, his face lit up with that very charming smile of his. He carried two large cups of coffee and gave one to Draco, the smile still in place.

However, it only took one look at Draco’s face for the smile to disappear. Harry frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Draco turned the warm cup of coffee around in his hands. He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Harry took a step closer. “Okay, then,” he said, taking a sip from his coffee. “What’s on your mind?”

Sighing deeply, Draco turned away from Harry, avoiding his questioning eyes. “The project.”

Carefully, Harry sat down on the worn armchair in Draco’s office. “You submitted it?”

“Mhm.” With his cup still in hand, Draco leant on the edge of his desk, following the pattern in the rug with his eyes. “I still haven’t gotten any reaction from the higher-ups and it’s driving me crazy!” Draco’s voice rose in volume. He was squeezing the cup now, anxious frustration boiling in his veins.

Harry stood from his chair and walked over to Draco, placing his cup on the desk. “Can I touch you?” he asked softly. When Draco nodded, he wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, pulling him closer. “It will be fine,” he said quietly, his voice not much louder than a whisper. “You’ll get your answer soon. I’m certain they will approve and then–”

Harry was cut short by a small piece of paper folder like an airplane flying into the room. It landed in the middle of Draco’s desk.

Inhaling sharply, Draco reached for the paper with shaking hands. He unfolded it slowly.

It didn’t take much time for him to read the words that were written on it. And it took even less time for tears to fill his eyes and stream down his cheeks. “They rejected the project,” he whispered, letting the paper fall onto his desk.

His hands were shaking now, his breathing becoming short. “I had already thought of so many ways it could benefit us. It could change some important things! And I thought we could do it and make things better. But they… they just…”

A sob wrecked through his body, his shoulders shaking.

“Hey.” Harry pulled him closer, one of his hands resting at the back of Draco’s neck and rubbing calming circles into the soft skin there. “It’s okay, Draco, my love. Even if these arseholes rejected it, it doesn’t mean you didn’t do a great job! You did an amazing job!”

But Draco shook his head. “It just feels like they don’t care about me. Whenever I suggest something, even if it is as small as more quills to write with, they turn me down immediately. They don’t care. It doesn’t matter how much work I put in every single day, I’m not important enough. I don’t belong…”

“Oh, Draco,” Harry whispered, leaning in and placing a tender kiss on Draco’s forehead. “My sweet, sweet Draco. You are important, to me and to so many other people.” He wiped a tear away from Draco’s face. “I don’t give a flying shit what these heartless bastards think of your project or of you. And, honestly, neither should you. But I know that’s easier said than done.” He huffed a humourless laugh, shaking his head. “For all I care, they can come kiss the great Harry Potter’s arse.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Draco’s lips at those words. He looked at Harry with watery eyes. “Thank you.”

Harry looked back at him, that charming smile appearing once more. “Of course, love. Anytime.” He let go of Draco and extended a hand. “Ready to go home?”

Draco nodded, a small thankful smile playing around his lips. Harry was right. He shouldn’t care what other people think about him, especially not his stupid, annoying supervisors. As long as he could be himself around the people he loved, he had nothing to worry about.

With new growing confidence, he took Harry’s hand, their fingers automatically tangling together. “Yes, please. Let’s go home.”

And if he had any say into it, he would never return.

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x harry #harry x draco #my writing #cp writes #cluelesspigeons #autism #autistic draco malfoy #rejection #acceptance #comfort #drarry drabble

[cloneshipping7567]

Romantic Confessions Part 18

Part 18/30

18. "We have just met and yet it feels like I have known you for a lifetime."

