#but who knows? not us. we don't get to see it

[travelers-ward]

Thinking about Krile.

Krile, who woke up one day from a coma to find that she was alone in the world. Who lost her home, her colleagues, her friends, the legacy of her grandfather, all in an instant. Who found out that the gift that she'd cursed for half her life saved her, and no one else. Who thought that maybe, at least her childhood friend and her dearest friend, both in distant Eorzea, might be safe and alive. Who received nothing but silence from either of them. And found out one day, months later, years later, that neither of them were ever coming back.

Krile, who continued on more alone in the world than ever before with nothing but a smile.

(Krile, who we didn't even get to see take a moment to hear about or process the fact that G'raha shut himself in a tower to sleep maybe forever without so much as a goodbye.)

(Krile, who learned that her dearest friend Minfilia was gone forever and simply carried on with a smile because there was work to be done. Much like Minfilia carried on with a smile when she heard her dearest friend Krile was in a coma. Because there was work to do. And to think, Minfilia never got to find out that Krile was all right.)

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless: Just friends?

Lee Know x fem!reader

Warnings: language, suggestive content MDNI

Genre: friends with benefits to lovers, fluff

Summary: You and Minho used to be friends with benefits. Until you caught feelings, and you both called it off. But Minho obviously misses you and is miserable even though he doesn't want to admit it. And his brothers have had enough of his moping.

Clueless Masterlist

The arrangement with Minho had been perfect - or at least it had started that way. Opposite apartments on the same floor of your nice apartment building. You’d text each other, and within minutes, someone was at the other’s door. No strings, no drama. Just a lot of heat that left you breathless and a little sore the next day.

Until, of course, you did the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do - you caught feelings.

And naturally, Minho, emotionally stunted and a menace to society, panicked. He started pulling away, making excuses every time you asked if he wanted to come over. The warmth in his teasing dimmed into something guarded.

And it hurt. A lot. His rejection wasn't something you had expected, because no matter what anyone said, he was so soft and sweet to you. But he obviously didn't want a relationship, and you both decided to stop seeing each other.

You missed him. Not just his touch, but everything else too. The way he always brought food over (making excuses about how he had extra), held you tight when you had a hard day and how his cats lived with you more than they did with him. Oh you missed the cats. They were literally your kids - and this dirty divorce had given him full custody of them.

And Minho? He was a mess. Not that he’d admit it.

And Jisung had had about enough of his best friend and his brooding.

---

Jisung: OKAY EVERYONE STOP.

Chan: What's up?

Hyunjin: What did you do?

Jisung: NOTHING. THIS IS ABOUT MINHO.

Seungmin: What did he do?

Jisung: He’s been moping for WEEKS. And I'm sick of it.

Changbin: You sure? That’s just his face.

Jisung: LISTEN. IT’S ABOUT Y/N.

Hyunjin: Ohhhhhh.

Felix: I KNEW IT.

Minho: What the hell is going on?

Jisung: OH LOOK WHO DECIDED TO SHOW UP. Jisung: YOU, SIR, ARE A DRAMA QUEEN.

---

Minho sighed. This was the last thing he needed right now.

---

Minho: I’m not moping.

Felix: Sure. And I’m not Australian.

Hyunjin: Yeah, totally not glaring at your phone at all.

Minho: It’s not about her.

Jeongin: Are you sure you didn't accidentally click her name in your contacts 12 times yesterday?

Chan: What's going on, Min?

Minho: I don't even know what you guys are going on about!

Minho: We were friends. With benefits. Not lovers. She was nice in bed. That’s it.

---

There was complete silence in the chat for a minute before it exploded.

---

Chan: No, Minho. No. No. No.

Seungmin: Okay, first of all, what the actual fuck?

Hyunjin: Bro, you did not just say that.

Jisung: YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING LOSER.

Changbin: 😡

Jeongin: Hyung, she's an angel, how could you?

Felix: We’re literally trying to save you from yourself.

Minho: Well don't.

---

Minho hated himself. He absolutely hated himself. But he couldn't dwell on the self hate because Jisung just sent a video of Minho pacing his living room like a caged animal, while ranting about you being gone.

---

Hyunjin: Wow. Ok.

Minho: 🙄

Minho: Stop. Just stop.

Chan: Look, you’re obviously miserable. Why not just talk to her?

Seungmin: Yeah, genius. It’s not like she doesn’t live 20 feet away.

Minho: What if she doesn’t feel the same?

Jeongin: I'm sorry, but you’re an idiot.

Hyunjin: Dude. She liked you enough to start this whole thing. You just have to get over your dumb commitment issues.

Changbin: Honestly, just confess. Worst-case scenario, you cry into Dori.

Minho: I hate you all.

Jisung: Hate is a strong word for someone who’s about to sob into his cat.

Minho: Fine. I’ll talk to her.

---

Minho sat on his couch, heart pounding as he stared at your number on his phone. He’d been backed into a corner by his idiot friends, and now there was no escape.

And knowing you, he had a feeling that this was going to be the single most difficult task ever.

With a frustrated groan, he stood and grabbed his hoodie. He was going to do this. Because he loved you so much, and he was miserable without you.

Across the hall, in your apartment, you were getting some work done, sipping on coffee. You heard the doorbell, and when you opened the door, you saw Minho - disheveled, nervous, and yet, as handsome as ever. And your traitorous heart did that stupid thing it always did around him.

“Hey,” he said softly, eyes meeting yours. “Can we talk?”

Minho hadn’t been this nervous in a long time. He stood at your doorstep, heart racing, and palms sweaty, his usual confidence nowhere to be seen.

And he confessed. Nothing dramatics. Just a straightforward, “I love you.”

You'd stared at him as if trying to figure out if he was high. Or had hit his head somewhere. Or if he was simply horny.

But no. Then came his little speech. I know I don't deserve you. I was an asshole (of course he was). I was afraid (as if you weren't). And more than anything - I hurt you. And I hate myself for it. Ok now that you could work with.

But as hard as you tried, sometimes you just couldn't contain that bratty side of you (one that he apparently loved).

You crossed your arms, glaring at him like he’d just run over your dog.

“You can’t just waltz over here, say ‘I love you,’ and expect me to fall into your arms,” you snapped, looking infuriatingly hot with your brows furrowed and your lips pursed in defiance. “You rejected me, Minho. Do you know much that hurt me?”

His stomach twisted.

“I… I wasn’t ready -” he stuttered, looking terrified.

“Yeah, well, now I’m not ready,” you said, taking a step back and slamming the door in his face for dramatic effect.

You leaned against the door, fuming and freaking out all together. Your hands shook so hard as you wrapped your head around the fact that Minho just confessed to you and you slammed the door on his face.

And Minho stood in the hallway, a mix of shock, frustration, and - God help him - arousal bubbling under the surface. You were bratty when you were mad, of course. It made him want to kiss you and throttle you all at once.

---

Minho: She hates me.

Hyunjin: No, she doesn't. She slammed the door on your face didn't she?

Minho: How the hell are you so accurately right?

Jeongin: It's his thing.

Felix: What happened?

Jisung: Wait. Did you confess?

Minho: YES.

Minho: AND SHE SLAMMED THE DOOR IN MY FACE.

Hyunjin: Obviously.

Chan: So she didn’t say no?

Jisung: LMFAO.

Jeongin: She’s mad at you? Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

Minho: SHE SAID A SIMPLE “I LOVE YOU” WOULDN’T WORK ON HER. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!

Seungmin: It means she’s not an idiot.

Changbin: Exactly. You rejected her and took months to realize you’re in love. She deserves a little groveling.

Minho: GROVELING?

Felix: Oh, for sure.

---

He was not groveling. No way. Lee Minho didn't grovel. Hell no.

---

Jisung: Yeah, buddy. You gotta pull out all the stops now. Dinner, flowers, interpretive dance. The works.

Minho: STOP.

Hyunjin: Actually, the dance idea is kinda sexy. Imagine Minho doing a hip roll to apologize.

Felix: STOP IT. I’M WHEEZING.

Minho: CAN YOU ALL BE SERIOUS FOR TWO SECONDS?!

Chan: Look, the point is, you hurt her feelings. You need to show her that you’re serious.

Minho: How?! She's a damn brat. She enjoys torturing me.

Jisung: If she’s a brat, she’s gonna want to see you sweat.

Minho: She frustrates me.

Jisung: So you're sure you're just frustrated and not turned on right now?

---

Damn Jisung.

---

Jeongin: YAHHHH

Felix: You’re INTO IT???

Changbin: My man’s in love AND down bad.

Minho: Please.

Felix: Okay, focus. If groveling isn’t your style, do something you.

Hyunjin: Yeah. Seduce her with your weird cat boy energy or whatever.

Minho: You’re all useless.

Seungmin: Says the man who just admitted to being horny and clueless.

Chan: Minho, she clearly wants you to prove yourself. You’ve got to show her you’re willing to put in effort.

Hyunjin: Write her a song. Serenade her. Cry through it.

Minho: I don’t cry.

Jisung: LIES. I’ve seen you cry at those pet videos.

Minho: JISUNG YOU'RE DEAD.

Minho: What if she never forgives me?

Jeongin: She will. She’s just mad. Just play along.

Hyunjin: He’s right. Drama makes us hotter.

Minho: You're all insane 🙄

Chan: Insane but not wrong. Now, go apologize properly.

