#anyway remind me to never start wips again

[foryoureyes-o-n-l-y]

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[javierpena-inatacvest]

Haircut

Summary: Javi thinks that he's way past due for a haircut. You like his hair long for reasons other than his good looks.

Word Count: 2.1K (I sprinted to write this after I saw this picture)

Pairing: Husband!Javi x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) Oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, praise kink, (lovingly?) possessive Javi, Javi's back at again with his filthy mouth, hair pulling, Javi is hungry and the man is gonna EAT, allsions to more smut, Jonas Brother's references ( bc Javi is our girl dad king and his daughters love them LMAO)

A/N: Y'ALL REALLY THOUGHT THIS PICTURE OF PEDRO WAS SURFACE RIGHT HERE ON TUMBLR DOT COM AND I WASN'T GONNA DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!? WRONG. I legit have 3 WIPS I started in the past 24 hours based on this picture alone. Pedro really did this one for the Javier Peña girlies (gn) and I will forever be in debt to him for that. You cannot tell me that this is Dad!Javi when his kids are a little bit older bc HOLY SHIT?! This really may the nail in the coffin for @notjustjavierpena and I bc really fear this is the dilfiest Husband Javi has ever looked 😩😵‍💫 anyways, never getting over this!!!!

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“God, I can’t even remember the last time my hair has been this long. Lucy keeps saying I look like a Jonas Brother. Am I supposed to know who they are? Is that supposed to be a good thing?” Javi sighed, playing with his dark brown curls in the bathroom mirror as you snuck up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, peeking out to watch your husband’s longer than usual locks twist between his fingers. 

“They’re the goofy looking boy band on Disney Channel that the girls are obsessed with. Like the Backstreet Boys, except cooler, apparently.” You laughed, planting a soft kiss into the fabric of Javi’s worn t-shirt covering his broad back before stepping next to him, leaning your hip against the bathroom counter to admire your husband as he fiddled with his hair. 

“Jesus Christ, those guys? God, I really do need a haircut before I start looking like the poster what’s-his-face hanging on Lucy and Elliot’s walls.” Javi chuckled, running his hand through his hair once more before mirroring you, his hip resting against the counter, leaning his weight on his palm splayed flat along the granite surface. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think he’s supposed to be the best looking one.” You teased, giving Javi a playful shrug. “Besides, I like your hair long.” 

“Seriously?” Javi asked, raising an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest in protest. “It looks like a mop right now.” 

“A very sexy mop.” You smirked, nudging Javi before stepping closer into him, reaching up to run your hand through his curls, slowly twisting the ends with your fingers. “It reminds me of that trip we took to Jamaica a few years ago. Your hair was almost this long, remember? You looked so hot in those stupid floral button downs you insisted on buying, and hanging out shirtless by the pool all day while you played with the girls.” 

“Fuck, I forgot about that. I’m surprised we didn’t end up with a fourth kid after that trip.” Javi chuckled, slowly shifting the palm that had been holding him up towards your waist, letting his fingers gently toy with the waistband of your pajamas. “You really like my long hair that much?” 

“Mhmmmm.” You cooed, continuing to close the gap between your bodies, your free hand resting on Javi’s chest as the other continued to stroke his curls. You could feel a low groan rumbling in Javi’s throat as your fingers weaved back and forth through his hair, the other creeping up to cradle his jaw, thumb tracing back and forth across the stubble on his cheek. 

“Yeah? What else do you like about it?” Javi groaned, his hand slipping under the elastic waistband of your pants to grab a fistfull of your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hand. 

“I like…” You paused, bringing your lips to Javi’s, pressing a tender kiss on his lips, “I like that it gives me something extra to hold on to.” 

“Hold on to?” Javi asked, cocking his head in slight confusion. 

“Hold on to when you go down on me. I love being able to run my hands through your hair when you eat me out, especially when it’s long like this.” You smirked, watching Javi’s eyes go wide in delight, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he bit down on his lip. 

Before you could say anything else, Javi’s hands were gripping around your waist and hosting you up to sit on the counter, caging his body against yours, hands planted around the outside of your hips while his lips crashed into yours, your mouths becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth. 

“Fuck…” Javi whispered to himself, pulling away from your lips to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck, running his hands over your thighs. “I love it when you play with my hair, Hermosa. Love feeling you pull on it when you’re close. Makes me lose my fucking mind every time. Fuck, I’d stay burried between your legs forever if I fucking could.” 

Javi began to let his kisses trail down your body, past your chest and across your stomach before he was dropping to his knees in front of you, draping your legs across the width of his shoulders. Pulling at your waistband, you lifted your hips off the counter so your pajamas and underwear could fall to the floor, revealing the wetness that had been pooling between your thighs since you had walked into the bathroom a few minutes ago. 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi whispered, further parting your legs to see the arousal already dripping through your folds, staring up at you with a boyish grin on his face, “So fucking wet for me, Hermosa. Didn’t realize you liked my hair that much.” 

“Oh shut up you goof, you know I- o-oh fuck-” You whimpered, Javi cutting off the rest of your sentence as the flat of his tongue dragged across your cunt, the suddent sensation making you gasp in delight, already playing in to Javi’s plan as your hand shot down to his head, digging your fingers into his messy hair. 

“Better hold on tight, querida. There’s a lot more where that came from.” Javi smirked, pulling away just enough to see the smug smile between his cheeks, peppering a few wet kisses on the inside of your thighs before his head was back between your legs, placing a soft kiss on your clit, already aching and throbbing for more of what you had just been promised. 

“Do your worst, Peña.” 

That one sent a low growl of approval humming through his chest, laughing to himself as his hands gripped tighter around your thighs, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your skin before another slow, broad stroke of his tongue was traveling through your folds. 

While you were truly convinced there wasn’t another man who loved going down on their wife more than your husband did, you could always tell when Javi wanted nothing more than to stay buried between your thighs, making you cum over and over until you were begging him to stop, lapping up every last drop of you until there was nothing left to give, and right now, you already knew Javi meant what he said when you were about to have to hold on for dear life. 

The hand buried in the dark waves of Javi’s hair only began to tug tighter as his tongue began to work meticulously across your cunt, pressing just enough pressure against your sensitive bundle of nerves to already have you a squirming, whimpering mess, but painstakingly slow enough to have you begging for more. 

“Javi… Oh, shit. Fuck, more baby, please. P-please.” You moaned, looking down at Javi with what you were already sure was a wrecked expression painted across your face. 

You could practically feel Javi’s smug smirk pressed against your cunt as he eased one, then two fingers into your aching core, curling them to bump against the spongy spot inside you that already had you fisting at the edge of the bathroom counter to try and keep your composure, and better yet, your voice down. 

“Oh my god, f-fuck. You feel so good, baby.” You moaned, feeling the strong arch of Javi’s nose bumping against your clit, placing a soft kiss there before the flat of his tongue licked another long, broad stroke across your cunt, putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to send the sweet tingling sensation to start building in your spine. 

“Fuck, I love this perfect pussy so much. I still can’t believe she’s all fucking mine. My perfect fucking wife. Tell me, Hermosa, whose pussy is this?” Javi asked, pulling away for you to see your slick covering his mustache and the lustful look pooling in the dark brown of his eyes, the quiet possessiveness of his tone making your cunt clench even tighter around his fingers as they continued to pulse in and out of you. 

“It’s y-yours, Javi, It’s all- fuck- It’s all yours.” You whined, your breath hitching in your throat as you spoke. 

“And who’s the only one who makes you feel like this, huh?” Javi tutted, sliding a third finger into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting making you let out a ragged whimper as you threw your head back in pleasure. 

“Y-you- Jesus- Y-you are, Javi.” 

“And who’s gonna be a good girl and soak my face when she cums for me?” 

“M-me.” 