Pairing: Thorn x Fox

Rating/WC: T/2082

Warnings: None <3

Notes: I'm so sorry this took so long to get out! I really really struggled with this prompt, but I hope I did it justice!

~~~

Fox rubs at the spot on his forehead just above his brow, trying to soothe the oncoming headache. He’s been awake too long, a couple rotations at least, and his caf is starting to have less of a useful effect on him. He sips at his now cold drink anyway, choking it down without wincing. 

His new commander should be here sometime soon, fresh out of ARC training, and he’ll take a good chunk of Fox’s responsibilities off his plate. He and his commanders are already stretched way too thin. 

“Sir?” greets him from the doorway to his office, and Fox looks up from his datapad to see Stone. “Did you stay here all night?”

Fox grumbles and looks back down to his report, sipping his caf again. “I’m almost done with these reports.”

“We’re going to have to sit through another lecture from Patchup about the use of stims, sir,” Stone says with a tired tone, crossing his arms over his chest. “Again.”

Fox makes an affronted noise. “I haven’t used any stims, thank you very much.” He downs the rest of his cold caf, curling his lip in disgust and putting his mug back down. “I’ve been banned for life, Patchup thinks my heart will give out.”

“You just chugged half a cup of caf right in front of me,” Stone says, unimpressed. 

“That isn’t a stim, though, is it?” Fox asks, looking up from his report to shoot Stone a grimace. It’s as close to a smile as Fox has gotten in a very long time, it feels like. Maybe since they left Kamino. 

“It’s adjacent,” Stone argues, but doesn’t bother pushing it. “You need sleep. When was the last time you took a break?”

“What day is it?” he only half jokes, looking back to his report and swiping to the next page. He does not need to be reading this; a shiny could understand this banthashit and forge his signature, surely. “I took a nap at my desk a while ago, I’m fine.”

“I can’t wait for your new XO to get here, he’ll force you to actually delegate.” Stone steps into the room, uninvited, and sits at one of the chairs in front of Fox’s desk. “You can share some of the work, you know.”

“Then we’ll all be here late,” Fox mumbles, skipping to the bottom and sighing in relief when he realizes he only has a few paragraphs left. He finds where he left off and keeps reading. “Everyone is already overworked as it is.”

“You’re completely ridiculous,” Stone says, and Fox glares at him. “Sir,” he adds, as if that will make the statement less court-marshall worthy. “If you gave me even a couple extra tasks, you’d be able to take a night off. Do you even remember what the barracks look like? The boys miss your pretty face.”

Fox rolls his eyes, looking back down at his report and skimming the last few paragraphs to make sure it’s still very unimportant. He submits it and clicks on the next one-the last one, thankfully. “I do give you extra tasks, just not enough that we would both be here half the night. And I don’t sleep in the barracks anyway.”

“Ah, yes, my mistake Mr. Marshall-Commander, you’re above us grunts. Forgot.”

Fox makes a disgusted noise, looking up at Stone and throwing his datapad down. “Stone.”

Stone has the decency to actually look regretful, raising his hands in surrender. “Fine, too far. You could visit, every now and then, you know. Be good for morale.”

Fox works his jaw, going back to his last report. If Stone weren’t here, he might be done already, and he might be napping in his chair by now. Maybe, probably. “No it wouldn’t. They go all quiet when I’m around and it’s awkward.”

Stone shifts, wanting to deny it badly. “They just respect you, is all.”

“They’re scared I’ll bite,” Fox argues, baring his teeth in a mock of a smile just to demonstrate. “I piss people off, that’s my whole personality.”

“No,” Stone argues immediately, shooting Fox a real smile. He leans back in his chair and puts his boots on the desk- the heathen -and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’ve never managed to piss me off, and I’m very easy to piss off.”

“I don’t try to piss people off, I just always seem to.” Fox says, and then makes a face. “Well, the men anyway. My life’s purpose is to annoy Cody and Wolffe as much as humanly possible.”

Stone snorts at that, cocking his head to the side. “They’re funny when you piss them off, though. They’re so patient with literally everyone else, but you simply breathe and they start to get pissy.”

Fox hums, scrolling on the report and mostly skimming. “Batchmates are just different, I guess. Easier to annoy, I know all their buttons.”

“I’ve heard natborns say that’s what having siblings is like,” Stone adds, brows furrowed in thought. “My batchmates were the same way, I guess.”