---

Minho paced his living room, his mind racing through ideas - romantic dinner? A heartfelt speech? Maybe just tossing himself at your feet and begging?

He needed a plan.

---

Minho: Fine. Give me ideas to make her forgive me.

Jisung: OHOHOHOHOHO.

Felix: Oh, this is gonna be good.

Hyunjin: Okay, everyone, let’s brainstorm.

Changbin: Classic dinner and flowers. Can’t go wrong.

Jisung: No, no. She’s mad. You need to go BIG. Like, dramatic big.

Minho: Like what? Fall to my knees in the rain?

Hyunjin: YES. Bonus points if you sob.

Minho: I’m not doing that.

Seungmin: You’re all useless. Look, Minho, she’s mad because you hurt her. You need to make her feel special. Do something that shows you actually care.

Jisung: STRIPTEASE.

Chan: Jisung.

Felix: WAIT. THAT’S ACTUALLY KIND OF FUNNY.

Hyunjin: Picture this. You show up at her door, music playing, and just start taking things off.

Minho: I want to win her back. Not make her think I'm horny.

Jisung: Coward.

---

Obviously he knew this would happen. He knew it.

---

Chan: Okay, let’s regroup. Minho, what does she like?

Minho: Being mad at me, apparently.

Jeongin: Sounds like she has taste.

Minho: She likes reading. And baking. And…dancing.

Felix: Aha! Bake her something!

Hyunjin: And while it’s baking, do a little dance. Shirtless.

Jisung: OOOH. Combine the ideas. Show up with baked goods and then do the striptease.

Minho: Oh my God.

Seungmin: You could apologize like a normal person, you know.

Felix: Where’s the fun in that?

Jisung: No, no. We need something iconic.

Felix: Okay, serious suggestion: Show her that you actually listened to her. Her favorite food? Or something thoughtful that shows you care about what she likes.

Minho: Like…?

Hyunjin: Cook her favorite meal.

Chan: Or bring her flowers that mean something.

Jisung: Or do the striptease.

Minho: STOP WITH THE STRIPTEASE.

Felix: It’s not a bad idea, you know. Women love confidence.

Minho: I’ll do the cooking idea. But if this backfires, I'm gonna hunt each one of you down and then see what happens.

Jisung: Lies. You’ll be back to cry about it.

---

Minho got to work. He spent hours perfecting your favorite meal, rehearsing his apology in front the mirror, and trying not to think about how much he wanted to kiss you. God, he just wanted to cuddle you and tell you how much his life sucked without you in it.

When he finally knocked on your door, you opened it to find him standing there, holding so many containers of food and looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“Hi,” he said, voice soft. “Can I come in?”

You crossed your arms, and sighed.

"Minho, I really don't have the time-"

"I made your favorite," he said, holding up the containers. "And I will grovel if that's what it takes."

You did love it when he cooked for you.

“This better be good.”

Minho stood in your living room, wringing his hands as you sat on the couch, glaring at him. He set the food on the coffee table and looked at you, his sharp tongue failing him for once.

“I was afraid,” he finally said, voice low.

“Afraid of what? Being happy?” You asked, arching an eyebrow.

Minho winced.

“Yes. No. I mean…God, I don’t know. You’re everything to me, okay? And I was scared I’d ruin it. And then I did ruin it, and now I’m standing here like an idiot, begging you to let me fix it.”

“You… you really mean that?” You asked, your voice softer now, your eyes obviously filling up with tears.

“I’ve been a mess without you. I love you and I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it, but I do. I love you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes proving it to you.” he whispered, and you sighed, standing up and stepping closer to him.

“You’re such a dumbass, you know that?”

“Yeah, I've been told.”

And then he cupped your cheeks with his hands and kissed you. Rough and messy, the tension melting away as your arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“You better not mess this up.” you muttered against his lips.

“Not a chance.”

---

Minho: We’re trying the relationship thing.

Felix: OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!!

Hyunjin: FINALLY.

Jisung: Thank you 🙏

Changbin: Congrats, lover boy.

Chan: Proud of you, Minho.

Felix: Did she like the food?

Minho: Um, it kinda went cold. She’s heating it up now.

Hyunjin: LMAO.

Jisung: What about the striptease? Did you do it?

Minho: 🙄🙄🙄

Jisung: ANSWER THE QUESTION, COWARD.

Minho: We did strip. So… hehe.

Felix: SIR.

Hyunjin: NOT THE “HEHE.”

Jisung: I CAN’T BREATHE.

Changbin: YOU DOG.

Chan: Minho, for the love of God.

Minho: You asked.

Jisung: My dude really said, “She forgave me, and then we got NAKED.” ICONIC.

Jeongin: Please. I just came here to see if Minho hyung was still single, and now I want to bleach my brain.

Chan: Can we not, for once, be so feral?

Hyunjin: You’re in the wrong chat for that, Christopher.

Jisung: Anyway, so… did you, like, destroy the house or… ?

Minho: I will never speak to any of you again.

Jisung: YOU CAN’T JUST DROP “WE STRIPPED” AND THEN LEAVE.

Felix: It’s called a cliffhanger, Ji. Let the man be mysterious.

Hyunjin: Yeah, mysterious about how whipped he is.

Felix: Totally

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @hanadulsetaad

[genderqueerdykes]

just kind of throwing this at your wall, sorry in advance. saw the post about "kill all men" and got really upset

im a trans guy. my boyfriend is cis, and im the first guy hes dated before. (sees me fully as whatever i want to be, does not care about my gender expression and loves me for me. great guy). he doesnt have many friends from being asocial as a teenager, so most of his friends are my trans friends!

of course. like every trans group seems to fall prey to, theres always the "all [CIS] men are bad" conversation that comes up somehow. and i never really thought much of it, because in my head itd be "ah yeah all men Except My Boyfriend"

but he and i were talking after some drinks, and he made a point that really struck me. about how he doesn't like being The Exception to the point, that he's still a man and has no interest in being anything But a man. so when people say stuff like that, he gets uncomfortable; not because He IS The Problem (like everyone who gives the "if youre saying not all men, youre the men" argument) but because it makes him feel ostracized from everyone. and idk, it really struck me.

we say stuff like that way too often in an attempt to exclude certain groups of people; and i feel like we end up excluding people close to us by proxy.

thanks for listening

i really appreciate you for taking the time to send this. i've been meaning to talk about this and have been forgetting. the following is of course not directed at you, anon, it is directed at people who behave like this

you're not feminist, progressive, cool, pro-queer rights or funny for saying "kill all men". you are exposing that you are a violent and dangerous person for believing that people should be profiled and literally killed for their gender or PERCEIVED gender.

this doesn't make people like you more. it outs you as a danger. how do we know you won't turn that hatred toward women whenever you feel like changing the goalposts? i can't trust someone like that to not turn that hatred toward other genders, either. YOU are the dangerous person you are profiling men as. you can't use men as a scapegoat for everything. sometimes YOU are the violent person who needs help.

your boyfriend shouldn't have to feel like that. like people have never really cared about gay men but people just straight up gave up all pretenses that they do and i hate it. cis men are not inherently evil. cis men can still be queer. cis men can still be good people. your boyfriend shouldn't have to feel isolated because he's cis. that's profiling. he belongs. why do people assume that everyone with a partner who is a man hates them? not everyone is choosing to be in a relationship with someone they hate. i understand that some people will date someone no matter who just to have a partner so they're not lonely, but not everyone does this. some people genuinely love their boyfriends

i'm sorry you both have dealt with this. i hope things can improve because men don't deserve to feel like this. this is why toxic masculinity exists in the first place. we have to stop reinforcing that men are evil monsters. they won't stop believing that if we keep telling them that forever. stay safe. your boyfriend is not a bad person & deserves to have a wonderful life.

[dilf-docs]

Hand To Heart (I'm Gonna Stay Faithful)

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: a pregnancy scare makes you realize just how deep you are in this.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., pregnancy scare, fingering (WE GET IT U LIKE IT), bit of praise kink, humilliation kink, breeding kink (they're stupid and insane acc), dacryphilia, sex thru the looking glass (there's a mirror in reader's dorm), ANGST in capital, they're starting to catch the feels™ ur honor, hurt/comfort, plot thiccens, this people are clearly NOT in a good headspace btw idk we listen read and don't judge.

word count: 4,757 words

side note: everyone calling this joel nasty but thirsting after him too? was going to hold a trial over my citizens but yk... what the hell, sure! i too want nasty bfd!joel to ruin me: he can be my baby daddy who doesn't pay for child support of our 4 kids and we'd make way to bed for our 5th LET'S GO also spam time! but i also happen to write in wattpad, and got a pedro pascal social media fic going on :) it's on spanish tho, but if u speak the language and would like to tune in, u can read it here

part: prev | masterlist | next

It's a regular Tuesday when his phone rings at ten in the morning.

"Dad"

Joel gets up from his desk in a brash move, immediately picking up his daughter's worried tone. Tommy bursts inside, telling him to calm down, but all Joel can hear is the anxious beat in his chest.

"What's it, babygirl? You okay?" his throat tightens. "Talk to me"

There's silence before she answers, as if she's unsure to continue.

"It's not me" he feels his muscles relaxing, but then Sarah drops the bomb. "It's y/n"

Joel's heart beats with a different type of worry.

"What's wrong with her?" voice firm but emotionless.