“That’s fucking right, you are.” Javi growled before diving back between your legs, working his tongue relentlessly against your clit, circling and flicking in fast and firm motions as his fingers curled deeper into your core, eating you up like a man starved, desperate to make you fall apart. 

You could already feel the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten from the way Javi was working so relentlessly to make you come undone, drinking every ounce of you up as his lips latched around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch and mind go blank while that all too familiar tingle began to creep through your core, cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around him. 

At this point, your fingers were tugging so tightly around the soft, brown curls of his locks to try and hold yourself together, that you were convinced that you were close to pulling his hair out of his skull, but with the way you were on the brink of collapse from the way Javi’s mouth was working against your cunt, you almost didn’t have a choice. 

“Fuck, Javi. Oh shit- Baby, I’m so close. Don’t stop.” 

“I won’t stop, mi amor. Won’t stop until this pretty pussy fucking soaks me.” Javi mewled, peeking his head out from under you just enough so that his sweet, brown eyes were locked with yours, the hot words of his breath dancing against your pussy as his fingers continued to rock in and out of you. “I’ve got you, Osita. Promento. Damelo, bebita. (I promise. Give it to me, baby).” 

Before you could respond, your jaw dropped open and face scrunched in pleasure as Javi dove back in, burying his face in your cunt as each press of his tongue became more firm and precise than the last, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as you clutched tighter around the edge of the counter, trying to keep from screaming out in pleasure and raise any suspicion. But as your legs began to tremble and your heart race, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was taking every ounce of willpower you had left to make that happen.

“Fuck, Javi. Fuck, I- fuck- I’m gonna, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh.” You whimpered, feeling your orgasm crash through you, pleasure radiating in your veins as you fell apart, losing all inhibitions to keep yourself quiet as you threw your head back in all consuming bliss. With his fingers still buried in your cunt, gently working you through your high, Javi shot back up, his mouth engulfing yours in an electric kiss to try and capture your ragged moans that had been coating the walls of the bathroom, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips. 

Your heartbeat finally began to slow, your chest heaving in long, heavy breaths as you slumped into Javi, your head resting on his shoulder as your hands stayed buried deep in his hair, grasping onto his now sweat-dampened ends to try and pull yourself back down to reality.

After a few moments of letting you come to, Javi gently pulled out his fingers, all three drenched and glistening with your slick, pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a devilish smirk of satisfaction on his face. 

“God, you taste so fucking sweet. You really weren’t kidding about the hair, huh Hermosa?” Javi chuckled, cupping your jaw to cradle your cheek with his broad palm, forcing your gaze up at him. 

“I told you.” You giggled softly, still trying to catch your breath as you smiled at him, pulling him in for another long, tender kiss. “Hottest looking Jonas Brother I’ve ever seen.” 

The two of you burst out into laughter, practically snorting at your comment, taking a second to compose yourselves as Javi crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes at you. 

“If that’s the fucking case, I’m getting out the clippers tonight.” 

“Not until you take me to bed and do this all again, you aren’t.” 

taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3

[bangtanintotheroom]

Just Like Candy (M)(Teaser)

She's just like candy, she's so sweet

But you know that it ain't real cherry, know that it ain't real cherry

🔊 candy - doja cat (spotify | soundcloud) 🔊

• Pairing: S.Coups x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Smut

• Rating: 18+

• Words (teaser): 583

• Summary: Following a breakup, Seungcheol is looking for a distraction for the night. You catch his eye with your red lips and the rest is history.

• Warnings/themes: mentions of a breakup, sulky Cheol 🥲, drinking, swearing, one night stand, flirting, making out, dirty talk, handjobs, fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), c*me swallowing, strength kink, manhandling, hint of begging

• Notes: Yes, yes, I know. "There goes AJ falling for another leader!" I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT! SO WHAT IF I LIKE A RELIABLE MAN HUH, HUH 🤬 *deep breaths* Anyways. Just enjoy me starting to simp for Mr. Coups and watch as I slowly become a Carat over time 😊

• Teaser Notes: Teasers are a WIP and will not fully reflect the final draft, warnings and themes are subject to change. If you want to be tagged when the final draft is released, either leave a reply or shoot me an ask! PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE PRESENT IN YOUR BIO OR YOU WILL NOT BE TAGGED.

• Taglist: @minttangerines @minisugakoobies @kiestrokes @swga-ficrecs @hyunjinsjeans @firesighgirl

Reminder that I have a permanent taglist if you're interested in all future fics I post!

“Yah, is he on his phone again?”

Wonwoo replied to Seungkwan’s question from the front with, “He sure is.”

Every other occupant groaned in exasperation, Chan peering around him to scold, “Seungcheol-hyung, focus! You’re supposed to have fun with us tonight, not pine over her!”

“Just block her already!”

Seungcheol was quick to snap at Joshua’s quip, “No, because then I’ll look bitter.”

“So?”

Seungkwan turned around in the passenger seat to look directly at him, seeming as if he was about to give the most unhelpful advice ever.

“Hyung, you want my suggestion?”

“No.”

“Too bad. Fuck her feelings, respectfully—” He was quick to throw in that word after the elder’s face began twisting in displeasure. “—she decided to end it and she’s out there living her best life while you’re moping around. Be selfish for once and focus on your well-being!”

Chan joined in, “Exactly! Are you going to let her distract you from having a good time with us tonight?”

The eldest wanted to fight back on instinct, but the more he stewed on his friends’ words, the more he realized that they had a point.

What was the use in getting in his feelings? He’d just end up being the downer of the group and waste the effort they put in to have him get dressed and come out. Even though it had been a while since he went to a party of this size, the tiniest part of him was excited. His ex was the type to avoid get togethers like this, so he often put off the guys’ invites in favor of pleasing her.

But she wasn’t around anymore…

He sighed heavily. Hopefully, he’d be distracted enough that she wouldn’t run through his mind until he got back to his bed and deleted more of their couple pictures.

“No, I’m not.”

“Last chance to back out.”

Seungcheol couldn’t help but knit his brows a bit as he pondered. Was he really about to fool around with a complete stranger?

He didn’t need to see Wonwoo’s flabbergasted expression downstairs to know that this was somewhat out-of-character for him. Even when he was single, getting in bed with someone he had only known for a couple of hours was a thought he never entertained. But this was now and he was, to put it lightly, yearning for some physical contact that would keep him distracted for the night.

And quite frankly, he didn’t want to say no to you.

“Seungcheol?”

The light call of his name brought him out of his thoughts, looking down to see you gazing up with mild concern.

“You alright?”

He was quick to nod and smile reassuringly, replying, “Yes. Sorry, just…got in my head for a bit.”

Your expression eased up, tongue clicking as you gave his hands a squeeze.

“Well, we can’t have any more of that. C’mon.”

You maneuvered Seungcheol around so his back was facing the bed now.

“Quit thinking about your ex and focus.”

“Believe me, I’m trying. I might need a little more help on your end.”

With the hint of encouragement in his voice, it seemed to shift you into a more domineering mood, cherry lips twisting into an undaunted grin while you let go of his hands.

“Of course. Even if it’s for a moment—“ All of a sudden, he felt a push to his chest and found himself falling to the bed before looking up at your salacious smile. “—I’ll make you forget all about her.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2024. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Cheshire behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! ( + non-chrono link for app users )

“Um, yeah,” Billy says, still internally cringing at himself. “Just–not just the bare minimum, I mean? Like–other things too. Books and games and snacks and . . . whatever you think’s fun, or whatever you want to learn about, or whatever.” 

He’s definitely been in “homes” that didn’t give him things like that. He doesn’t want Lynn to feel like . . . a burden, or a problem, or just unimportant and unwanted like that, so . . . yeah, he’s definitely gonna get him things that aren’t just the bare minimum. As many of those things as he can, he thinks. 