Fox tenses his shoulders, all amusement leaving his body at once. This is potentially his very least favorite topic, either tied with or just behind discussing his own emotions and feelings with anyone. “Anyway, they’re uncomfortable when I’m around. Cody and Wolffe say their troopers are the same way, unless it’s their personal squad. Like you,” Fox says, nodding at Stone’s boots. “You’re obviously comfortable around me.”

Stone rolls his eyes but puts his feet back on the floor, leaning his elbows on the desk instead. “Very. The Big Bad Fox isn’t really all that intimidating, if you get to know him.”

“Don’t you have your own work to do?” Fox bites, rolling his shoulders. His tone is harsher than it had been, even if Stone knows him well enough to know it’s still mostly playful. “Because I have a few suggestions on what you could do instead of-”

“Commander Fox?” comes from his doorway, and Fox’s head snaps to the newcomer. He’s in full kit, including his kama but missing his pauldron. Understandable; a lot of clones find it more annoying and distracting than anything, himself included. “Am I interrupting?”

Stone stumbles to his feet and stands at attention, arms stiff at his sides. Fox has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the caught expression on his face. This newcomer technically doesn’t outrank Stone; he may be Fox’s new XO, but they would both be commanders. Fox is the only clone in Red who would outrank either of them. 

“No,” Fox answers, standing up himself slowly and placing his datapad down. “Commander Stone was just leaving. Right, Commander?”

“Yes, sir,” Stone says, turning to face Fox with a click of his heels. His hand comes up to salute Fox, but the face he gives Fox is nothing short of unprofessional. He slides his helmet on and turns, nodding to the newcomer before leaving the office. 

The new commander lets him pass, and then enters the office and shuts the door behind him. He stands at a parade rest, arms crossed behind his back at the wrists. “Commander Fox, I’ve been sent to report to you. I’ll be serving with the Guard under your command for the rest of the war.”

Fox nods, wishing he had his own helmet on right now. It’s always served as a shield for him, one which is far more necessary when dealing with the senate than on the battlefield. It would be rude, though, and might be seen as dismissive. “I was told I would be getting a new commander soon. What’s your name? Do you have one yet?”

The new commander pulls his helmet off, and Fox has to fight to not gasp. He’s gorgeous. He’s grown his hair out long, and the curls reach just below his chin. He’s either died them or he’s like Captain Rex with a mutation, but they’re blond and they look soft. His eyes are bright and full of life, curious maybe. The way he sets his jaw is different from the rest of them, and he holds himself more confidently than the average clone. 

He’s simply gorgeous, and it’s incredibly distracting. 

“Thorn,” he answers, a small smile growing on his lips. He tucks his helmet under his arm, and cocks his head to the side. “They didn’t tell you?”

Fox swallows thickly and tries to collect himself before he does something embarrassing. Like drool. He clears his throat, looking down at his reports before making eye contact again. “Might have, it’s um. I’ve looked at a lot of reports in the last few rotations.” He doesn’t mention that he hasn’t slept in that time, nor has he been taking note of anything less important than an assignment that requires decisions from him. 

“Hm,” Thorn says, his smile growing and amusement coloring his tone. “Heavy workload, then?”

“I wouldn’t- it- yeah. Sure.” Fox looks away, internally cursing himself for his decision not to sleep. He couldn’t make this more awkward if he tried. “Lots of paperwork. It won’t be so bad with another commander to help.”

“Oh good, I love paperwork,” Thorn snarks, making Fox look back up at him. “I sure am glad I went through all that ARC training to do desk work.”

Fox rolls his eyes, forgetting his decorum for a moment. Usually it takes someone like Cody or Stone to make him forget himself like this, to make him feel comfortable enough to be human. Must be the sleep deprivation. “Welcome to the Guard, where the action is limited and the paperwork is infinite.”

“You should have been a salesman,” Thorn says, cocking his hip out and resting his helmet on it. “All that charm is going to waste here.”

“You’ll get it soon,” Fox says, trying not to bristle. He doesn’t know this clone, especially not well enough to be this sarcastic yet. “You’ll love the monotony and predictability of the job, it definitely doesn’t suck the life out of you.”

“Aw, come on, it can’t be that bad. I’ve heard some horror stories being spread around the GAR. Handsy senators, riotous prisoners, the whole nine yards.” Thorn smiles, really smiles, and Fox cannot breathe for a second. “I’m sure I’ll love it here.”