It's almost summer again, and he's still seeing you. In a way, you had carved a space for yourself in his cold heart, so naturally, fear settles in. He'd never admit this things out loud, though.

"I don't know, dad" his daughter starts to rush the words out, panic evident on her voice. "She has locked herself in the bathroom and won't stop crying. I-I didn't know who else to call"

"Don't worry" but it sounds like he's trying to convince himself. "M' comin'. S'anyone else in there?"

There's a pause on the line before she answers.

"No"

He thinks of you. He'd seen you cry before, of course, but it'd been over silly childish stuff, like getting sent to bed early or not getting what you wanted for Christmas.

He thinks of you. Images of your pretty face, etched in pain, make his stomach drop. It isn't fair: your face was one destined to be happy for eternity, your smile so contagious Joel would sometimes find himself surrendering to your juvenile joy, his crow feet a little more notorious since you entered his life and carved your space on it by force; a light in the dark.

He just couldn't bear to see a mirror of his dullness on your face. It wasn't right.

"Stay put. I'll be there"

He tries not to think about your eyes drained of life. He tries not to think he's the cause. And then, he hangs.

As soon as Joel enters your dorm, your perfume is up his nostrils, providing him with a sense of relief he didn't know he needed. It was comforting and familiar, words that used to be hollow now carrying a knowing feeling that stung right on his chest.

"Dad" Sarah calls out, going for a hug. Joel embraces his daughter tightly while caressing her hair. "I'm so glad that you're here. I didn't know what to do"

"Breath in, babygirl. S'alright" he looks at your door, closed. Broken sobs can be heard, and his wounded heart feels like a heavy burden on his chest.

"My class starts in ten" Sarah speaks against the fabric of his flannel, "but I just couldn't leave her like this"

His daughter has a good heart. At least one of them did, anyway.

"Go to your class" he's commanding before he can fully process what he said.

Sarah breaks the hug, looking at him with a look he can't quite place.

"What? But, dad-" she tries to protest, concerned for your wellbeing.

"I'll take care of it. Always do, haven't I?" he sees her hesitation, and afraid of where her doubts would take her, Joel adds a small joke in there. "Y'know those classes ain't free, kid. Go ahead"

"Okay" she gives up. "Just... tell me if anything happens, yes?"

"F'course. Trust me"

"I trust you"

He still remembers when Sarah's kindergarten teacher handed him that drawing: Joel was wearing a cape, and she said his little girl had told everyone in class his dad was a superhero because there was nothing he couldn't do. That same admiration and faith is there in her eyes, even as the small naive kid slips from his fingers and turns into the woman that stands before him. He's not the devil, but the worst father in the world, and that is pretty much the same to him.

When Sarah is out of your dorm, he's trapped inside the small room with your heavy crying on the other side of the door. He looks at the small place, thinking about all the times he's sneaked inside during the night, hiding like a criminal as you wait for him behind the door full of scrapped stickers, ready to capture his lips with an eagerness that gnaws his chest.

Now it's just him and your sobs, his terrified reflection displayed in the mirror in front of your bed, mockingly staring back.

What are you doing? it questions, and Joel, always ready to answer, has suddenly lost the ability to speak.

Forcing himself out of such a pitiful state, he approaches the door, knocking softly.

"Sarah" your hoarse voice speaks up, and just then, he realizes how much he loves hearing your voice, no matter how it sounds. "Don't you have classes to go to? Leave me, please. I promise I'm good, I-"

Joel hears your distress, so he interrupts what looks like the start of a nervous rambling wreck. Huh, doesn't he know you so well?

"Sarah's gone" a beat, "It's me, Joel"

As if you wouldn't recognize that deep voice even if you were deaf.

There's silence before the door flings open, surprising Joel, who takes a step back, barely noticeable to the rest, but obvious to you, who has spent hours admiring him and all his small movements, he who you could draw by memory and built in your head as real as he who was standing before you, his eyes circling with a whirlwind of emotions you can't quite place, yet make your heart race.

Joel takes in the sight of you, deciding it's unfair how good you look, despite your disheveled hair, run mascara and red-rimmed eyes: you are still the prettiest sight he's ever seen, and now he doesn't know what scares him the most.

"You're wearing my shirt" he says out loud his latest discovery. It's all he manages to say: not an are you okay? nor an what's wrong?

No, Joel just happens to be very stupid(ly in love).

"Sarah didn't see me" you hug the fabric that makes your frame look smaller, or maybe it's your tired composture that makes it seem that way, avoiding Joel from enjoying the way his shirt looks on you. "If that's what you wanted to know. Been inside there for hours, already was when she came by"

The fact that you rather explain and assure him of his supposed possible worries instead of sharing your own, makes his stomach tie on a knot. Were you too kind or perhaps selfless? Maybe just stupid(ly in love).

Joel grunts, and you're not sure if it's his way of dissmissing your comment (maybe he thinks you're lying), chastising you in a shallow manner or the fact that you're poorly trying to avoid the elephant in the room. Maybe he thinks you're still a foolish careless child who can't comprehend the weight of whatever it is you're doing by being with your bestfriend's dad behind everyone's back.

"Tell me" he gets closer to you, fingers on your cheeks, but they don't dig the skin, instead, his roughness hiding a surprising tenderness to them. "What happened, y/n?"

The rawness in his voice takes you by surprise. Joel Miller, who seemed a man impossible to waver, now stood before you, wrapped in a gloom that left you at loss for words, something akin to hope planting it's seed on your heart.

"Tell me" he demands, yet his pupils move as unsteady as your heart. There's no power for command in his voice, only what you could allude to helplessness.

Was it because you were putting up walls like he did?

Was it because the consequences of being with you are starting to dawn upon him?

Whatever it is, you don't like it.

"What's wrong?" he's pushing for an answer softly, such a contrasting image to that of him in bed. "Please, talk to me"

Please.

The words slip past his trembling lips, defenses crumbling.

Joel Miller hasn't pleaded since Sarah's mother packed her bags and walked out of their shared home. He promised himself he would never be vulnerable again, never at the feet of a loved one, beggin to be seen.

To be heard. To not be hurt. To be loved.

But here you were, red eyes blown wide at a confession spoken through other words.

Please.

Your chest feels heavy, breath constricted.

"Joel..." you utter his name like a prayer. As something to believe in; something to hold.

He rushes to your side, strong arms caging around you as your labored cries fill the tiny room.

"S'alright" he whispers against your ear, burying his face on your shaking shoulder. "M' right'ere, doll"

Your hold turns more desperate, practically clinging as if your life depended on it.

"Take your time, y/n" your name so soft, you feel like crying more. "I ain't goin' anywhere"

"Promise me" you whimper, holding tightly.

"I won't go" he assures. There it is, the same unwavering strength you know. It's for you, he thinks.

"Joel" you call out again, tone terrified. "I think I'm pregnant"

It takes him at least a minute to speak. Even to breathe.

"...What?"

He feels your erratic pulse against his chest.

"Joel. Look at me"

He doesn't feel your heartbeat anymore. Just then he realizes he's backed down, embrace letting go of yours. Joel takes in your eyes, shimmering with new tears and fears.

"Joel?"

"I'm here" his voice sounds like it belongs to someone else, and the reminder like it's for himself.

"I know" your small voice speaks up, "but, just- please, look at me"

Joel holds your gaze, and it's like your air supply as been cut.

You don't want this.

"Are you sure?" Joel asks cautiously, as if you were a small animal he's afraid to scare.

"No" you breath in. "I bought the test, but I couldn't take it... I was, for the very first time in my life, scared. But there's always a first, isn't it? That's when Sarah found me"

There's always a first. You weren't afraid when he pounced you next to his sleeping daughter, neither when you didn't stop coming and he let you in everytime, and absolutely not when he obscenely ate you out while Sarah was on the phone. No, you were brave―brave enough to stand defiant when his conflicting gaze pierced through you, daring you to be the first to leave this mess and forget about him. But you were brave because you stayed, despite it all.

That had to mean something, right?

"You said you wouldn't leave me" it comes out in a shaky breath; a threat. Your voice seethes with a quiet rage. "You promised, Joel"

Like the word promise was a dagger twisting on his insides, not a sacred oath.

So he forces himself to be that hero Sarah still thinks he is. After all, he promised her he's going to solve this, didn't he?

"I did" he runs a hand through his hair. "Got the test with you?" You slowly nod. "Take it, then. I'll wait here"

You don't move from your spot, chest still moving uneven under your labored breaths.

"When you come out, I'll promise I'll still be here"

He can't promise you more. The world? It's what you deserve but not what he can give; Joel can only give so much.

"Okay" your tone is clipped, and that's all you say before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

The room feels smaller than it is, the small plastic stick feeling heavier in your fingers than it actually is. You hear the clock's tick, Joel's frantic pace and your own irrational beat. It feels like a bomb: ready to explode and destroy everything within it's range.

Time drags like a cigarette, walls closing over your shaking pale frame. Your phone has a timer going on, yet for some reason, it feels an end to your beginning. You hug your body, wishing it was Joel's arms doing so.

But you saw it: fear, hesitation. It was on his eyes, auburn cracking like wood under fire. He was weak, and so were you. All of this... it starts to loose it's meaning. What started as a summer fling now falls upon you like a second skin you can't quite wash off, and it's suffocating as much as the enclosed space where a stupid line could change the rest of your life forever.

Joel outside isn't doing much better. He's aware his walking probably set you on edge, so now he's sat at the small bed that dips under his weight. He takes one deep breath, two―then looses count.

How could he be so careless? For a brief moment, why did he let himself believe it could be?

For God's sake: you were his daughter's friend. He had seen you and Sarah play on his house, laughing on his porch, gossiping on her bedroom. Growing up.

He wanted you, a desire so consuming it sometimes kept him up at night, thoughts confusing with something else. Probably fear, probably acceptance.

Joel is aware you changed his life. You, with your wild spirit and obnoxious laugh. You whom he couldn't tear his gaze away when standing in the same room, a magnetic force making the world around you drawn to you and that dangerous allure you had that made it impossible to resist you. To forget you. To leave without you.

He feels dirty. A monster. A wolf with an insatiable hunger, sinking his canine teeth on your soft flesh. He'd drink your blood, to always keep a part of you with him; to be one. Like a lamb sent to the slaughter: but you wanted it. You had placed your head inside his jaw; trusting. As if knowing he could devour you, yet he'd never hurt you. Daring, almost.

Show me you can love me. Take a bite. Take me as yours. Mark me. Ruin me for anyone else. My blood, it belongs to you. This isn't a sacrifice―this is love.

When you exit the bathroom, hand holding the pregnancy test, it's all clear to him.

For a moment even, Joel forgets there's a world outside and sees a small baby: they have your smile, your eyes―and nothing of him, because you're the sun of his moon, the light of his darkness, and that baby is a mirror of you and your beauty. You and your warmth, devoid of his cold and far from where his filth can taint it. They have to look like you, because you are the most beautiful person in the world, and suddenly, the idea one more of you is possible, makes it feel like just you isn't enough.

"It's negative"

For the second time in the day, Joel is rendered speechless. His gaze is trained on the floor, lost in thought. Besides his lack of an answer, whatever he's thinking makes you nervous.

"Joel, are you okay?" you call out.

He swallows the lump on his throat, pose akward before he moves next to your bed.

"M' fine, baby. C'mere" he sits over it again, motioning with his hand the empty spot next to him. Joel's embrace is warm, like it shields you from the cold harsh truth.

"Are you upset?" you ask over the comfortable silence, the underlying tension stretching like a rubber band.

"No" his answer comes quick, "but I won't lie to ya', doll. Thought for a sec and ol' man like me could give a pretty girl like yourself a baby as beautiful as their mamma"

A treacherous pink dusts your cheeks. Had you lost all your common sense? Seconds ago, your life hung by a fragile thread, and now all your body can think is to go for the same risk again. Fuck it.

"Did you? I thought you were too busy freaking out"

Joel lets out a nervous laugh. "M' a busy man, doll. Learned how to do two things at once"

A fire settles in your stomach when his touch lingers over your soft flat belly, longing.

"Hmm, I see" your fingers move from his hold to his collarbone, as they play with the buttons he hasn't wore.

"Y/n" he warns. You stop for a moment, not because you're unsure, but because when you look up, his eyes don't shine with that glint of danger and hunger that gives you the thrills. Instead, they look at you with a fondness he doesn't seem to even realize―the one that gives you the hope of it all.

"I want this" you speak up, voice confident.

"I don't think that's a good idea, doll. What'ya need is-"

"You" your face gets close to his, cutting his words and breath. Joel's adam's apple bobs, your throbbing pussy going through a Pavlovian response, such action an indicator he's surrendered to you, mouth watering at just the thought. "You said you could do two things at the same time, right? The comfort me in the only way you know"

There's hesitation on his eyes, and while you think it's because he's still hung up on the idea this isn't what you need, Joel's mind is stuck in the fact you think he can just warm your bed but no your heart. It's stupid, indeed. It can't affect him that much. Ashamed, he cuts the space hanging between your lips and traps them in a heated kiss.

"Hmh, Joel" your voice barely audible as Joel's fingers grip on your hair, his sleazy tongue sliding it's way into your mouth until you can feel it in your teeth. "Please..."

He chuckles at your neediness. "Please, what?"

"Please" you whimper, feeling your back heat with droplets of sweat under Joel's shirt, the sticky feeling akin to that starting to pool in between your thighs. "Please, make me feel good"

Joel smiles adoringly, moving your body until your legs are up his shoulders. Sure, his knees covered by his dirty worn-out jeans are ruining your fresh laundry, and his joints may crack here and there, but you don't pay mind to this little things: all you care is how he's kissing your bare thighs, his salt and pepper stubble tickling skin that feels more sensitive than ever; burning almost.

"Gon' touch 'tis pretty pussy 'til you forget y'r name, doll" he breathes out. "Will ya' let me?"

You nod eagerly as he helps you get out of your panties, throwing them somewhere around the room. You smack his arm playfully at his rough manners, but then he's pressing his lips with wet ticklish kisses on your legs and laughter bubbles at the tingles it's causing.

"S-stop, Joel!" you beg, legs shaking. Your giggles are contagious, and soon the foreign feeling lifts the corners of his scowl into a smile, a concept becoming more familiar with time.

"I ain't stopping" his fingers then graze your clit, tauntingly. You whine, as Joel doesn't let up on your clit, his calloused digits coated in your arousal. "'Tis what you asked for, baby. So 'm gonna make you feel good. So good until you can't speak nothin' that ain't my name"

The threat feels like a delicious promise, so you tell him you'll behave.

"I wanna try somethin', doll. Wait" you whine at the loss of his fingers inside of you, and then he's moving your body until he's against the wall and you're on the border of the bed. With your eyes, you follow his line of view. "So needy, ain't ya'? Cockhungry slut. Jus' scared the shit out of me and now you want me inside?" he tsks. "Sick fella"

"Joel..." you breath out, desire pooling into your orbs.

"Wanna see you, doll" you see your reflection in the mirror as Joel lowers his head to whisper on your ear, eliciting goosebumps on your skin. "Want you to see yourself, too. How you'll be beggin' for me"

His middle and ring finger dip between your folds as he continues the minstrations, fingers pumping in and out as they graze your moist cunt. They start to go in circles, and even if it's not exactly next to your bed, you can see the mirror begin to fog, whines condensed in the heavy air.

His shirt clings uncomfortably to your body, but you don't care. In a way, he feels even closer to you, as if he was an extension of yourself.

Joel's body radiates heat on it's own, making the room's temperature skyrocket.

You lean your head back onto the mattress, moaning.

"Need ya' to use that pretty mouth of y'rs, doll. Say it" his fingers linger on the dip of your hips, waiting for an answer with a smirk and daring manner. "Say what ya' want; that's if you can"

It takes you a while to speak up, the slippery sound of Joel's coated fingers the only sound to be heard on your dorm.

"I... I need" you whine through labored pants, "I need you, Joel"

I need you, Joel. It's in the heat of the moment, really, yet on that very instant, he makes a silent vow that hangs unspoken in the air.

"Good girl" he bites your earlobe, making a chill run down your spine.

His fingers fuck into you just how you like it: swirling to explore your inner tight walls.

"Fuck. Love how your pussy takes me, doll. 'S mine, isn't it? Say it, say who this pussy belongs to. Who's the only man allowed to have it"

You close your eyes, but the answer comes clear. "You, Joel. Just you"

You whine, feeling him go harder in a new-found confidence. Your nails dig on his biceps, but he doesn't flich, still busy burying his fingers inside your clit as his mouth continues spilling filthy shit you barely can comprehend, mind starting to go numb.

Normally, Joel would make you cum on his fingers, always making sure to lick it after, claiming it was bad manners to leave to waste. But today, the clock ticking in your wall, he knows he must hurry.

"Eager, eh?" you taunt back, seeing how quickly he's pulling down his underwear, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance.

Your dripping cunt welcomes his cock, tip teasing your entrance.

"Don't" he seethes.

"Don't?" you laugh. "Don't what, laugh?"

His fingers grab your jaw tightly, forcing you to look behind you.

"Don't stop lookin', doll"

Joel slips the tip of his cock into you, his hands grabbing your waist to steady you. He looks at you through the mirror, seeing your dazed eyes, waiting as you bite your lip.

"That's it, good girl" he praises, purring against your ear. You see his face go down and lick the side of your neck before sinking his teeth in it. "Gonna reward you for'at"

Your mouth falls agape when he fully pushes his cock inside of you, burying himself to the limit in the first thrust. You moan, stretch wet pussy trying to adjust to his girth. He groans, his hips moving back and forth with yours, to meet his thrusts.

"R-right there" you whimper, feeling eyes starting to water. It had been a long day, and with his cock buried deep inside you, you can't think of anything else: just him―like this, for the rest of your life; you don't need more. "Fuck, don't stop"

His thumb rubs across your cheekbone, capturing a tear that had slipped past your foggy mind in a brittle moment of vulnerability, brown eyes flickering with something else. It could be.

We could be.

"Fuck, you cryin' over this cock, doll? What'a fuckin' slut" he laughs incredulously, but there's a hidden fondness to it. "S' that how good 'm makin' you feel?"

You can only moan, his dick harder now, his infatuation with your fucked-out state evident in the way his movements become more hectic.

"Can't even speak? What'a dirty minx inside 'tis sexy little body"

"Mhm" you blabber, tears running hot down your cheeks, landing on the mattress in fat droplets, noticeable through the reflection even. Joel stares back at your puffy eyes, devotion pouring at your glossy gaze, coated in a faint red tint, more pronounced from your earlier cries. Fuck. Never did he think your lambent eyes and sniffle sounds could turn him on this much. Something about him being the cause of it has his head spinning.

"New rule" he growls, "you keep those pretty red eyes lookin' at me when you cum"

You whimper at his words, the powerful aura they carry pushing your orgasm closer to the edge. You feel your tight folds clenching around his cock, hands holding to his back while your nails dig in it. You feel yourself approaching your release, multiple tears escaping down your cheekbone. In an obscene gesture, it isn't his thumb but his tongue what removes the wet stream from your body, feeling the salty drops on his tastebuds.

You were already so worked up, it was a matter of seconds before you could cum at any moment. Your walls clench around his length, and before you can process, Joel pulls your body up, caging your tits until they're pressed against his soft chest. You face the white paint of your wall, and Joel can see your back in the mirror as he's still buried inside of you. You gasp at the change in position, all of the sudden, a painfull delicious sensation flooding your senses.

"You're gonna cum, aren't ya', doll?" Joel's asking, hot breath nestled in your neck.

"Hmh" you barely manage to blurt as he fucks into you harder, your arms clutching onto him. You were being so loud now that you were sure you'd get at least one noise complain, hoping it stays there; if they found out not only had you been fucking, but with a fourty year old man who happpened to be the father of your bestfriend, you'd probably get expelled. "So close..."

"You know?" he whispers, voice fragile over the sound of your pants and worked up breaths. "I was scared, ealier. M' sorry you had to see that" your body trembles, making you close your eyes. "But I need ya' to know, for'a moment, I did think about having a kid with you"

Your forehead drips with sweat, mixing with the sodium of your tears.

"Maybe in 'nother life, huh?"

Your heart feels like it's about to burst when he sloppily kisses you, as to prevent any words come out of your mouth―humilliating or full of regret, avoiding the heart ache of a rejection. Joel, for a moment, lets his heart wander off to territories he shouldn't, thinking of things he should leave to be. Joel digs his hole deeper, but he doesn't care: he just wants to be the best grave in your cementery.

"Maybe" you answer, but it sounds like a possibility, the promise of a foolish mind betraying the guarded hidden hope.

"Fuck, Joel" you bury your face against his soft pecs, your orgasm crashing over you. Your whine comes our rather loud, trying to drown the sound against his body. He doesn't stop holding you on his arms, firm; you'd probably fallen if he didn't.

"Wait for me, doll. 'M close"

"Please" you plead, kissing his jaw. "Need you. Want to feel you, Joel"

Not daddy, but his name. I want you. I need you. Want to feel you; for you to fill me. He groans, rhythm sloppy as he crashes his lips into yours. he should stop, especially after today's events, but God, his traitorous head is filled with images of you, belly round with his child, one carved to be the spitting image of you.

Do it.

You moan inside his mouth when you feel him finish inside of you, thick, your fingers running through his dark greying hair damp with sweat.

"M' right here" he says his words from earlier, and you feel yourself hugging him to keep his body next to yours even as he pulls out.

"I know" you hum, arms around his neck. "Thank you for coming"

"What of both?"

You let out a laugh.

"Jesus, Joel" but your tone is devoid of malice, adquiring that layer to it, just like his own. There's a shift in the air, and if you felt it before, now you know there's no point of return. "You sure are something else"

dts: @ann-gell; angél de mi corazón, tkm mucho, gracias por llegar a mi vida, ah.

[pandemic-info]

UPDATE: a judge blocked this for now: https://apnews.com/article/donald-trump-pause-federal-grants-aid-f9948b9996c0ca971f0065fac85737ce

—

This is a huge fucking problem.

These grants account for more than 10% of the GDP. 3 trillion – wiped out.

From the article:

The funding freeze by the Republican administration could affect trillions of dollars and cause widespread disruption in health care research, education programs and other initiatives. Even grants that have been awarded but not spent are supposed to be halted.

“The use of Federal resources to advance Marxist equity, transgenderism, and green new deal social engineering policies is a waste of taxpayer dollars that does not improve the day-to-day lives of those we serve,” said a memo from Matthew Vaeth, the acting director of the Office of Management and Budget.

(Use of that language, that entire segment, "Marxist equity ... policies" is disgusting. If you think you're wary of propaganda and you do not see the enormous red flags in that statement, I do not know how to help you. If you're not beyond it, maybe pick up a history book — the 1930s are particularly pertinent.)

The average person may not understand just how far-reaching this is, how many programs and services are covered by grants, that regular people rely on all across the US and globally.

Not to mention how many people just had their livelihood demolished.

Researchers, for example, spend months and years writing grant proposals, their work and income relies on these cycles. So even if this is "temporary", a lot of people are going to struggle.

This is not just a few people in lab coats somewhere, working on something you don't care about. Government-funded research is released to the public, since we paid for it, and is very typically about things the public will want to know:

Is this product safe or deadly?

Is this medication actually a "wonder drug" or does it harm you in the long term?

Is this pollution going to affect us long-term?

Etc.

Seriously, if you wanted any of those things to get better — you wanted lower rates of cancer and other deadly and disabling disease? You worry about trusting public health guidelines because you're concerned about bias and vested interests in research? You want "small government" that doesn't interfere with people's bodies based on a small group's religious dogma, with zero basis in factual, verifiable reality?

Then you should have voted to keep this administration out of government.

Because their idea — which is outlined in Project 2025, and they are following it closely — is that research will be required to rely 50% on private funding.

Guess what private funding introduces a ton more of: private interests, private bias. The interests of stakeholders who do not give a shit if you are being killed by their product, as long as line goes up in the short run.

But even beyond scientific researchers — and those who rely on that work, e.g. journalists, science communicators, public health advocates, scientific artists —

grants fund others like: teachers, police, farmers, women's and homeless shelters, native orgs, medical workers, and on the list goes.

All pending "review" by a thoroughly unqualified gang of convicted criminals and cronies.

[optimisticgrey]

Okay, I need you all to listen very carefully:

Attention is the most valuable ressource on the internet.

It's how ads work (blinking, calling to action ("CLICK NOW", limited time offer etc) and what everyone is competing for - authors, fanfiction writers, content creators, people trying to make a living or just showing their art.

Everyone is competing for attention.

But, yes there is a big but, the people whose attention we are trying to get still do have a life.

It is a weird world out there and it gets more overwhelming every day. News get darker, situations more dire. There are people's lives at stake.

Even without following the news or reality adjacent content, we are all impacted by it.

We all feel it.

I talk to a lot of people on a regular basis and all, really, all of them are fucking stressed and overwhelmed: friends, acqaintances, mutuals(🫶), co-workers, clients, customers and the cashier at my favorite kebap place.

Everyone is fucking stressed, overwhelmed and tired all the time. Even the most chill and zen people I know.

Please keep in mind that these are the people following us and our work. Whatever we scream into the boundless void that is the internet gets up picked by some of them.

They try to make a living, to survive, to get by and find a moment of piece after a long day.

They still click.

Sometimes. they still like and leave kudos.

Sometimes, they just don't take time to leave a comment.

Maybe our stories made them smile. Or cry.

Maybe they are reading/seeing/consuming our stuff was the ten minute break they get in a day.

Yes, engagement is down. Across all platforms, for everyone.

It's how the internet works.

Algorithms change, corporations get influences by politics, the brainless mass shifts focus.

The next dopamine chase, the new hot topic.

In my case: the next new game. I am currently only publishing for BG3, it's a nearly two year old game. The people still reading my stuff are randoms an algorithm drew in or mutuals. The fanbase is limited and I am aware of it.

I just started publishing and I do not mind. Mostly, I do not care. I still save all delightful comment because they always make my day because there are still people who do care.

People who send me messages, telling me they loved my writing and the way my stories make them feel (although I somehow end up writing angst).

But the people leaving comments (likes/kudos) are not obligated to do so because there is a surprisingly small number of people who think outside of their own head.

If the internet has taught us anything, than it's the fact that people share hate rather than love.

It's easier to get a hate comment than a kind one.

It's how the internet society works and the battle for attention with it.

What I am trying to say is: Please be kind.

To yourself and to others.

Your art is not devalued because less people consume it. Maybe they are busy, maybe they are overwhelmed, maybe their focus has shifted.

All we have is each other.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[thezombieprostitute]

Don't Move

Based on this post. Entirely written on my phone.

Warnings: Smut. Please let me know if I missed any.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

It's been a rough day. It feels like every five minutes someone else was complaining to you about something you had no control over. Acting like your inability to help was a personal choice. It was frustrating and you were ready to pull your hair out.

Your main consolation was that the day had to end at some point. While you didn't relish the multiple flights of stairs you had to climb, at least you weren't at work.

You open the door to your apartment and stop short when you see your boyfriend, Bucky, sitting naked on the couch with his legs spread.

"Oh, hi Doll," he smiles. "Worked up a sweat cooking dinner and decided to take a shower. I'll go get dressed so we can eat."

"Stop!" you order. "Don't you dare move." You step inside and close the door, eyes not leaving his form.

"Doll?" Bucky's adams apple bobs as he registers the hunger in the gaze.

"Arms on the back of the couch," you instruct as you take off your shoes. "And keep them there until I tell you otherwise."

Watching Bucky's thick cock harden as you got closer made you feel good. Powerful. Needed.

"Feel free to say anything," you tell him as you kneel in front of him. He gasps as you put your hands on his muscly thighs. "But no touching."

"Doll?" Bucky whimpers and it sounds like music to your ears.

You start by kissing his thighs, gently squeezing from time to time. You slowly work your way closer to his erection. You give a lick, smiling at the whimper you get in response.

"Please, Doll. Please."

He starts to lift his hips to bring your lips closer to where he needs them but push yourself away.

"Don't move," you order.

He settles with a slight pout and hungry eyes. "Fuck you're gorgeous."

"Thank you," you smile. "But no more interruptions."

"Yes, ma'am," he groans. "But don't blame me if my arm breaks the couch."

You smirk as he hisses through his teeth when you gently bite his thigh. You go back to alternating kissing and licking up his thighs.

When you reach his balls you give them a playful kiss before fondling them. Bucky groans heavily and you think you hear the back of the couch creak.

You kiss your way up to the tip of his cock and lazily lick the precum off. You giggle as the back of the couch starts cracking.

"Please, please, please," Bucky grunts. His eyes are burning with desire for you, his muscles straining with the effort to not move.

You swirl your tongue as you take the tip of his cock into your mouth. Bucky's hips start to move but he stops himself with a moan and more sounds from the couch. It really won't survive this but right now you don't care. You're in charge.

Bucky's please become breathier, his eyes begging you for mercy. He throws his head back as you slowly push more of his erection down your throat.

You feel yourself getting wet knowing that this huge, strong Adonis of a man is bowing to your will. Knowing that this man who could easily throw you over his shoulder is obeying your orders. You feel powerful.

Using your other hand to stroke his shaft you work more and more of him down your throat until you're choking on him. You let yourself breathe but you don't stop. Not when you can feel Bucky vibrating from how close he is. His chanting of "please" has become faster, more desperate.

Then you stop. Bucky let's out the most pitiful while you've ever heard from him. He gives you a pained look and you smile.

Leaning in close to him you whisper, "now fuck me like you want to."

Bucky's whimpers turn into growls as he gets off the couch and moves you against the wall. He strips your pants and tears off your panties. No doubt he's smelled how wet you've gotten from having him in your mouth.

He lifts you by the hips and thrusts up into you as a brutal place making you cry out. Normally Bucky's very good about prepping you but sometimes you just need to get fucked like a plaything and he's more than happy to oblige.

"Got me so worked up I need to cum now," he grunts. "But I also need to feel you milking my cock like the good slut you are."

His metal fingers move between your bodies. You'll never get over how strong your super soldier is. The cold of his fingers shocks your clit and you keen.

"That's it, Doll. That's it. Give me what I need."

Your body is quick to yield to him and you cum with a loud yell, Bucky following soon after.

He carries you to the couch and lays down with you on top of him as you both catch your breath.

"Thank you, Bucky. I really needed that."

He chuckles, "me too, apparently," before kissing the top of your head.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tagging: @alicedopey ; @darsynia ; @delicatebarness ; @icefrozendeadlyqueen ; @irishhappiness ; @kmc1989 ; @lokislady82 ; @ronearoundblindly ; @stellar-solar-flare

[illbegottenfaith]

the one where theo asks you out to a wedding

exes to lovers

In his defence, Theo landed on your doorstep only after he had exhausted all other options. He took in a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and knocked. After a minute or two, he heard the patter of hurried footsteps and the door swung open.

"Hey."

Your face looked a little less round, perhaps. Your hair was shorter than he remembered, but your eyes looked just as sweet and forgiving as they always did. Only now

"Hey."

No open hostility. Theo could work with that. He was starting to feel a little hot in his suit. He scratched the back of his neck. Your eyes narrowed at the action.

"What do you want?"

Theo coughed awkwardly.

"Why do you just assume I want something?"

The corner of your lip quirked up.

"I dated you for years, Theodore. I think I know when you want something."

He took a deep breath and stuck his hands into his pockets, glancing at the door as he struggled to meet your eye. He should have brought flowers or something. Merlin, what was so nerve-wracking about talking to you? He did it plenty enough, once upon a time.

"I...need a favour."

"I figured."

Theo wished you'd stop staring at him so plainly. Instead, you leaned against the doorframe, tilting your head up at him while you patiently waited for him to spit out whatever he had to say.

"Mattheo's getting married," he blurted out.

Instantly, your face softened. Theo felt a pang of guilt somewhere deep inside his gut. When the two of you were dating, you always had a soft spot for Mattheo, as did he for you. In fact, he seemed more heartbroken than Theo after the breakup. But the fact remained that he, like a lot of your mutual friends, knew Theo before you, and so his social circle remained somewhat intact while you faded into oblivion.

He hadn't thought twice about it at the time, but seeing your face light up made him realise that this must be the first you had heard about any of your old friends since graduation. He had never meant to tear you away from friends who were every bit yours as they were his.

Then again, he had never wanted to break up with you in the first place.

Your lips curved into a familiar smile that tugged at something inside his chest.

"That's...wow. I'm so happy for him. That's incredible."

"It is. I'm the best man."

"I should hope so. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

Another painful silence drew out between the two of you. Theo stared at his palm uncomfortably.

"I need a date," he forced out.

You looked unimpressed.

"And? None of your model girlfriends can make it?"

Theo had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"I'm sick of - they're not my girlfriends."

"Right," you drawled, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too famous to be tied down, are we?"

Theo pulled at the knot of his tie desperately. He didn't remember you being this frustrating.

"I don't want to take any of them."

You shrugged. "Then go solo."

"C'mon, Y/N. Everyone's bringing a plus one."

You leaned towards him with a sardonic smile.

"That's the wonderful thing about not being your girlfriend anymore. Not. My. Problem. Bye now."

Theo jammed his foot in as you unsuccessfully tried to close the door.

"I'll pay you."

You laughed incredulously. "You can't be serious."

It had been a long shot, but he was running out of ideas. He dragged a hand through his hair.

"What do you want?" What did you want? "More attention? More gifts? I'll pay for your dress. I'll buy you dinner."

"Careful, or I'll think this is an actual date."

"Please, Y/N," he started saying before his brain could catch up. "We used to be so good together."

Your eyes darkened. You bit the inside of your cheek.

"What happened?"

You folded your arms, your eyes gleaming in the dusk that had settled around the two of you. You shook your head almost helplessly.

"I don't know. You were...you were great. I loved you. You loved me. You started playing Quidditch. You got good." Your pressed your lips into a thin line. "Then you got mean."

Theo scoffed half-heartedly. "Look, I didn't -"

"You stopped listening to me, Teddy," you interrupted.

That shut him up. He didn't know what to say. You didn't sound upset or even angry. Just hollow and a little disappointed.

You took the invitation Theo had been loosely holding and scanned the details.

"What the hell," you muttered. "Sure. Why not?"

Theo blinked a few times. As hard as he had tried to persuade you, he hadn't expected you to actually agree.

"Really?"

He looked so earnest, you couldn't help yourself. You rolled your eyes almost affectionately.

"Keep your wallet away. I'll foot the bill for my dress."

"No - please, let m- "

There, in the dim twilight, with the salty evening air stinging your faces, you cut him off with a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Night, Teddy," you murmured.

This time, he didn't try to stop you as you shut the door.

[blatherblatherskite]

okay, so this is a long shot, but my hands are tied and I'm wanting to take some of the burden off of my partner. Would anybody in the UK who is disabled happen to have any experience with immigrating their disabled partner from another country? From the US would be preferable, but any insight would be helpful at this juncture. My partner is doing all she can right now to read up on immigration laws over there in the UK, but she suffers from migraines and pretty bad ME/CFS and I want to do all I can to take some of the weight off her shoulders. We also don't really see any resources online that talk about the what-ifs of an immigration scenario where both partners are disabled, it's only ever one or the other.

Recommendations for lawyers/solicitors you worked with would also be incredibly welcome, since we're expecting I'm gonna get denied something awful for being a cripple trying to live in another country.

(tagging @thebibliosphere even though I know you went the opposite direction from Scotland to the US, in case you or your followers can help. thanks in advance!)

[justaredballoon]

There's a homeless woman who hangs out around the store I work at. All of us there have gotten to know her and help her out how we can. The police constantly harass her and take away all her stuff. They have threatened to take away her dog that she has as well. But they can't arrest her because she doesn't do drugs. So she has to constantly move around and hide because anytime the police see her they literally take everything she has. And all she's doing is trying to live. To sleep. To get out of the cold and find some food for her dog. But that is considered a crime. Living without a home is a crime. How is anyone supposed to "get back on their feet" if they are constantly harassed? If they have to think about where they are going to sleep everyday? If the papers they need to find work are STOLEN by the police because the simple sight of them existing is so offensive to other people. The way people talk about those who are homeless is so disgusting. They say to get them off the street but no one ever talks about where they go. People just don't want to have to be confronted with the problem.

[ravens-bird]

"You really want to test me right now?" - Zayne.

Pairing: Zayne x F!Reader/MC

Tags: Boyfriend Zayne, uh not-quite-smut smut, oral F!receiving, kissing, fingering, thought of adding semi-exhibitionism, but i have no brain juice left - it's literally 3am. "Love" used as nickname

wc: 1.5k.

Note: Y'all... Guess who just had a dream and decided to write this right after 😮‍💨 Definitely not proofread 🦦 (I don't know what happened, the post got fucked zo repost)

You arrive at Akso Hospital and make your way to the receptionist’s desk, finding Yvonne sorting through paperwork.

"Hey, Yvonne. Busy day?"

She sighs, rubbing her temples—a rare display of exhaustion. You quirk a brow.

"You have no idea," she mutters. "Between the long shifts and this mountain of paperwork, I could use a vacation."

You chuckle. "I bet. Speaking of rounds, do you know where Zayne is?"

"In his office. He just finished up his last patient visit, so he should be resting right now." Then, with a knowing glint in her eyes, she adds, "But he mentioned clocking out early today. I wonder why…"

A playful smirk tugs at your lips. "I might have an idea."

She grins. "Go on, then. Before something else comes up."

You thank her, and make your way up to his office, your heart picking up speed at the thought of finally seeing him after so long.

It had been two weeks since you’d last seen Zayne—his business trip to Mt. Eternal with Dr. Noah had kept him away, and by the time he returned last night, you were already gone on a last-minute mission. This morning, he’d left for work before you even got home, and seeing him had been the only thing on your mind the whole day.

Naturally, the first thing you did after getting off work was come find him.

Stepping inside, your eyes land on him immediately.

Zayne is seated on the couch, his coat and glasses set aside, tie loosened as he leans back with his head resting against the cushions. Was he asleep?

You hesitate for a moment before softly calling his name.

He stirs, blinking up at you in surprise. That’s all the confirmation you need. In a heartbeat, you close the distance, launching yourself onto him before he can even stand.

Zayne grunts at the impact but recovers quickly, wrapping his arms around you as you settle into his lap. "You could’ve just said hello, you know."

You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling the faint, yet familiar scent of his cologne. "Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I missed you."

His hands settle at your waist, fingers squeezing gently. "I missed you too." His voice is softer now, more intimate. Then, amusement flickers in his eyes. "You’re awfully energetic for someone who spent the night hunting down wanderers."

You groan against his skin. "I should just kidnap you for the weekend."

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. "Oh? And do what with me, exactly?"

You pull back slightly, to playfully glare at him. Before you can speak, he lightly presses the back of your neck to bring you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“How was your day?” he asks, kneading the back of your neck gently and you melt into his touch, instantly distracted.

“Tiring, but it wasn’t as serious as Tara had made it sound,” you sigh. While the clean-up itself had been a walk in the park, the travelling had been tedious, even with the faster and advanced motorcycles from the Association.

His eyes were bright, and he was looking at you so warmly that you couldn't help but beam at him.

"Yvonne said you were clocking out early." Your fingers find the loose knot of his tie, tugging playfully. "Any particular reason?"

His gaze dips to your lips before he clears his throat. "I figured we deserved a night in."

"Mmm." You hum, letting your hand drift from his tie to his chest, feeling the steady pulse beneath your fingertips. "You’ve been gone so long, Zayne. Do you know how hard it was to sleep alone?"

His jaw tenses slightly, but instead of addressing the obvious implication in your words, he exhales slowly, as if willing himself to stay composed. "We have chamomile tea at home. Studies show it can improve sleep quality with its mild sedative effects when taken before bed."

You blink up at him. Then a slow, sly smile spreads across your lips. "Chamomile tea?" Your fingers graze the fabric of his shirt, trailing lower. "Right, but that wouldn’t help."

His brows knit slightly. "The white noise machine in the bedroom has a setting that mimics rainfall—"

"Not the same as having you next to me."

Your voice is softer this time, but there’s no mistaking the way your fingers press against his chest, the way your body leans into his just enough to make your point.

His grip tightens slightly. "We are still at the hospital," he reminds you, though his voice lacks its usual firmness. "And you're making this difficult."

You smirk, tugging the tie loose until it comes off. "Am I?" You shift just enough for him to feel the friction, watching as his breath catches. "I’m not even doing anything."

The first button of his shirt comes undone beneath your touch, your nails grazing his collarbone.

His hand snaps up suddenly, fingers wrapping around your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to make your breath hitch.

"You really want to test me right now?" His voice is a quiet warning, laced with something dangerous.

Your pulse spikes.

"What if I say yes?"

For a moment, he just watches you, tension coiling between you like a drawn bowstring. Then, Zayne exhales slowly, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin before he tilts his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals your breath.

There’s nothing hesitant or soft about it this time.

A small gasp escapes you, and he swallows it greedily, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, pressing you flush against him.

"You’re doing this on purpose," he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint.

You don’t deny it.

When he finally pulls away, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before he shifts beneath you, his hand trailing up your thigh and to your heat, rubbing you through the thin material of your pants.

"Zayne—" your voice hitches as his fingers press more firmly.

"Yes, love?" His tone is teasing, though his own breath is slightly uneven.

"What happened to being at the hospital?"

"You talk too much."

Before you could retort, he moves again, picking you up with startling ease and changing your positions until you're the one beneath him, pressed into the cushions. The feel of his weight against you, the press of his hips, and his growing arousal, makes your stomach flip in anticipation.

His fingers make quick work of the button of your pants after undoing your belt, pushing them down just enough before his hand dips between your thighs, his touch firm and teasing.

You suck in a sharp breath, hips jerking against his palm as he rubs you through your underwear. He watches you closely, his pupils blown wide with desire. His fingers slip beneath the last barrier of fabric. The sensation makes you whimper.

"So impatient," he speaks in a low voice, his voice a rough whisper as he presses down just right, making you arch into him.

"Zayne—"

He silences you with a heated kiss, swallowing every sound you make as he finger-fucks you. His free hand grips your hip, keeping you pinned as he builds a slow, torturous rhythm, his breath hot against your lips.

"Is this what you wanted?" His silken murmur makes you want to clench your thighs together, but he holds you in place, lips trailing down your throat. "Say it."

You barely manage to gasp out a needy "yes" before he rewards you with a deep stroke that has you trembling beneath him. His chuckle is dark, satisfied, as he continues his slow, deliberate pace, drawing every reaction from you with precise, practiced movements.

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as the tension coils tight within you. You clench around his fingers, feeling the start of a wave of euphoria when he pulls his hand away, and a desperate, needy noise escapes you.

“Be patient,” he chastises, and you resist the urge to swear when he slides your pants down further, his fingers trail teasingly against your bare skin before he shifts downward, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh.

A strangled moan escapes your lips as his mouth finds you, his tongue stroking in slow, deliberate patterns that have your fingers twisting in his hair, your thighs trembling around him.

Zayne works you open with his mouth and fingers, his name falling from your lips in breathless gasps as he devours you with unrelenting focus.

“That’s it, love.” The roughness of his voice was so damn sexy. “Be a good girl, and come for me.”

That finally did it.

When you finally shatter, he groans against you, holding you in place as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

As you pant, still trembling, he wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes locked onto you with something dangerously intent.

Before you can catch your breath, he’s already reaching for his belt, a wicked smirk playing at his lips. "We’re not done yet, love. You started this."

[kenyatta]

Over a decade ago, back when Kevin, Molly, and I started EA1, I used to give a talk at entertainment and media conferences that explained the new world of online fandoms to producers, marketers, and executives.

It had a bit of science, a lot of fan work, and bunch of storytelling to explain the social psychology and peer-oriented technologies that enabled people to connect to each another around the things that they loved.

The crowd was really into it -- especially the bits about what fans were doing on the site called Tumblr "without an 'e'".

But then I'd almost always lose them with the last slide. Here's my v/o from my presenter notes:

…But in the same way that you can organize and motivate peer-based fandoms around Love, you can just as easily create networks of hate. In fact, I think we’re going to see new forms of hatred, fascism, and genocide that many in this room have never seen before. They will be peer-to-peer which means there will be no center to attack or defend. They will align themselves not based on common orders but a shared bond of identity. And they will express themselves in ways that menace but hide behind veils of irony or irreverence. Back when I worked on memes, I realized that they weren’t just funny cat pictures. They were proxies for understanding how ideas flowed through networks. I’m working in marketing now because I see fandoms the same way. They give us a glimpse at how we might organize ourselves when we become mostly digital and lose our geography.  My hope is to prepare fans for that possible future, by giving them the expectation of agency in the things that they love, teaching them ways of organizing and expressing themselves through digital tools, and presenting the possibility that the skills that they build through their fandom might help empower them to shape the world to come. This thing you all do that looks like marketing could be a trojan horse. A sermon in a sugar pill that prepares people for the world to come.

I don't know if this was the way other 'official' tumblrs operated but this was always the point behind the gif tutorials, premiere watch parties, and 30 day memes on Orphan Black and Doctor Who (and maybe a bit for Killing Eve). If we taught you Photoshop, you knew how to make a flyer or a protest sign. If you got a guide on how to host a watch party, you could host a meetup. And if you had to work with others to do a 30 day meme, you knew what it meant to cooperate and check in on one another towards a common goal. 

These were designs for participation. The goal was never for anyone to recognize why we were doing it (it looks like 'marketing' to me) but to give people a model and some mechanics for taking action in the world.

This was in 2013. By 2015, I stopped getting invited to do this talk. One person who saw it really got it and, b/c she was well connected, she invited me to give the talk to some folks in leadership at a national political campaign. Their response at the end was "thanks, but we've got this". (They didn’t have it.)

It can feel like there is a lot to do to respond to the right now (which is part of the point, btw), but you can also do things -- quiet things, strategic things, driven by values -- that help lay bricks for a foundation.

[mossworth]

"Message to all Americans" / "Why don't Americans just..." / "How are all Americans this stupid" / "The thing I wish Americans knew..."

Please god please we know we see it we're feeling it we're living it

We see the horrific things happening in the world, we see the horrifically stupid things happening within our own country, we understand that we're not the only country in the world. We're not deluded, we're scared. So many of us are scared. We recognize that there are other people who are scared in the world, and we're scared with them. For them. For ourselves. Angry, too.

I don't know what I'm trying to get at with this. I know too many good activists and too many real, living people whose lives are going to be in real, tangible danger and at jeopardy over the next few years to be able to just brush all this off anymore. I'm not talking about online discourse, stop treating it like it is.

[deadgirldreaming]

I love those people. They see a casual fan and go, "Would you like to hear about Transformers/insert fandom?", and sometimes you get a new addition to fandom spaces.

Gotta be willing to pass on the knowledge. I don't get people who gatekeep like, "You don't know EVERYTHING already? Get out! You'll never be one of us!"

It should be, "Oh, you don't know everything? That's more than alright. We all started somewhere! Where would you like to start?"

A safe space of encouraging interaction and learning of media and the history and culture of any group we are a part of is important. They can't find their roots if they're choked out of the garden.

seasoned transformers fans waiting to explain 40 years worth of lore to a tf1 new fan who asks the name of a random bot standing in a crowd scene

[spiderb00]

- FAM OUT - DREAM LIFE

The barking of the dogs awakened Sophia from her perfect world. The Filipina was cooking, she loved doing it after a busy day, and with the house to herself, the peace she felt was what she needed to end the day. As soon as she put the platter in the oven, Sophia heard little footsteps running towards where she was, and then she could finally see the little copies of her running around the house.

"MOM!" Bending down to be at the height of the twins, Sophia opened her arms, being greeted by a slight impact when the two four-year-old twins hugged her.

"Mom, Mommy Yn took us to the playground, and let us play a lot of hours." Samantha, the older twin – only for twelve minutes – said, emphasizing her words by moving her hands.

"And then she took us out for ice cream!" Denver, the younger twin said, covering his mouth with his little hands when he realized what he said.

"Dev! You weren't supposed to tell that part!" Sam said, stomping her foot on the floor and making an angry face that looked a lot like Sophia's.

"No, it's okay, my loves. I don't like it when you eat dessert before dinner, but I'll talk to your mom about it. Now go upstairs and I'll go upstairs to give you a bath, you little dirt." Sophia said, tickling the two children, who ran away screaming and running upstairs.

Seeing the twins' rush, you entered the kitchen, two backpacks in your hands and two stuffed monkeys hanging from your shoulders. As much as Sophia thinks it's great to see you in super sexy mom mode, she knows she has to scold you for giving the twins ice cream ahead of time.

"So, are kisses just for them? Or do I have one too?" Leaning in to give your wife a kiss, you missed the aim, making the kiss fall on Sophia's cheek, as she turned her face in the opposite direction.

"Not really, no kisses for mothers who do not comply with the other mother's orders." Sophia said, looking at you with that face you knew well, the one that gave you chills.

Already knowing that the twins would probably have snitched on you, you decided to go for the foolproof plan, puppy eyes. You knew you shouldn't give the twins ice cream, but they were so cute telling you the list of reasons why you should buy them ice cream.

"Baby, I'm sorry. But they were so cute with those little faces, I couldn't resist." You said, grabbing your wife's waist and making her look at you.

"You have to be tougher on them, Yn." Sophia said, putting her hands on the back of your neck.

"Sorry…" You said, kissing the Filipina on the cheek and hoping that would get you out of the punishment.

"All right." Sophia said, still with a warning look on her face. "But next time you don't escape me."

Shaking your head and with a smile on your face, you kissed Sophia. Your lips fitting perfectly and your tongues fighting for the dominance of the kiss. With one swift movement, you picked Sophia in your lap, placing her on the counter. Feeling your kisses on her neck, Sophia moaned lightly, covering her mouth with one hand so as not to make too much noise.

"Sophia." You called, as you went down your kisses around her neck.

"Say it, baby."

"Sophia." Stopping the kisses, Sophia looked into your eyes, only to see the smile on your face, before you whispered again. "Wake up!" Stunned, Sophia woke up in a jump, seeing you standing next to her on the bed. Looking at the clock on the bedside table, Sophia narrowed her eyes, the digital clock reading 02:34 in the morning.

"Baby, we have a problem."

Continues…

Hello guys, are you okay?

as I said, I really miss Fam out, so I decided to release a preview of what's to come.

This kind of happens in one of the chapters of Fam Out, which I'm still going to release, but I wanted to give you this background.

Any idea of what will happen ahead?

Stay safe and drink water

fam out masterlist

Xoxo, spider

[profundcherrylady]

Thinking about yoichi isagi dating an Itoshi, Sae and Rin's little sister who is for sure someone unique. Contrary to popular belief, she's very sweet (to him); she just has a bit of a rough exterior. Her nonchalant attitude and piercing teal eyes, along with her unfiltered words, often come off as rude to most people, but Isagi knew better; he had managed to crack the walls she set up protecting her real personality, and he couldn't be happier with what he found inside. People would often stare amazed at how he could read the slightest change on her blank expression, praising how well he knew her to always know exactly what she needed; from just a warm cup of coffee to fight her tiredness to a soft hug to lift up her spirits. Now they were 24 and 22, celebrating two years of being together.

Or at least what she understood by celebrating, which was essentially staying home and skipping her responsibilities by laying down on bed and relaxing like a lazy cat.

A cat. How could he ever need a cat when he has her? He smiled sweetly at her figure comfortably resting; hair tousled and a shirt of his put on to, as she stated before, 'smell his scent' while he was away practicing or training. She could not care less about football or the fact that he couldn't skip his responsibilities to stay with her today, she would just wait until he came home.

"Honey." he called, earning a soft mumble as a response. "Let's go out."

"Why?"

"'Cause it's our anniversary."

"So?"

"So I want to do something nice for you. 'Cause that's what couples do on anniversaries, y'know? We give each other stuff and go out for dinner or something. Do you wanna do that?"

"No." to anyone else that answer might've seen cold and cruel, but not to him; he knew she was just too comfortable to get out of bed, and that saying 'no' to his invitation was her way of saying 'stay here with me'. But she was too stubborn to ask him directly, that he also knew, and yet he felt like teasing her a little.

"What do you wanna do then?" she opened her eyes, finally, and looked at him silently. Her usual blank stare was piercing through him, like trying to non-verbally communicate what she wanted. And it did, he knew, and she knew that he knew, and she also knew that he wanted her to say it. But just like a stubborn cat, she didn't say anything else. She adjusted herself on the bed, changing positions slightly, and stretched; a yawn that almost resembled a meowl escaping her lips. And then nothing else; the message was clear. She wanted him to join her in bed and cuddle, because she missed him while he was out, but fire would fall from the sky before she said that out loud even though they were in a long-term relationship. Typical Itoshi, he thought. It was like Rin calling him 'lukewarm' all over again.

"Just do whatever then..." she finally said, still refusing to admit what she wanted. "I'll sleep.."

"Wanna cuddle?" he could almost see the imaginary cat ears on she had on his head twitch in alert, and the thought almost made him chuckle. He silently walked towards the bed and layed down next to her, where almost instantly she trapped him on her arms. Head laid on his chest and his arm used as a pillow, she became inmediately relaxed as she took a deep breath of his scent.

"You stink." yet she made no effort in pulling away. He could almost hear her purring like an actual cat.

"I'll go take a bath if that's the case." he said it as a joke, and then laughed when he heard her mumble a complain.

"No." he didn't actually stink. He did just return from training, but he took a shower previously right after he came home.

He then placed his free hand on top of her head and started playing with her hair, and she let out a sigh as he felt his fingers scratching her scalp softly, yet just right.

"Better now?"

"Yeah..." she purred, finally letting down her walls again. "Missed you."

"Missed you too." he placed a soft kiss on her head. "You still don't wanna go out?"

"Hmm... too tired..." she murmured. "It's comfortable here..."

"Alright, then. We'll celebrate lowkey this year; let's just chill... you hungry though? We can still order takeout or whatever."

"Noooo... just stay here." she gave him a bite when he tried to sit up. An old habit she (according to Sae) had ever since she was a kid. To bite people she likes; she would apparently always get in trouble for bitting Rin or him when they were little. Their parents would discover the bite marks on their arms and ground her because she isn't an animal, or her teachers would call home after she bit some of the classmates or teachers she particularly liked. It was weird, Sae stated, like Rin's strange habit of drooling and sticking out his tongue. Seems none of the Itoshis can be normal members of society.

"Ouch." the bite didn't really hurt but it was always funny to pretend it did. He didn't mind it; he thought it was cute. "Okay, I'm staying in bed. Happy?"

"Yes."

"You still want your anniversary gifts at least?"

"I don't need gifts, nor anything else; I just want to stay like this." he smiled before moving his head down to press a kiss on her lips, which she recieved happily, his own lips moving in experienced synchronization with hers. He stayed there, refusing to pull away for a while, because she was right. This was too comfortable to do anything else; it was better to stay like this.

Oh, well, the ring on the gift box he had prepared would have to wait another year, but this moment made it all worth it.

A/N: I love Isagi too much y'all 😭🙏

Btw this was inspired by an oc of mine, that's why it's so specific; I was just thinking about her and wanted to write something.