Batman gave them so much money, and that’s not even counting the stipend. Billy can definitely afford to give Lynn the kind of stuff none of his foster families wanted to give him. So, like–he’s gonna, obviously. 

Of course he’s gonna. 

Lynn ducks his head a little, then swallows uncomfortably. Billy resists the urge to nudge Tawky towards him again. He wonders if he could just, like . . . offer Lynn a hug, maybe? Maybe that’d be okay? 

Or maybe it’d be weird and pushy, or maybe stupid, or maybe just make Lynn feel uncomfortable. They’ve never met before today and they’ve barely spent any time together at all, and Billy doesn’t want to be the type of foster parent who demands a relationship that just isn’t there, even if he’s . . . well, not really just a foster parent, he hopes. But those fosters just always made him feel like they were more interested in getting attention and looking good to strangers than anything about him. 

He wants Lynn to feel like he’s interested in him–wants Lynn to know he’s interested in him, and cares about him, and isn’t gonna ignore him or hate him if he doesn’t follow some stupid script he’s got in his head of how he “should” be. 

He definitely wants that. 

“It’s okay if you don’t know what you think’s fun yet,” he tries, hoping he’s not assuming too much. “It’s probably kinda overwhelming, with, um . . . literally everything happening all at once and your whole life getting turned on its head, um . . . basically five minutes after it really started, so . . .” 

“I was alive before I woke up,” Lynn says, a little stilted. “I–saw things. Learned things.” 

“Things about yourself, or about how Cadmus wanted you to be?” Billy asks. 

Lynn–pauses. Frowns. 

“. . . um,” he says. “I . . . don’t know.” 

Billy is pretty sure Cadmus just sucks, actually. Like. A lot. 

“Okay,” he says. “Well, that’s okay too. You can take your time figuring it out. There’s no rush or anything.” 

“Superman won’t like me if I don’t figure it out,” Lynn says, his frown deepening. “If I’m not–useful.” 

. . . okay, Billy thinks. Cadmus really sucks, actually. 

“Superman doesn’t care about people being useful,” he says firmly. “That’s like, the last thing Superman cares about. He just likes people for who they are.” 

“. . . who I am is . . . fake, though,” Lynn says, his eyes slanting away. “It’s–programmed.” 

“So?” Billy asks, reminding himself superheroes don’t burn down weird basement labs outside of extenuating circumstances. And anyway, the sidekicks already messed Cadmus up pretty bad as it was. “Lots of people get programmed. Red Tornado’s programmed, and he’s really nice. And Wonder Woman got made out of clay as a little kid, so she got, like, magic programming. Like, to be her ‘age’, you know?” 

Lynn . . . blinks, slowly, and then glances back at him. 

“You really think that?” he asks. Billy’s a little confused by the question. He doesn’t think it; he knows it. 

“I mean, yeah?” he says. “I just mean–it doesn’t make you fake. That’s all. Especially ‘cuz you can, you know . . . learn stuff yourself, if you wanna. You don’t have to just stay the way you got taught to be.” 

Lynn stares at him for a long, silent moment, then looks down at the table again. 

“How long have you had–uh, Uncle Tawky?” he asks, abrupt and obviously trying to change the subject. That’s fine, Billy thinks; he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. And Lynn’s gotta learn how to do that kind of thing anyway, so it’s good practice for more complicated conversations, he figures. 

“Since I was ten,” he says. “He came from India! I met him in Fawcett, though, and he’s been my best friend ever since! He’s really great. And a respectable gentleman, so you don’t need to be scared of him or anything. I mean, I don’t know if you’re scared of tigers or not? Because probably you’re tiger-proof? Like–normally, I mean. But yeah.” 

“. . . I’m not scared of tigers,” Lynn says, looking a little bewildered, for some reason. Billy beams at him. 

“Great!” he says happily. Tawky could probably hurt Lynn, since he’s magic too, but he obviously wouldn’t, so he’s just . . . not gonna draw attention to that right now, obviously. That wouldn’t make Lynn feel very safe, he’s pretty sure. 

But Tawky could also probably stop Lynn if he got mind-controlled, so . . . maybe it would make him feel safer? Billy’s not sure, actually. 

. . . hm. Yeah, he needs to figure that out. 

“. . . you’ve really had him since you were ten?” Lynn asks, looking–hesitant, now. Billy doesn’t know why, but nods. 

“Yup!” he says. “He’s the best.” 

“. . . are you sure you want me to have him?” Lynn asks, still looking hesitant. 

“Yeah!” Billy confirms cheerfully. “Tawky’s the best! He’ll protect you. And keep you from having bad dreams, too.” Tawky’s really good at eating nightmares, so yeah, Lynn won’t have to worry about bad dreams at all. 

“Uh,” Lynn says, then very gingerly reaches over and picks up Tawky, and then sets him in his lap with a weird look on his face. He looks a little–emotional, maybe? At least for him, anyway. He’s not very expressive, so far. “Um. Okay.” 

Billy just beams at him again. He’s really glad they like each other. 

“. . . thanks,” Lynn says as he looks down at Tawky, voice a little abrupt again. “Um–Dad."

[arabaka]

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐗 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐁!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ━☆ *⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚.

(GOJO SATORU X AFAB!READER) - BEHAVE.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ CONTENT WARNINGS: GOJO'S A L'IL MEAN. SPANKING. BRIEF CHOKING. UNPROTECTED SEX. CREAMPIE. NO PRONOUNS USED. ゜・。.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ WORD COUNT: 426. ゜・。.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ LOVE NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: this is an unfinished wip that i never got around to fleshing out more. hope you enjoy anyways <3 ゜・。.

"Whadd'ya mean you’re not sorry? Huh?" Every word is punctuated by a harsh slap to your bottom, the sharp thwaps!! stinging your skin while his cock bullies its way inside you, inches at a time to give you no reprieve. He always did have a hard time holding back when it came to you. “You’re hurting my feelings, baby.” Gojo hisses, knuckles a stark white as his digits cuff you by your hips, ensuring your cunt stays snug on the base of his cock– where it should be.

You mewl pitifully into the covers, all the bark and bite fucked right out of you. You could only clamor for fistfulls of sheets, letting the bedspread be the confidant to the tears and drool that flow like rivulets from your wound shut eyes and your slack open lips. You knew Gojo could get mean, you just didn’t know he could get like this. So fully sheathed inside you, your little hole is stretched taut. 

“Gotta remind you who this pussy belongs to. That’s all. Then you’ll be good, won’t you?” Gojo’s words find you once he fully sinks his length all the way inside you, body now over you in the same way a predator takes his prey. You’re left to tremble but not to hide; Gojo’s hand around your neck makes a mockery of any man who’s ever thought he was worthy of touching you. Thumb and fingers giving you a squeeze, he revels in how pliable you are, how meek you look under him with a cunt full of cock. Groaning when your hot and gummy walls flex around his shaft, he can’t help but start the pace up all over again, keen to feel you tighten with some movement.

“‘Mmm sorry!” You try to get the words out before he can rob you of them, finally craning your head back to give Gojo the first good look at your face he’s had in a while.

And you are perfectly ruined.

Your thick eyelashes clumped together by diamond tears, eyes with pupils so large they’re devoid of color and your lips. Oh, your lips.  You’re delectable with how your bottom lip juts out in a pout, swollen from kisses and nibbles from the insatiable man with Sjix Eyes. “Shit, you keep lookin’ at me like that and I’m–” He breaks for an inhale and you feel his need come to a boiling point with a heavy throb in his cock, making your body shudder as he just seems to fill you up more and more.

[newpathwrites]

I Love it All (Din x f!reader)

“My body is just so…” you closed your eyes, disgusted with yourself. “It’s so… soft… and saggy… literally everywhere…”

He huffed in response, clearly expressing his disagreement. “You mean you’re middle aged…”

Summary: You’re unhappy with your body, and Din is having none of that.

Notes: I don’t know if this is any good - I got this idea and wrote it in a rush instead of working on my WIPs 🤫. It was supposed to be a chaste thing, but for some reason I couldn’t stop it from heading the sexy route. I’m still not very comfortable writing smut, so this is very vague and nondescriptive, and I may have rushed a bit through those parts. This is absolutely not my best work, but I’m trying to follow the advice of all those reassuring Tumblr posts and put it up here, anyway.

Warnings: Non-descriptive sexual content, negative thoughts about one’s body.

Word Count: 1.1k

Read on AO3

Main Masterlist

————————————————————

“Why are you so focused on my worst features?”

Din froze, hand halting its gentle exploration over the skin of your stomach, eyes searching your face.

“What does that mean?” he asked in an unexpectedly dark tone.

Did you really think any of your features were anything less than perfect?  Or did you think he believed so?  That idea was downright offensive.

“It’s just…” you started hesitantly.  “Your hands always seem to gravitate toward the ugliest parts of me…”

“You have no ‘ugly’ parts, Cyar’ika,” he replied quickly.

“We both know I do…”

He looked at you with a mixture of concern and confusion.  “I do not… I think every inch of you is perfect.”

“Well, maybe you only think that because it’s me…”

“Yeah.  Is that not the same thing?”

Stars.  He could be so sweet sometimes without even trying, but he was missing the point.

“You know what I mean, Din,” you sighed, pulling the robe tightly around your body, clearly trying to hide yourself.

“I really don’t, actually.”  His hand snaked around your shoulder to rub your back over the fabric.  “Explain it to me.”

“My body is just so…” you closed your eyes, disgusted with yourself.  “It’s so… soft… and saggy… literally everywhere…”

He huffed in response, clearly expressing his disagreement.  “You mean you’re middle aged…”

You opened your eyes to look at him.  “It’s not attractive.  Don’t try to tell me it is.”

“Alright, look,” he began, pulling your hands away from the fastenings of your robe and exposing your upper half.  “I appreciate the softness…a lot...”  He squeezed once before running his fingers over your breast, thumb passing over your nipple and eliciting a small gasp. “Sure, you look a little different now than fifteen years ago, but… I like that we’ve aged… it means we managed to survive this long together…”

You craned your neck up to kiss him once in agreement.  “That is true, but…”

He cut you off abruptly with his mouth once again on yours.  “Let me finish, Cyare.  I’ve got your whole body to cover here.”

He didn’t wait for a response before adjusting your bodies so that you lay flat on your back below him.  He peeled off your robe entirely and ran his mouth down your neck and chest while gently groping your breasts.

And then he moved on, kissing down your abdomen until he reached the soft rolls of your stomach.  “It makes me happy to see that you’re not skin and bones like you were when we met.  We’ve done well for ourselves - we’ve never gone hungry since, and we should be proud of it.”  He ran his hand softly over your stomach.  “This is evidence that you’re healthy and nourished, and it’s beautiful on you.  I’d like to remind you that I have plenty of this, too.”

He smirked as he laid his lips there, and you allowed a small giggle to escape.  It was true - and you loved that little bit of fat he’d accumulated there.

His mouth continued down until he reached the band of your underwear, eyes looking up at you for permission.

You nodded, and he peeled them down your legs.  “You worry about this, too… don’t you?” he questioned as he ran his fingers through the soft curls of hair there.

You looked mildly but genuinely pained as you responded with mock despair, placing a dramatic hand over your eyes.  “Even my vulva is sagging, Din!”  

He laughed.  At least your mood had improved.  “It’s just aging, Cyar’ika.  A similar part of me is sagging, too.”

Your eyes sparkled with amusement.  “It’s not the same.  Those sag at baseline…”

He laughed again as he lowered himself to the floor at the foot of the bed, kneeling as he pulled your body closer to the edge of the mattress..

“I love all of it exactly as it is.  Okay?”

You nodded.  He’d made his point.

But he was not done.  His fingers had continued to caress the sensitive skin there, heightening your slowly building arousal.  

He placed light kisses on your thighs, purposely focusing on the parts he knew you disliked, hoping to prove to you that he really did care for every part of you, wrinkles and sags and all.

Meanwhile, his thumb found the most sensitive part of you as he reluctantly pulled his mouth away to move back up to the head of bed.

You immediately reached for his face, kissing him deeply through whimpers of pleasure.  “I like your sagging parts, too…”

His chuckle was soon replaced by a low groan as your own hands clumsily reached down into his sleep pants to return the favor.  

Your efforts were uncoordinated as you fought his clothing, but as the waves of your orgasm abated, he took it upon himself to kick off the offending items, readying himself over you.

“Slow,” you told him emphatically as he filled you.  “I want to tell you everything I love about you, too.”

“If you say so…” he huffed with strained humor.

You reached up to run your hands through his curls as you spoke against his mouth, delighting in his slow and gentle movements.  “You’re self-conscious about the gray… and the creases on your forehead… and the patches in your beard, but it all looks so good on you, Din.  You’ve only gotten more handsome with age.”

He could only groan against your lips.  He wasn’t sure he believed that, but stars did he appreciate that you thought so.

“And your scars - they tell your story, and I’ll never tire of tracing them to remember that you came out on the other side to me.”  Your fingers found the well-healed gash on his neck.  He hated that one in particular, but you loved it because he survived.

You were becoming a bit breathless now, too, the pleasure building again as he kept to your instruction to go slow.  It was a wonderful kind of torture.

“And that little roll of fat on your stomach… I’m the only one privileged to even know it exists… and I love that…” you said between small gasps.

He was really straining with effort now, your words having their intended effect.  His forehead pressed against yours as his thrusts became a bit more forceful even at this languid pace.  “I don’t think I can hold back anymore, Cyar’ika…”

“Then don’t, love.”

This was one of your favorite parts of him - the one that allowed himself to lose control with you.

No more words were spoken as you moved together at a more steady rhythm, and the release was that much more incredible because every bit of self-consciousness about your aging bodies had melted away in the process.

“Do you really like my scars?” he whispered against your neck when he finally went slack against you.   Ah, so he was insecure, too.

You pulled back to look at this face, smiling adoringly.  

“I love your scars.”

____________________

Thank you for reading!

[theotherbuckley]

WIP Wednesday 💜

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone 💗 I have an exam later today and then it’s my birthday tomorrow heh anyway here’s some healing fic and guess what! Buck is actually healing :D

TW: mentions of SH scars

Bobby knocks on the door again. “I’m starting dinner now. It will be ready in about an hour, okay?”

Buck doesn’t say anything.

“Buck?” He hears again. Fuck, Bobby thinks something’s happened to him, he’s so stupid he should just respond. Just say okay.

“Buck, are you okay in there?”

He puts on his short-sleeve shirt and opens the door. “I—I’ll help. If you—If you want.” If you still want me here. If you can look at me after this.

Bobby stands frozen, surprise written on his face. And then he smiles. There are tears in his eyes, but he’s smiling nonetheless. He draws Buck into his arms and gives him the biggest hug.

He knows how he looks — arms battered and beaten with a blade and his own mind as the weapon. It’s not a pretty sight. Yet here is Bobby, holding him like he might disappear if he lets go, loving him in spite of his flaws.

This is all Buck ever wanted. To be loved anyway.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Athena says before joining in and wrapping her arms around Buck.

He has a family.

He is not alone.

Maybe, maybe he can get through this.

When they break apart, tears streaming down all of their faces, Bobby says “I’d love some help.” And that’s that.

He helps with dinner the best he can. Bobby doesn’t let him use the knives, which he understands to an extent, but also, he’d never do that in front of them, he wouldn’t subject them to that. Regardless, he helps add the spices, get some herbs from the garden, and dress the salad. He still feels better than he has in weeks, even with Bobby looking at him every 5 seconds like he’s checking he’s still there. It’s nice to know that someone cares enough to check.

“We love you so much,” Athena says at one point. “I just want to remind you. We love you no matter what.”

Buck looks at her, with glistening eyes, and says, “I love you, too. Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else he can say to convey just how grateful he is for their existence. For taking him in and loving him even when he’s at his worst. For loving him like he’s theirs. Which he is, he supposes, they’re family afterall.

Tagging the usual moots <3 @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @king-buckley @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @evanbegins @diazsdimples @wikiangela @bucksbirthmark  @underwater-ninja-13 @daffi-990 @fionaswhvre @aspecbuddie @lover-of-mine @nmcggg @tizniz @monsterrae1 @smilingbuckley @buckaroosheart @hippolotamus @incorrect9-1-1 @buckdefencesquad @actualalligator let me know if you’d like to be added or removed <3

(Edit: i accidentally posted this at 12am Wednesday instead of 12pm ajidksksk my bad guys)

[3d-wifey]

Hi!!! Awhile back I sent something about how star reminded me of “Work song” by Hozier and I was thinking about how Finnick reminds me of “From Eden” (also this is long I’m very sorry)

—

Babe

There's something tragic about you

So I kinda view this as when Finnick first met Star he kinda realized what could happen to her. The Greek concept of tragedy is different from ours, it’s watching something, knowing how it’s going to end and being powerless to stop it. Thats the tragedy, the inevitably of what is going to happen and for Finnick that’s how he sees star when they first meet.

—-

Something so magic about you

Don't you agree?

I also think this applys to when they first meet because, correct me if I’m wrong, Finnick was kinda interested in star the moment they met and the fact that she can draw him in like that is odd, it’s new, it’s something he’s never experience before.

—

Babe

There's something lonesome about you

Something so wholesome about you

Get closer to me

When Finnick first met her she was alone, even when she’s around people she isn’t really like them. All her fellow victors from her district are much older, she isn’t like the people in the Capitol…she is alone a lot. I also think Finnick views her in…not an innocent light but wholesome in how much she cares. And Finnick literally is close to her a LOT.

—

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago

I think there’s a big part of Finnick that views himself in star, at least at the start. There’s the same fear, same need to protect their families. For him it’s like looking in a mirror, one he’d rather not look at.

—

Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know

Eluding to the games, for Finnick he was apart of a career district he had a certain idea of the games that died as soon as he got there. I think the idea of “innocence died screaming” is referring to how they both had their innocence taken by both the games and the capitol.

—

I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

Idk how to say this but Finnick is fucking WIPPED. He just wants a single glance at star, just anything.

—

Babe

There's something wretched about this

Something so precious about this

Where to begin?

You can view this as the start of their relationship, something they have to hide, how they can’t truly belong to each other but there’s this innocent precious love they share.

_

Babe

There's something broken about this

But I might be hoping about this

Oh, what a sin

Again their love is kinda a tragic one but something they have a lot of hope in, despite it being against Capitol rules.

—

To the strand a picnic plan for you and me

A rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree

I mean…how many times has Finnick probably thought about killing snow for what he does to star?

—

Anyway I’m really sorry this is so long! I’m just obsessed!

You literally broke down my exact thought process when I added this song to the playlist

And don't apologize, I love when you guys rant in my inbox!!!

Here's a Lil sneak peak of chapter 15:

[diazheartsbuckley]

WIP Wednesday Thursday ✨

So I’ve not been doing great ™️ lately. I’ve been insanely busy and I haven’t been writing much because I’m indecisive as hell and didn’t know what to do. I’ve also really been doubting my own skills, so yeah it’s been… a ride.

ANYWAY, enough complaining! I’ve got a new wip going (shocking I know!), called the asthma fic in which a fight between Buck and Eddie leads Buck to have an asthma attack despite not having had one for years 🥴

A huge shoutout to @tizniz who helped me brain storm this fic 💕 and thank you to everyone who keeps tagging me, you’re much appreciated 💕

(Snippet and tags under cut)

Despite only sitting at an arm’s length, Buck feels like he’s a world away from Eddie. Normally the silence is comfortable, it’s safe and sometimes even wanted after a long shift. But right now, Buck is counting all of the many times that his parents did this to him. Didn’t want to deal with him and his feelings. He has to give up counting - there’s way too many times that he remembers and probably just as many that he’s forgotten all about. Expect his body hasn’t.

He traces the back of his hand, carefully picking at the skin as he swallows dryly, Eddie still not speaking. Eddie doesn’t say anything until they reach the main road. Buck doesn’t dare to be the one to break the silence, afraid of the consequences and the wrath that he without a doubt deserves.

“Buck, what the hell?” are the first words out of Eddie’s mouth. He doesn’t even turn his head to look at Buck but Buck is watching him carefully, his small mannerisms that indicates that this time Buck really fucked up.

Eddie’s jaw is locked tight, his nails are almost digging into the leather of the steering wheel and he’s shaking his head a little, shaking it in disapproval, Buck knows that much. “You can’t just…” Eddie takes a deep breath, wanting to get ahold of himself but all of the emotions and words inside his head are welling over, breaking the dam.

“You can’t just do shit like that, you know? You can’t just change plans without telling me about it. Especially not when it’s about Chris” He speaks.

Buck nods vaguely, not Eddie can see it anyway. He knows how much Christopher means to Eddie, that he will always be his first priority which is also totally reasonable. He just doesn't want this to be the thing that breaks them.

He can feel the tears brimming in his eyes, threatening to fall as the tightness in his chest increases and he coughs lightly, trying to shield Eddie from the fact that breathing is starting to become an ongoing struggle.

“I know, I’m sorry. I should have talked to you about it” Buck says and glances at Eddie who scoffs and pinches the bridge of his nose again. It reminds him a little too much of his father, ignoring him and walking away if he became too much to handle. They didn’t care. They were so busy mourning the son that they had lost that they forgot to nurture the one that was left. Maddie. Maddie was always there for him. She never gave up on him.

Tagged by @watchyourbuck @honestlydarkprincess @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @bucksbignaturals @theotherbuckley @cal-daisies-and-briars @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples 🩵 (consider this your tag for fuck it Friday)

Also tagging for fuck it Friday!! @disasterbuckdiaz @jeeyuns @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life @jesuisici33 @butraura @wikiangela @hippolotamus @steadfastsaturnsrings @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @monsterrae1 @evanbegins @vampbuckley @athenagranted @extasiswings @devirnis @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @buckbuckgoose @nmcggg @giddyupbuck @loserdiaz 🦋🩵

[ahfeiandhisdao]

WIP WEDNESDAY 🥂 : SLUMBER

Highly inspired by artwork of @carduelis-art :

Slumber : A Way of Affection Ch 1 part 1

Pairing : Di Feisheng/Li Lianhua

CW : Mention of trauma, Violent flashbacks

As usual, A-Fei was perched on the railing of Lotus tower's second floor. As much as he hated being in the out, in the noisy swirl of bustling streets, Li Lianhua was determined to keep his cover on. Hence the mask on his face, hence keeping a low profile. He briefly scanned the people hurrying around and then his eyes was stuck back to the tower owner bickering for five taels of silver.

A-Fei snorted, only in last month he showered the 'Physician Li' with ingots of silver and gold by merely doing some 'work'. And he was met with Lianhua's continuous nagging about how this would totally blow his cover and how that smart kid will figure it out Di Feisheng's identity and what not. As if the Tianji manor's young master had the understanding of complexity or ability to connect the dots. How many times was it that he got drugged and abandoned on roadside by Li Lianhua? It is, simply put, hilarious.

"A-Fei!" The annoying kid was shouting again. He was always breathing on Di Feisheng's neck, trying to get on his nerves and leard to a fist fight. Who knows what he was upto now.

"A-Fei, go buy some meat for us and ask the butcher to pack some bones for Hulijing." He threw a silver ingot at Di Feisheng who caught it with two fingers, mildly annoyed.

He wanted to target the kid's head and smash the ingot down but no, if he did that, Li Lianhua would nag and scold him for at least three months. He can accept Lianhua's nagging for a life time but nagging *about* Fang Duobing? He would rather drown in a cupful of water. (Lies.)

"Buy it yourself." He throws the ingot back, stood up from the rails and idly marched inside.

"How disrespectful!" He could hear Fang Duobing blabber a hundred things. It was only a matter of seconds before he would start yelling about complaining to Li Lianhua.

"How dare you treat me like that, you egomaniac! Wait until Li Lianhua gets home! I'll settle this score with you! You ungrateful prick-"

And there it was. He tuned the noise off on demand. Something that he learned to do when he was only six years old. Comes in handy to ignore all those big mouths upfront.

‘What I don't hear, can't bother me’.

The first day he stayed the night in the lotus tower, Li Lianhua tried to make him share a room with that spoiled brat. That was not going to happen. So he stayed the night up sitting on the makeshift roof biting the urge to claim the tower master's bed instead.

He won't say he never acted on it. He often stood in the doorway to the tower master's room. His silk underdress fluttering around, untied and barely draped on his back. He hated the feeling of the fabric on his chest when he slept. It's a constant reminder of something moving around, crawling under his skin. The cool breeze would comfort him better.

But he would see the man curling on bed, coughing the life energy away, how his disrupted meridians would be in a tornado of the poison's attempt to take over once world's best martial artist. Di Feisheng wanted to laugh, at the irony. Of the shared fate of the hero and the villain of the same story. (Contd.)

——————————————

OK SO IT'S THURSDAY ALREADY but I wanted to post anyway. Continued Here↓ 💋✊🏼

[monbons]

WIP Wednesday

Posting actual WIPS on a Wednesday? Imagine that.

As long as we are all baring our hearts on tumblr, I have to admit that I have been struggling to write anything since I wrapped up Eternal Life (back in the first week of April). At first I figured I was simply burnt out since I wrote all 42k words of that fic in just about a month, but given that I've started three separate WIPS since then and made zero progress on any of them, I'm wondering if I am just out of stories. I hate all my words--even though I really love some of these concepts. So, as you may have noticed, I've been distracting myself with sewing projects because good progress is so clearly visible there...

Anywho, to motivate myself, I decided to post a snip of each today and hope that having bits out in the world will motivate me to finish at least ONE of them! All untitled. Set up and snips below the cut.

Very creatively titled "Party Robot," this WIP is a silly/fluffy one-shot inspired by an article I read a while ago about a growing trend in American weddings. This one is the furthest along and will likely see the light of day eventually...

A nervous bounce.  From a robot. I recognize that bounce. “I thought you said Shepard was working tonight.” My voice is tight. “He is.” Bunce replies, similarly strained. “What did you say he does again?” Panic rises in my chest.  “He’s in entertain–”  Whether Bunce trails off or I simply don’t hear the rest is irrelevant because the music has changed from easy dinner instrumentals to much-too-loud techno and the show is clearly starting. As the synths build, driving towards a crescendo, my brain reels with the growing realisation that Simon would never just abandon me at the last minute, would never send me anywhere alone, certainly not my cousin’s gay wedding, which is every kind of milestone given his Old Families lineage and Pitch blood specifically and– “PARTY PEOPLE!” The DJ booms into the mic. “Have the grooms got a treat for you!”

A multi-chapter AU I have lovingly nicknamed "Baz in a Bubble." It is sad and angsty and is proving significantly more difficult to execute (despite having a complete outline) than I once thought it would be. Who could have guessed having one home-bound character would make me too sad to write? Thanks to @thewholelemon and @hushed-chorus who've listened to more than their fair share of my griping about this one. Anyway, here's the first bit of BAZ POV:

There are exactly 297 stars in the sky above me. I count them while lying in my bed every night. They do not twinkle or flicker hello like real stars. Instead, they glow a constant yellowish-green that reminds me of the colour artists always make toxic sludge in the cartoons I grew up watching. It's the colour of superhuman villains and their evil plots. Of poison. Of danger. It's the colour of the plastic star stickers Fiona put up on my ceiling when I was 10 and spent the whole year crying and begging her to go outside. Just once. Just for a minute. Because I was starting to forget what fresh air smelled like or how it felt to have grass prickle against your bare feet or how the stars lit up the night sky in Hampshire. There are no stars in the middle of London. Not outside my window. Not in this room.

And then the WIP I have the least progress on (literally almost nothing) but I so desperately want to write and could really use a thought partner to help me brainstorm/plot/figure out what the hell I'm doing--- a canon divergence where Simon successfully exposes Baz as a vamp and Malcolm steps the fuck up as a father. Here's a bit of Simon POV:

It didn't matter anyway. Pitch Manor was empty. While [the Mage] ranted and raved, I wandered into Baz’s living room. The TV was still on. Peppa the Pig was playing. A half-dressed Barbie was splayed on the couch next to a small bowl of grapes, all cut in half. I picked up the doll and brushed her tangled hair out of her face.  Why didn’t I know Baz had a sister? A family that ate snacks together in front of the TV? Parents who loved him so dearly they fled their whole lives under cover of night? In the days that followed, I sat in meeting after meeting with the Coven, listening to The Mage. He demanded the casting of tracking spells, pushed through more dark creature reforms, and rambled about the miscarriage of justice and the dangers of harbouring monsters.  But Baz wasn’t a monster.  He was just a boy.  A scared boy.  A boy who ran because he wanted to live. 

Anyway...here's to accountability via tumblr. Maybe once I've slept for several weeks and feel more refreshed I won't be so frustrated by every word I know, or more precisely, all the beautiful ones I can’t seem to find…

Thanks for the tag @bookish-bogwitch. Cannot wait to devour the new chapter of BPD!

Hellos and high-fives to all. May your words (and art) be faring better than mine: @raenestee, @cutestkilla, @roomwithanopenfire, @facewithoutheart

@emeryhall, @artsyunderstudy, @aristocratic-otter, @larkral, @rimeswithpurple

@drowninginships, @valeffelees, @shrekgogurt, @blackberrysummerblog, @iamamythologicalcreature

@run-for-chamo-miles, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @arthurkko, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold

@beastmonstertitan, @supercutedinosaurs, @rbkzz, @fiend-for-culture, @theearlgreymage

@brilla-brilla-estrellita, @skeedelvee, @ic3-que3n, @talentpiper11, @ivelovedhimthroughworse

[belovedstill]

Hi! I saw that you're doing ask game asks again (and i do want to hear about a random wip so have a heart ❤️❤️) and that reminded me of the next ask game you did and the fic you teased. (It was something about LBH returning to QJP instead of HHP and watching SQQ grief) is that still being written? (I'm not up to date so I really have no idea what the current status is. It just sounded really interesting)

!!!! hi! yes, i'm still writing it, thank you for sending the heart about it 💕🥺 (also i'm so '!!!' that you remembered it?) the idea you've mentioned comes from this post by @fairsweetlonging (with an addition from @happypeachsludgeflower), so i'm really only playing with some of their ideas and putting them together in a fic format (and if new things happen, new things happen). i didn't know anybody paid attention to my tags so i was only poking at the fic from time to time, just for myself

so far, there are two bits that i especially love about this wip. i'm still at the point where binghe has just come to qing jing, found shen qingqiu at the sword mound, and brought him into the bamboo house. the way i'm approaching this idea is that binghe's come back to check on sqq not for revenge, but to take one last look at his home, he's still very conflicted there. i took it in this direction because a ficlet i had in my drafts (that i will also finish/polish up one day and probably post first) starts at the same point as this wip starts, but binghe is painfully aware that there's no 'home' waiting for him anymore and so doesn't return. the lack or drive for revenge might change during rewriting, i'll see where it takes me!

anyway, one of the bits is binghe feeling very bitter because he comes into the bamboo house early in the morning, hiding his presence, only to find shizun's bed empty and two (!) tea cups left on shizun's table 😅 uh oh.

and the second bit is here in this snippet that i enjoy rereading and poking at, it's binghe getting ready to transfer some qi to sqq after his near(?) deviation and having some bittersweet reflections:

Back then, he'd found himself thinking, so what that [Shen Qingqiu's and Liu Qingge's] qi had been compatible? Luo Binghe had wished oh so very hard that his energy had been just as in tune with his master's, if not more! More compatible! And he would have given Shizun all of it! Now he knew that Shizun had made the right choice in refusing his offers. Transferring all one's qi into the body of another person would harm both the giver and the recipient. It wouldn't have mattered if Binghe had been hurt, but if Shizun—when Binghe had just been trying to help— He’d have never forgiven himself for it.

there are more, but i feel like if i share more right now, my brain will get all 'okay, story's told, time to move on!'

send me a ❤️️ for a wip-related ramble

[suzukiblu]

Winner of the "👾❓" poll: 🐦💗🐈‍⬛, which is a new AU/WIP I started recently that we're calling "stray cat strut". All you need to know is it is VERY wildly AU and not remotely superheroism-focused, but the Batfam is still a thing and the Superfam is NOT still a thing. Also it's the one y'all voted to be Timberkon, lol. Or, like, WILL be Timberkon. Once Tim and Bernard actually, you know, find out Kon exists and all. Funnily enough, this WIP won like three of the "what to work on?" polls out of the set of them that I'm currently queuing up, despite me never actually mentioning it before said polls went up or identifying it past including a reference to cats in some way, hahaha. ( possibly everyone just assumed it was more CrypTim after the "kitten" thing happened last installment; possibly that's a reasonable assumption all around, hah. )

Tim is sick to death of charity events, but today he's at a charity event. The third one this month, for the record. 

This is absolutely Dick's fault, because Bruce is busy socializing with the other donors and Jason's not an option and would be too “dead” even if he were and Cass and Steph are running a mission for Babs and Duke is just a weird enough person to be able to just say “no” and actually get listened to about it and also, obviously, Tim and Damian hate each other, so Dick was supposed to be the one doing this. 

Dick, unfortunately, got punched in the face on patrol last night and cannot show up to a public event for a charity that the Wayne Foundation is donating to with a black eye and a split lip. Especially not one happening in broad daylight with a bunch of people with cameras all over the most pretentiously-landscaped park in Gotham. Ivy dreams of tearing up all the paved paths and fountains here and reseeding the whole place with native plants, Tim is sure. 

Unfortunately, she’s not currently doing that and Dick, again, got punched in the face, so Tim is still stuck at this event in a grudgingly tailored polo shirt and khaki slacks that cost as much as his last set of upgrades to his bike, because god forbid anyone show up to a Gotham society event in anything that wasn’t stupidly expensive. He is not ending up on Gotham’s latest “worst dressed’ list over a stupid polo shirt, of all things. 

So now Tim is stuck in the middle of another annoying charity event with the sibling he is least capable of getting along with, because Duke knows how to say “no” and be listened to and he does not, and Dick is too bruisable, and someone needs to make sure Damian isn’t gonna make a scene at said event. Mind, Damian doesn't actually need anyone to “translate” his manners. The kid's lived in Gotham since he was ten and didn’t exactly show up unprepared; he knows its high society etiquette backwards and forwards. 

He just doesn't give a shit about it, so Tim’s gonna be smoothing ruffled feathers all day no matter what. 

Admittedly, this specific charity event is for a nonprofit pet rescue center that recently opened downtown–“Paradise Rescue”, according to the invites and the branding that’s all over the park right now–so Damian isn't as likely as usual to offend anyone. But also, someone might annoy him or be a dick to one of the pets in front of him, so Tim's here anyway. 

Damian's eighteen next year, Tim reminds himself. No one can make him babysit a damn adult, no matter what. 

. . . he really hopes no one can do that. Probably literally everything about the way he ended up joining this damn family in the first place is a bad sign for that, in retrospect. And just . . . everything about Robin. Just all of it. 

Dammit. 

No wonder he can’t get away with saying “no” in these situations. It’s probably, like, karma or whatever. 

[smgryufied]

⟢ Hero(e)s complex

pairing/s: Samantha Giddings/Michael Munroe, one sided Jess/Matt (mentioned)

warnings: ooc mike, smut in chapter 2 wip

words: 1265

chapters: 1 | 2

Sam and Michael greet each other at the desk while all their friends are in their respective hospital beds. Mike still struggles with a hero complex after the events, so he wants to make up for not being able to save Sam last night. There's always other nights.

Sam put her elbows on the counter and sucked her lips inwards as she waited for a nurse, or anyone at this point, to come and guide her to her own room.

After all, she's been nursing her own friends, it's only fair for her to be a little impatient, right?

She taps her feet, growing more and more impatient by the second. Mike, sitting on one of the four chairs near the counter, notices this and glances at her. His eyebrows go up in shock as he notices all the open wounds, burns, and bruises on Sam's side profile and the rest of her body. The adrenaline and trauma finally wore down a little bit, enough for him to notice this. He gets up to stand beside her.

He clicks his tongue, "Still no luck?". She shakes her head "Nope," as the tapping of her feet becomes faster. Her heart pounds faster and her mind races even more.

Wanting to help, Mike stares at one noticeably large burn on Sam's arm for a few seconds, "There's some bandages in Jess' room if you want to patch those up while the nurses are off to god knows what," he offers. Sam's movements stop as she glances at Mike, opening her mouth to say something, but she shakes the thought away and shakes her head a "no".

"You sure?" Mike persists. "Yeah, I wouldn't wanna disturb her beauty sleep," she remarks, "It's been one hell of a night". Mike gives her an annoyed expression, not to her though, but more to what she said about not wanting to disturb Jessica. "I don't mind," he says, "She broke up with me anyway," before walking away to head off to Jessica's room.

Sam sighs as he takes off. Even after everything that happened, he still is stubborn. Perfect definition of a himbo if he wasn't so smart in school.

Thinking about what Mike said about patching up, Sam looks at her hands and notices all the results of that night, only then does she feel the pain.

She starts to feel a breeze on her bicep and without looking, she tries to put her palm on the area but winces as soon as her finger comes in contact with the large open wound, making her look.

Mike, heading towards her, narrows his eyes at the wound and looks back at her, "Did you try to patch it up with your hand?" he says sarcastically. "I didn't know it was there," Sam answers. Mike gives her a confused expression, "You didn't know a large chunk of flesh was missing from your arm?" Mike asks while he rolls the small bandage around her arm. It'll have to do. The question made Sam shrug. "Adrenaline must've hit you hard, huh?" he jokes. "Haha, yeah, maybe I should've hit you hard with that shovel then," Sam remarks as they both laugh.

It reminded Mike of something, it reminded him of that night. He doesn't know how, but it managed to escape from his memory briefly, and he preferred it that way, but it also reminded him how Sam saved his ass from that wendigo, and the others too from burning that goddamn house down. He sighs in relief from the thought, "I don't think I ever thanked you properly for that," he trails off and starts thinking again. Sam looks up at him when she noticed that he stopped rolling the bandage.

"You don't have to, it's a favor, and besides, it's a life we're talking about here, your life, Mike," Sam attempts to reassure him, making him pause his train of thought. "Yeah.. you know it's just.. I never really got the chance to save you from a near-death experience," Mike goes on, "even in the end, you were the one who saved me from getting my head bit off by the wendigo in that cabin".

Sam furrows her eyebrows in a concerned look and Mike takes notice of this too. "Sorry," he says and starts wrapping the bandage again, "I developed some sort of um," he laughs at what he thinks is a ridiculous thought, "hero.. complex or something".

Sam holds Mike's hand that had the bandages in hand and finishes the job herself. "You don't have to save everyone, even though you did, with that light bulb action back in the cabin," she looks up at Mike as she says that. As she finishes covering the wound, she looks for a pair of scissors to cut the extra but Mike just rips it. It hurt, but Sam doesn't mind. She turns her back to the counter and Mike does the same. "You were a hero, Mike, stop downsizing yourself. We can both be heroes," Sam speaks up, "You don't have to save everyone in order to call yourself one".

They both smile at each other then Sam's eyes drift away to Jessica's door as it opens, revealing Matt getting out. Sam lifts one eyebrow, making Mike turn, but he looks back not long after. Matt, walking towards the bathroom behind the duo, makes a small wave aimed mainly towards Sam, while Mike just stares. Sam turns her head as her eyes still follow Matt until he's out of sight, then she looks at Mike again.

"So the break-up was." she says. He shrugs "Fuck if I know. They were stuck together after I left her in that elevator 'cause I thought she was fucking dead," Mike blurts out. Sam nods slowly. "I tried the best I could to save her, you know... I didn't leave her on purpose, but she doesn't know that, and now look at the knight in bloody shitty armor". The comment on the armor made Sam observe Mike. He wasn't wearing that denim jacket anymore, she wonders where he left it. Instead, he was left in this sleeveless white, also bloody, shirt that he was wearing underneath it, revealing how much time he spends in the gym. That's one thing he can commit to, maybe the only one.

The silence made Mike sigh in exasperation, the pain relievers he took could only deal with the physical pain after all. Other drugs could've solved the other kind though.

They stood like this for a while, to others, they're standing in silence, to them, it's so loud that they can't even hear the source of the noise, aka their mind, properly. They barely got any sleep except a short nap they took while waiting around for the past couple hours. The silence is far from awkward, but it made Sam courageous enough to speak. "It's not too late, you know". Mike looked at her expecting more words to come out but Sam just stood still, staring at the wall in front of them with her arms crossed. "Not too late for what?" he asks.

"To repay me," she says.

The way Sam looked at him made Mike instantly know what she was talking about. Mike would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it since that night. The tension they had together then was undeniable after all. Like a tandem. A couple of people who knew each other's mind like it was their own.

No need for spoken words if they can just know, they can just feel. Like what they're doing right now. No one spoke a word about it, but they just knew. It's like they were made for each other. No wonder all Mike's past relationships never lasted. It used to gross Sam out until that one night changed their fucking friendship.

[larkral]

Oh, hi. Good news: I am not dead. Bad news: my spirit is perhaps just a little bit dead. Thanks @shrekgogurt and @hushed-chorus for the tags! And to everyone else who's been tagging me over the past while.

I've been too busy dealing with school's bullshit about my daughter's behavior for the past (checks watch) six weeks to have any energy to write. But! Last night I wrote 230 words for the epilogue of my Check Please fic!

Anyway, I've been feeling very much like the amalgamation of Natalie and Zadie in Finally, (already, always) that I'll be honest, I've always known I was writing them as. For a snippet of my life, please read the two following snippets from that WIP:

Natalie:

Simon's teachers call us up to say he's a nuisance in class, but they can never say what he's done. Is he loud? (No.) Does he throw things? (No.) Has he hit anyone? (No.) Does he speak out of turn? (No.) No, no, no. He's just a nuisance, Mrs. Stephenson-Shaw. (Ms. Shaw, actually.) He's disruptive. He has to go to the office. He's risking expulsion. He's seven. Just a boy. Thin shoulders, long back, freckles, blue eyes and a smile. A tumble of energy and adoration and enthusiasm. He's my Simon. He's stories by the window, and sitting on the floor next to his bed stroking his back as he falls asleep. He's chasing after ducks in the park, climbing trees, and an overwhelming enthusiasm for knights and dragons.  I love him every way I can find. Every day I find more. I'm spilling over with love for him and aside from Zadie, no one seems to be able to see it: the things we love. The ways he's loveable.

Zadie:

I wonder if he might have seemed trustworthy. If he'd been subtle, if he'd been politic, would I have seen the monster as readily?  "We will talk with Simon about it. And we can tour the school. And if he's interested, then we'll consider it." He purses his lips. "A tour will be difficult," he says. "It is impossible for a non-magical person to enter the gates of Watford." Of course. Well, it's as good a demand as any to finish the conversation with. "Well then, I suggest that you find a way to let prospective and current students' parents visit the school, or the answer will definitely be no." I stand up and start towards the door. Nat stands and starts down the stairs. We fall in together, present a united front as I usher to David Cadwallader out of our home.  "I'll be in touch ," he says.

<3 to everyone and tags under the cut

@stitchyqueer @thewholelemon @confused-bi-queer @raenestee @facewithoutheart @cutestkilla @hushed-chorus @sillyunicorn @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @basiltonbutliketheherb @ileadacharmedlife @asocialpessimist @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @captain-aralias @petedavidsonscock @takitalks @artsyunderstudy @yeonjunenby @carryonvisinata @takenabackbytuesdays @martsonmars @nausikaaa @nightimedreamersghost @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ionlydrinkhotwater @that-disabled-princess @shrekgogurt @forabeatofadrum  @palimpsessed @fatalfangirl​ @blackberrysummerblog​ @valeffelees @imagineacoolusername @orange-peony @j-nipper-95 @whogaveyoupermission @wellbelesbian @rimeswithpurple @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @mooncello @monbons @run-for-chamo-miles

[underacalicosky]

DELIGHTED by the news you're considering a Harpy ch 2!!! But also. I have to pick stickers. I can't not.

Hello there!! 👋 Thanks for asking about the Stickers fic! ❤️❤️❤️ (From this ask about my WIPs) We've talked before about the idea that Obi-Wan would give Anakin stickers for good behavior. Like, when he's 22. As one does. And maybe if Obi-Wan had given Anakin a sticker before he left for Utapau, ROTS would've ended very differently. I suppose we'll never know...

But anyways. Stickers. It starts when Anakin arrives at the Temple. Right after he goes to the dentist for the first time:

He squats so that he’s eye level with Anakin.

“You can peel them off and stick them onto other things,” Obi-Wan explains. “Would you like me to show you?”

Anakin nods again.

Obi-Wan holds out his palm and Anakin gives him one of the tooka cat stickers. Bending the corner of the flimsy sheet, he separates the sticker from the backing and slowly peels it off. With a smile, he shows Anakin the adhesive backside.

With wide eyes, Anakin watches as his Master presses it onto his cream-colored Padawan tunic, a little under his shoulder, next to his heart.

“There,” Obi-Wan says, patting it. “You can wear it all day.”

Before he’s done speaking, Anakin’s already peeled it off his tunic and is attempting to restick it.

“Well, you’ll want to leave it,” Obi-Wan tells him. “If you keep fussing with it, it’ll lose its stickiness.”

In the time it takes for them to leave the dentist’s office and walk to where their speeder is parked, the sticker is no longer sticky.

“Master, it keeps falling off,” Anakin whines.

“Anakin, I told you to leave it alone or it wouldn’t be sticky anymore,” Obi-Wan says.

By the time they’re walking into their living quarters, Anakin’s lost the first tooka cat sticker and the second one is rapidly losing its stickiness.

“Why don’t you save the last one for tomorrow?” Obi-Wan suggests.

“I’m going to keep it forever,” Anakin says, holding the last sticker reverently in his small hands. “So it can always remind me that I was good.”

There's still a lot that I need to write. And if I'm honest, I don't know how it ends, which has been the main reason why it's been on hold. BUT, I really do want to finish this fic at some point because it makes me giggle and I love this idea so much.

Thank you for this ask! ❤️