Fox feels a smile start to grow on his own face; a combination of seeing Thorn’s beautiful smile and the amusement from this conversation. He feels his shoulders relax, his whole body relax for the first time in a very long time. Thorn’s eyes widen fractionally, and his smile grows to show off his teeth. “I hope you will,” he adds after a pause just a bit too long. He’s pretty sure it’s obvious how infatuated he is. 

Thorn’s eyes flit between Fox’s, and his smile melts into something more fond. “I know I will, if you’re here with me.” 

Fox’s eyes widen and he swallows thickly. Shit. He’s never been flirted with, he doesn’t really know how to do this. But he really wants Thorn to keep doing it. “It’s good to- I’m glad you’re, uh,” Fox winces, wishing his brain was actually working right now instead of whatever it’s doing in this sleep-deprived haze. “I’m glad you’re here with me-too.”

Thorn laughs, eyes bright, and Fox actually gasps quietly at the sound. “We have just met, and yet it feels like I have known you a lifetime,” Thorn says, his smile dazzling. 

Fox swallows, feeling like his heart might beat out of his chest. “I- I feel the exact same way.” And he doesn’t have the words to describe why that means so much, why this is so absurd for Fox. 

Thorn smiles again, moving his helmet from under one arm to the other. “I’ve never been to Coruscant before, are there any good places to eat? It’s almost lunch time.”

Fox huffs a laugh, looking down at his datapad and thinking. He quickly sends the last report to Stone and turns it off, before looking up again. “I do, actually. Can I take you to one?”

“What a wonderful idea,” Thorn agrees, slipping his helmet back on before opening the door. “I can show you my quarters too, so I can change into civvies.”

Fox swallows thickly, putting his own helmet on. He definitely wants to see the inside of Thorn’s quarters. Maybe after lunch, though. “Lead the way, then,” he says, and ignores the glare Stone sends him from his own desk.

#cloneshipping #thorn x fox #my writing #fanfic

[windovvaving]

aileen ashild aodh.

triggers: ableism (towards an autistic individual; from school faculty), sensory overstimulation (mentions of it happening & how to combat it)

history / headcanons:

uses both neutral & feminine pronouns. tries to keep the usage of each about equal, but if someone just picks one & sticks with it, they won't get mad.

super into fixer-upper stuff, which explains why they live in lakeridge & drive a car older than them! the house they live in is going under remodel by her own hands! she plans to turn it into her dream home.

after four years, they’ve only finished two rooms: the main bedroom & the kitchen. this is because they’re trying to only use their own money on the renovations. & she wants it to be perfect, a dream home.

aileen comes from a pretty well-off family, which is how she can afford to live on her own in denver at 24 (parents pay the mortgage). they originate from castle rock, co, which is south of denver but north of the springs.

she grew up playing outside, never masking, & surrounded by family. even if said family was just her parents and older sibling.

their passion for music started young. see, both parents are in the music industry: mom’s an audio engineer & dad’s front man for an indie rock band. originally, aileen wanted to be a singer like their dad.

but they can’t carry a vocal tune to save their life. so they turned towards mixing like their mom.

which is how aileen landed her first dj job! a classmate (in her arts academy days, more on that below) was having a party & was in desperate need of someone to do the music. enter aileen, well-known to have music-inclined parents. she took the few mixing skills she had at that point to make a (pretty shitty) set.

seeing everyone enjoying the music they put together, even if it wasn’t their words or instrumentals, all of those people enjoying something they made unlocked a new passion.

their dj alias is “ASHE” (though this is the only time i’ll stylize it that way to keep an all lowercase aesthetic). it’s a play on their middle name “ashild.” also, phoenix imagery since their last name means “fire.”

won't get upset if you use her stage name instead of her real one in a convo. sometimes people know her better as ashe & who's she to care.

at twenty, after building rapport in castle rock, aileen set out for the big city. denver! why denver? why not los angeles or nashville or any city known for having a club scene? the sibling from bullet four is here! (i mean, not yet, but i plan on putting a wc out).

life hasn’t been all fun & games for aileen, though. it mostly has been, but being so openly autistic had consequences. school faculty brushed her off, rolling eyes at her “disruptiveness” aka stimming.

when it came to school, aileen made a conscious effort to not vocally stim & to keep other stims small (hair twirling, chewelry, leg bouncing, finger tapping, etc) to a minimum, but teachers didn’t work with her. it hurt her to not stim, but the school environment made i so she felt she had to.

not even an iep helped. this issue cumulated in the aodh parents pulling aileen out of public school & enrolling her in a charter arts academy. the faculty at this school were much better at working with aileen & the environment of a bunch of other public school rejects helped her flourish.

wears sound-cancelling headphones all the time to help with sensory overload. this is especially important when aileen's at the 303 since clubs are overstimulating environments.

being the one in control of the music (& the volume) helps combat that. it's why she can be in that environment for hours at a time.

wanted connections:

her older sibling! i’ll be submitting a wc to the main, but if anyone wants to discuss it already, hit me up. this is the only one that would need to be a brand new character.

fellow djs! not necessarily at the 303 or even professionals, but just someone aileen could talk about music & mixing with.

a best friend! someone they met in childhood*, or high school*, or maybe even during their time in denver. the two became fast friends over shared interests. thick as thieves ever since. (*if a childhood or hs best friend, they'd have to be from castle rock since that's where aileen originates from).

a rival! well, rival is a bit inaccurate. more like someone who just doesn't like her & who she doesn't like either. they'll get into word spars, but it doesn't ever really go too far. only a tiny bit of real heat behind hurled insults. could be a professional rival or a personal one or maybe even someone else obsessed w/ renovation who doesn't like aileen maximalist style.

romantic interest! i like cute romance threads, so a datemate (of any gender) for aileen would be awesome.

if you’re hearing THE RECORD PLAYER SONG by DAISY THE GREAT playing, you have to know AILEEN AODH (THEY/SHE; DEMIFEMALE) is near by! the TWENTY-FOUR year old DISK JOCKEY (DJ) AT CLUB 303 has been in denver for, like, FOUR YEARS. they’re known to be quite BOISTEROUS, but being INDOMITABLE seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble CHLOÉ HAYDEN. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those THE SPARKLE YOUR EYES GET WHEN EXCITED, STAYING UP LATE LISTENING TO A SONG ON REPEAT, & NEON LIGHTS AT ALL TIMES OF THE DAY vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the LAKERIDGE long enough!

*please note that since chloé is autistic, has adhd, & has postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (pots), aileen will have these traits as well!! she is being written by an autistic mun, but one w/o adhd or pots. aileen's portrayal is heavily influenced by my own experiences.

#chq;intro #aileen aodh;; all #aileen aodh;; headcanons #// #wow that history isn't chronological at all!! but i can't imagine writing it another way

[olliethescribe]

[text transcript: “Hey! My brothers and I aren’t in the competition, but we brought some (totally-not-enchanted) donuts, if you guys wanted any..?”]

The I Hate Fairytales boys weren’t made early enough to have been submitted, but Raph is here to hand out some snacks (that, once again, are totally not enchanted to give you weird dreams!! Totally not)!! :D

[@tmntausummit]

“Oh, thank you, that’s very kind!” Ron accepted the donut as gracefully as he could. It was absolutely enchanted.

He waved at the young turtle with his free hand as they walked off, waiting until they were out of view to consider his freshly gifted treat. The magician’s practical experience with mystics and magic were enough to inform him that this would give him strange dreams. But considering the everything else that had occurred that day, well, things couldn’t get any weirder.

He watched as Donnie strutted down the runway with poise and purpose, a sense of pride washing over him. That was one of his kids alright, especially given the stellar form. It was lovely to see the teen so completely in his element, so perfectly at ease.

Ron tore the donut in half and took a bite. It tasted, for lack of better phrasing, magical. And it was almost as sweet as hearing Donnie laugh as the purple turtle elegantly exited the catwalk, toes tapping and hands flapping as he happily stimmed.

Maybe Ron’s spell backfiring spectacularly wasn’t so bad after all. Not if it gave them this.

#tmntausummit 2.0 #no crime only brooches #no crime only brooches au #hi! - sorry for getting to this so late! - hope you have a wonderful day! #hypnopotamus #rise donnie #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt