#come for me or don’t i don’t care anymore ha!!

[sorryimananti-romantic]

to a dying? atinyblr

i don't usually speak about these things, but a lot of blogs (amazing writers) are leaving this platform or taking time off bc of lack of engagement which serves as a big demotivating factor. especially and specifically in this atiny fandom, some things have come to my attention and i just want all readers and writers to take a look at this post and refresh some reading and writing etiquettes, as well as revive the essence of being a part of this fandom.

feedback:

i understand that there are a lot of silent readers on here, but since tumblr is dying and our fandom is not very huge, the least you can do to show the writers some support is like the post. 

which brings me to the point that the like function didn't even exist in the past. this site still runs on reblogs. as readers, to show your favourite writers some semblance of support, you should be reblogging with tags. a simple ‘#ateez x reader’ or ‘#ateez fics’ is enough. it's literally not asking for much– reblogs are the only way writers can get reach.

if you cannot do that bc of your blog's aesthetic or whatever, side blogs exist. if you still cannot do that, a simple anon ask appreciating the writer sometimes saves them.

also, what has happened to the quality of reblogs? readers consume years of writers’ work and efforts in mere hours and don’t even leave any feedback? art in general in all forms is very underappreciated and with all sorts of problems like plagiarism, ai writing and everything, true art and writing is dying and needs to be appreciated now more than ever. we’re literally the last generation witnessing ai take over in all fields of arts. appreciate content creators before it’s too late, don’t be a content glutton!

updates and requests:

asking writers for updates when they specifically mention that they would prefer posting at their pace is wrong for so many reasons– we all have a real life. you, the reader, do too. just like you don't always have time to read, writers don't always have time to write. do you ever see the writers asking their readers 'why have you not read my latest chapter?' 

most of the times, writers mention in their bio/faq post or elsewhere that they do mind being asked about updates. respect your writers, please, and do a little scroll before you send such demanding asks (also, sugarcoating when asking for updates does not make it any better!)

if you are only asking about updates, it demotivates a lot of writers bc these same people will disappear when it is time for feedback. writing is a form of art. we can write, artists can paint, musicians can compose music, but all of it has no meaning unless it is shared with an audience and appreciated. readers are just as important as the writers but there is no way of knowing fics are valued unless feedback is given.

the same goes for requests. you can only send a request when the requests are open, which is usually mentioned in the writer’s bio/faq post. it’s literally not that hard to check if requests are open and it’s basic decency to not send a request when the writers specifically mention that requests are closed. when sending a request, please be courteous. a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ are examples of being courteous when sending requests.

the fanfics in atinyblr:

i understand that you can read whatever you like, but why is it that in the atiny fandom, fics that do not contain smut hardly ever get attention? as a writer, i enjoy writing and reading smut, and while i am not specifically a smut blog, i have noticed how fics containing smut get far more reach than fics that do not contain smut– not just in my case, but other amazing writers as well. 

there are such amazing fictions in this fandom. all fics are crafted with dedication and care, yet stories without smut often get sidelined. writers are not able to express themselves in their writing freely anymore and they simply conform to a genre they know readers will consume, as they are forced to consider adding smut to their stories so they can get more reach in this fandom. i have heard accounts from a lot of writers who were inclined to add smut to an otherwise smut-free fic just for reach.

this is by no means hate to the smut writers. i am also not placing blame on them. smut drabbles have always been in this fandom, and there are amazing smut writers out there, doing their thing. it is the readers here who are failing the writers. readers are quick to talk about the lack of ‘good fics’ or ‘plot’ yet will not even bother searching for these works. there used to be a good balance and appreciation for all genres alike.

i know that smut is what's hot and trendy these days, and drabbles in general, no matter the genre, are easier to read when you want to take a short break. but there is such a lack of longfics in this fandom, especially as of lately, and as someone who has personally witnessed the ratio of longfics decrease exponentially, i felt the need to point this out. appreciate all writers! appreciate all genres! longfic writers need as much validation and encouragement as drabble writers, and vice versa! don't be too harsh on longfic writers for not pumping out fics at the same speed as shortfic writers.

and on that note, smut drabble writers experience a lack of quality feedback despite the high engagement, so readers, please don't hesitate to point out exactly what you liked about a fic, even if it's a short drabble! be kind to those writers, give them time to write and be kind when sending requests! they may post more often but they, too, have a life.

tags:

this is specifically for the people who will post a very normal picture of a member, no caption, but tag it something like #ateez smut, #ateez hard hours, #ateez x reader. and for the people who tag their asks with irrelevant tags– literally learn to tag your post properly, and stop crowding the wrong tags. you're just proving the point that if you don't tag a post with the smut tag or something similar, it won't get reach. if you've posted with a caption, that makes sense (though it still doesn't warrant some of the tags being used there).

as for writers, also learn to use your tags appropriately. fics that do not contain smut should not be tagged with smut related tags. believe in yourself. i get that there is the problem of reach but do not overcrowd tags with irrelevant material.

disclaimer:

this is by no means about me. if i cared about the notes, or lack thereof, i would have stopped writing a while ago. while it is challenging to be a writer here, especially as of lately, i still enjoy posting whatever i write no matter the genre or the word count. but it's a bit disappointing that my planned out fics get much less attention than a simple smut headcanons post that i wrote in the heat of the moment with my friend in literally a few hours as a joke (which has reached almost 10k notes btw in a span of 2 years). sure, it has exposed my blog to new readers but that's about it.

this post is for all the amazing writers who have left, are thinking of leaving, or are struggling to voice these problems because they are afraid of being marked as 'problematic' or a 'hater' or something worse. i am not afraid to voice my opinion on here, and if you think that i am wrong, feel free to interact with this post and correct me because i am not claiming that i am right about this.

these are just the observations i have made as someone who has been actively writing on this platform for about 4 years now, and since i have a decent number of followers, i hope this post gets more reach. do not be afraid to reblog this if you agree, and even if you do not, reblog this so someone else gets educated. i may have missed some points so feel free to add if you want too.

[gojos-version]

Take it.

Pairings- Y/N x Satoru Gojo

Summary- Porn without the plot.

Warnings- Tummy bulge, breeding, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it yall), mating press, doggy style, pet names (sweetheart, baby), praise, overstimulation

Word count- 1k

Proofread- ✅

A/n- Hi!! It's been a while since I last posted a fic :c I've been pretty busy, and I've had a lot going on so I couldn't sit down and write but things have been getting better so I can finally do what I love doing. Thank you all for your patience, as compensation I'll get out as much Fics as I can, so please feel free to drop any requests <3

⋆ ✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆

Satoru pins you to the bed, placing a harsh hand on your upper back. "Such a pretty girl." he Coos as his free hand thumbs your soaked slit. "Y-you know-" You're cut off when you feel his leaky tip at your puffed entrance making you freeze.

"Know what, hm?" He grins and slowly pushes his fat tip in making your walls spasm around him at the sudden intrusion. "Cmon baby, you look so delicious today let me give you a good fucking, yeah?", You blearily nod your head as he sinks his entire length into you.

Fuck. Fuck. Your tight warm walls squeeze the life out of his stupidly big dick, and he hisses in response. "Stop squeezing me baby, might finish too early." He grunts out and slowly starts thrusting his cock into your gooey hole. Shit, he can’t control the whimper that escapes his lips when his hard length sinks all the way into you to the hilt then pulls out to only sink back in till his pelvis goes flush against your hips.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of him now ramming his cock into you with pure need. Each thrust felt like he was trying to reach your lungs, like his cock was tearing your insides to mold and fit him and only him. Skin slapping against each other fills the entire room, a lewd Plap! Plap! Fills your head; your cunt squelching like something you'd see on shitty porn videos but fuck it was real. Your cunt was being so loud. Your body was tingling almost like it was on fire just spreading though each and every one of your veins.

With each thrust his leaky tip with precision would hit your g spot. That fucker had to be using his six eyes. "'Toru- Are you seriously u-using-hah- your s-six eyes-! hngh-!", “H-hah-! So, what if I’m using my six eyes- shit- it feels so good- fuck-!” He gasps out as his hands squish your ass cheeks, spreading them apart and watching as his dick bullies its way to kiss your cervix.

“Satoru- how’s that-! Isn’t it exhausting- fucking! Shit-!” Your walls flutter around him, squeezing the life out of him, “Heh- don’t care- can just use reverse curse technique.” He breathily gasps out. Fuck his body felt like it was going to explode any second, he could taste his release on his tongue threatening to come out at any second. Your walls clamp up and squeeze him so tight that he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Before Satoru knew it his dick explodes. White ropes fill you up, and when he comes, he comes so much. You shudder at the feeling of his cum breaching so deep inside of you, it felt like it could reach your throat from how deep inside of you he is.

Your body shakes from the orgasm that just got pulled out of you, your walls clamping and unclamping around his cock. Your insides tighten up when Satoru doesn’t slow down or stop after riding both of your orgasms out like usual. You cry out into the pillow as he fucks his cock into you speeding his pace up faster than before, your cunt- overly sensitive from your previous release- has your back arching and your hands curling into fists clamping the sheets below you till your knuckles went white.

"N-no-! S-slow doohhwwnnn!!" You scream out and he laughs when you pathetically reach a hand behind you and try to push his hips back- a failed attempt to stop him. He grabs your wrists with both of his hands; while not slowing down his harsh thrusts, he pins them behind your back and all you can do is lay there and take it. "Take it. Fucking take it." he moans out, his head falling back in pure pleasure.

Your eyes roll back, and your body feels hot. Too hot. The more pressure he used to pin your arms behind your back pushed your stomach deeper into the mattress causing it to put pressure on the lewd bulge in your stomach. Fuck right now you could incinerate. You sob out of pleasure into the pillow and cry out Satoru's name. “Shh baby, ‘ts okay... yeah... that’s it, sweetheart”, He coos out knowing full well on what he’s doing.

You let out a string of muffled moans as your hips try to meet his, following his thrusts while you weakly whimper into the sheets. "Thats it...such a good girl f'me, aren't you? Atta girl...that's it..." And before you know it, he pushes the weight of his body on top of yours, his chest and abdomen flush against your back, his hands release your wrists to just pin your wrists against your back with his chest.

One of his free hands grab your tit and the other mushes your face together and pushes your head up so he could see you. "My pretty girl..." He whimpers out and he peppers kisses all over your neck and jaw. "Mpphhff! Hnnghh!" Your muffled whines were music to Satoru's ears. "Hah- yeah..f-fuck 'm close..." His cock felt like it was in heaven, your gooey, warm, wet walls just milking him already had his toes curling and thighs tensing.

The both of you didn't notice it yet but, the lamp the both of you had on flickered and frankly so did all of Japan's lights. The hand fondling your tit moved down to your clit as he rubbed and pinched harsh circles making your stomach clench and your thighs tense in response.

"So- ah-rough-!" You managed to babble out, "Quit your complain'. You'll take it f'me won't you, baby? Gonna cum all over my cock, yeah?", That's the last thing you hear before your vision turns white and your body shakes; your body on fire while you squirt all over Satoru's cock and pelvis, your release dripping down both of your thighs and onto the sheets below.

You feel Satoru's own release flooding your insides as your walls pulse around him. When you finish coming down from your high you notice the rooms pitch black and..well..when Satoru opened his eyes he laughed. "Hah- looks like the powers out again...'ts okay we've got my eyes, baby." He chuckles out and sits up, flipping you over onto your back and he pushes your thighs to your chest and slips back inside of you making you gasp in response.

"H-hah- We're goin' all night baby. Take it, yeah?" You both weren't making it out alive tonight.

✩°｡⋆ 𖦹｡˚ ⋆ ✮ ༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆༺ ⟡ ݁₊ ⊹ ა ✧ ໒ ⊹ ₊ ݁ ݁⟡ ༻ ✮ ⋆

Masterlist<3

Tags!

@my-own-au-my-way

[theladyeclectic79]

It’s strange: I played vanilla DA:I back in 2014 and was obsessed with the game, but Solas himself never really stood out to me. When I try to remember back a decade ago, I don’t know if I ever actually finished the game - I remember starting and restarting it because I loved it so much and didn’t want it to end.

I never played any of the DLC as life had moved on for me when it came out. The game was and remains my favorite of all time, but I never really connected with Solas. My love was Cullen and his romance, and I still maintain that it’s the best in the series.

That said however: the CHOKEHOLD this man has over me after playing Veilguard. I am currently replaying Inquisition, and the amount of foreshadowing that game has is… My god. Just regular dialogue option with Solas, knowing now what I do after Veilguard - I understand all you long-time Solavellan lovers (and I haven’t even gotten to the Trespasser DLC content yet).

Solas is one of the best written villains I’ve ever seen in a game. I don’t even know how to put into words just how perfect he is. Everything he’s done, EVERYTHING, came from a place of goodness; he wanted to do the right thing but there were no objectively GOOD options, just the least-bad. Rendering the Titans tranquil, creating the Veil; he did these to keep worse from happening, yet they were still objectively bad outcomes. Even now, wanting to remove the Veil will kill untold numbers, but all he can see is how many terrible things he done and wants to atone.

That he cannot see (or care?) what devastation it will create is because he can’t trust himself anymore. He has allowed himself to be swayed before: Mythal convincing him to become corporeal even knowing the risks for a spirit of Wisdom; letting Mythal set the pace with the Evanuris, and seeing her murdered by them. His entire life, he has been convinced not to pursue what he thought was right and was burned, so now he’s afraid to be swayed again and for something else terrible to happen.

And so he walks his Dinan’shiral alone, knowing his death is at the end. He never wanted to live, not like that. His life is regret upon regret; he just wants it to end, but is desperate to atone for all the things he’s done along the way.

He’s just…so compelling. Millenia of regrets, so many things he wanted that slipped through his fingers. He’s unbearably tragic in a way few characters in media are, a classic case of “live long enough and see yourself become the villain.” And he HATES this about himself, because all he wanted was to help.

So in the end, he’s stuck on the road he created for himself because he cannot trust himself to walk any other direction. Reversing the Veil is the only thing he can do; he cannot bring back those he betrayed, but he can give the future what they lost at least. He’s trying to be heroic, but his vision is so warped by a lifetime of betrayal, pride, and too-hard decisions that he won’t let himself see anything other than the end of the road.

I wonder if BioWare knew all along what they were creating with him. Dunno if there’ll be another villain this good in media for a long time to come.

[xogiulianna]

BACK TO THE BASICS

no matter how hard you try - you always let hamzah back in

contains : ex bf hamzah (he’s kind of a dick), oral (f receiving)

this was the longest it’s been without hamzah showing up at your doorstep. it'd been almost two months, he hadn’t texted or called like he usually did, claiming that he missed you and just had to see you.

you like to believe that you’re a strong-minded person. you and hamzah broke up, and you live perfectly fine on your own without him. you don’t need him at all.

yet - somehow, he always finds a way to worm himself back into your mind, your heart, your bed.

he didn’t give you any signs this time, but there he was, standing at your front door, a smug look already adorning his features.

you immediately shake your head when your gaze lands upon him, not wanting to believe that he’s actually here again.

“no- no. i can’t do this anymore, hamzah.” you immediately dismiss him before he even speaks.

“what d’you mean?” he says, feigning confusion. “just wanna see you, it’s been a while.”

“i know it’s been a while,” you retort, eyeing him up and down. “it should stay that way.”

he scoffs, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. he glances off to the side, lightly shaking his head as if he can’t believe that you’re not immediately letting him in.

“i know you don’t mean that.” he says lowly, the tone in which he speaks piercing right through you like a knife.

your heart clenches in your chest - he’s right. you don’t mean it. you miss him. you just don’t want to admit it to him, or even yourself. he has a hold on you, subconsciously.

you want to keep a strong front, but deep down you know that hamzah is the only person who can break you down piece by piece.

“c’mon. i miss you.” he adds, rather bluntly.

“no, i- this isn’t how breakups work.” you murmur, your gaze softening.

you two had come to the decision that your separation would be mutual, but you both knew that you didn’t truly want it to happen as much as he did.

“this isn’t about us breaking up,” hamzah says, taking a step closer and leaning against the doorframe, a hesitant hand reaching out to touch your waist. “that doesn’t matter right now.”

his eyes move to meet yours, assessing your expression for any hint of refusal before fully snaking his arm around your back, his hand coming to rest in the curve of your waist on the other side of your body.

you can’t help but partially melt under his all-too-familiar touch. your eyes rake over him - his disheveled curls, the cocky ease in his posture, the grin plastered on his face. you hate that he still looks exactly like the man you fell in love with in the first place.

you’re torn between shoving him away and slamming the door in order to keep your dignity, or giving in to what you really want and letting him win again.

“of course it matters, hamzah,” you say, putting on a harsher tone. “you can’t keep doing this. you act like i’m just sitting around, waiting for you, all the time.”

“i know you’re not,” he quickly replies, lacing his voice with sympathy. “but that doesn’t mean you need to shut me out when i do wanna see you.”

“and what about my feelings?” you reply. “you only care about what you want.”

“only thing i want right now is you,” he says huskily.

“it’s not that simple.”

“maybe it is.”

his words hang in the air, suffocating your mind. the atmosphere felt heavy with the weight of his presence, his words seeping into every crevice of your brain.

you stare at him for a long moment. he tightens his arm around you, sending a chill up your spine.

“it’s not.” you finally reply.

“okay,” he huffs, cocking his head to the side so it rests on the inside of your doorframe, his face only inches from yours. “but you opened the door for me. i think that means something.. y’coulda just ignored me, no?”

you can’t come up with a good response for that. he has you beat. you saw him through the peephole and still chose to open the door.

you decide to just ignore the fact that he definitely knows exactly what’s he’s doing, persuading you to let him lodge his presence back into your life.

ignorance is bliss, right?

and the smirk that crosses his lips when you start backing up into your apartment, bringing him with you - god, it was more than enough to make your knees weak.

“don’t think this changes anything,” you mutter, reaching past him to shut the door behind the two of you.

“sure, baby.” he replies smugly, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs. he sinks his fingers into your flesh, picking you up effortlessly and holding you against his chest, your arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him.

he makes a beeline straight to your bedroom, laying you down gently on your bed like he’s done countless times before. you were a sucker for this twisted routine you two have developed.

he stands between your legs at the edge of the mattress, towering over you.

“god, how could i not miss you?” he mutters, seemingly to himself. “so pretty, all spread out like this.”

you stare up at him, brows knitted together as you watch him shamelessly eye you, his gaze filled with equal amounts of adoration and lust.

“hamzah..” you breathe out, your breathing tipping into an uneven pattern as you anticipate his next move.

“c’mere,” he chuckles, grabbing your calves and tugging you to the very edge of your bed. “wanna taste you again, beautiful. can i?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

you nod, your hands going to undo your pants but a harsh grasp landing around your wrist makes you immediately pause.

“no,” he says, roughly jerking your hand away from the button of your jeans. “you need to say it. you have to tell me you want this.”

“i do,” you whisper. “i want this - i want you, hamzah.”

he parts his lips, exhaling harshly as he sinks down to his knees, slotting his head between your thighs. his hands replace yours, effortlessly undoing the button and zipper on your jeans.

he glances up at you, his lips tugging into a sly smirk at the sight of you above him. your chest heaving, cheeks flushed, face all screwed up - looking so eager for him.

“always so beautiful, aren’t you?” he whispers, chuckling and shaking his head as he tugs down both your jeans and panties, letting them fall into a pool of fabric on the floor.

his gaze darkens at the sight of your newly exposed core, his breath hitting your inner thighs and making your stomach twist with anticipation.

his hands slowly travel up your legs, fingertips grazing your skin all the way from your ankles to the tops of your thighs. his insufferably unhurried pace makes you feel bothered and needy.

“hamzah, please.” you exhale, fighting the urge to just tug on his hair and force his mouth right where you want it.

he grins up at you devilishly, hooking your legs over his shoulders, taking a firm hold on your legs to keep you in place.

“look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes flitting over your features. “almost turned me away when i showed up, but now you’re begging f’me.”

he trails sloppy kisses up the inside of your thigh, making you whine. “c’mon,” he says into your skin. “ask nicely one more time, angel.”

you bury your hand in his hair, your other arm propping yourself up on your elbow so you can watch him. “please, i need to feel you.. fuck, i can’t wait anymore.” you plead.

he glances up at you, the words escaping his lips before he can think twice.

“tell me you missed me.”

your heart pounds in your chest, your lips hesitating to form the words that your mind wants to say so badly - but you just can’t give up the last ounce of dignity you were holding onto.

“hamzah, please don’t.” you manage to say, almost inaudibly. “don’t do this right now.”

his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs, his breathing getting heavier.

“fine,” he huffs. “i’ll just have to make you fuckin’ realize it.”

the words you were about to respond with are whisked away into a sighing whimper as he suddenly trails his tongue along your folds, stopping at your clit and pressing a kiss to it.

you watch his eyes flutter shut, a soft groan rumbling in his chest as his warm mouth envelops your mind, body, and spirit.

“oh- oh, my god,” you moan, your jaw hanging slack. you suddenly can’t seem to hold yourself upright anymore, and your back meets the plush surface of your comforter when you collapse down onto it.

your legs begin to involuntarily twitch as hamzah gets completely lost in your taste, his lips and tongue working overtime to do exactly what he wanted - make you truly realize what you’d been missing.

he lets go of one of your legs, letting it fall limp against the edge of the bed. he drags his fingers up your skin and to your entrance, circling the hole. he focuses on your clit, his nose pressing against you as his tongue swirls around the sensitive nerves.

he pushes two digits inside of your aching pussy, your walls contracting around them, pulling him in.

mindless whines tumble from your lips like a waterfall, your brain no longer having the capacity to form a coherent sentence.

hamzah always finds a way back in.

you feel his lips quickly form a grin before immediately going back to stimulating you, his fingers now curling up inside of you to hit the perfect spot, his mouth and hand working in harmony to bring you closer to release.

he knows you’re weak, he knows you’re giving in - so he repeats himself, just to get the answer he wants.

“fuck- now say it. tell me you missed me.” he rasps in between small kisses and licks on your clit.

this time, there’s no hesitation. drunk words are sober thoughts, and you were definitely drunk on him.

“oh, shit- fuck! yes, i missed you.. so much..” you cry out, your back arching up off the mattress.

“there’s my girl,” he murmurs, letting go of your other leg and pulling his fingers out of you, sucking them clean of your juices. “i fuckin’ knew you did.”

he pulls you even closer to the edge of the bed, practically folding you up and pressing your knees into your chest, pinning you down firmly. “gonna make you feel so good,” he growls. “just like i used to.”

he delves his head back down, eating you out with double the intensity. heat floods your stomach, tension building rapidly.

hamzah is absolutely intoxicated, getting lost in the familiar reactions your body always has. he knows you better than anyone else ever will.

“hamzah, i.. i’m..” you fumble your words, trying to alert him of the fact that your restraint is slipping away.

“i know, baby.” he purrs, sloppily kissing your dripping cunt. “y’can let go. cum for me.”

with a few more strokes of his tongue up your slit, you’re suddenly trembling uncontrollably releasing against hamzah’s mouth with a high-pitched moan while he sucks at your most sensitive spot, hightening every sensation.

he hums in satisfaction, licking up every little bit of wetness that leaks out of your twitching body.

with a final kiss to your puffy clit, he pulls away to look at you and nearly finishes in his pants at the sight.

his gaze darts across your entire frame, taking in the glow of the sheer layer of sweat that now coats your skin, your twisted look of pleasure, your heaving chest and the baby hairs stuck to your forehead - it was the view he thought about every night since the breakup.

staring up at him, gasps escape your parted lips as you try and regain composure after your mind-bending orgasm.

he wipes his chin, ridding his face of the residue your arousal left.

“fuckin’ perfect, every single time.” he breathes out.

“this still..” you try to speak but end up whispering brokenly as you try to clear your mind. “..doesn’t change anything.”

he smirks.

“you said that last time.”

a/n: sorry for lowkey dipping on you guys for like a month but hopefully i’ll get some ideas and start writing again! thank you for so many notes on my last hamzah fic :)

xo giulia

[revelboo]

Hi Revel! Not a request or anything but I just wanted to send in an ask telling you how much I appreciate your works! There’s such variety to choose from and I’m constantly impressed with the storylines that you craft and everything you come up with! I love how much you’ve thought about each character and it really shows in your work. For example, you’ve gone into little bits here and there about how each of your Starscreams’ are different and you are just superb at showing it! (Your take on Armada Starscream is my absolute favorite!!) It’s really inspiring honestly and makes me want to get back into fanfiction again. I can’t tell you how much I look forward to checking your blog each day and seeing what you’ve been up to! Also your blog is so accessible! I cannot imagine all the links you have to put in and kept up with but I’m so grateful for it! Ah, sorry for the rambling but I hope life treats you well. :^] <3

Here’s a silly little photo for you! He is so little <3

Thank you! I’m glad you like my nonsense and go out there and write the things you love! 💕

Bee’s just a tiny bab.

Even If It Kills Me Pt 14

Armada Starscream x Reader

• Head lifting from where you’re idly drawing on his datapad, you go still at the smell of food. Actual, hot food not chips or cookies. And Runway chirps holding up a brown paper bag. Watching the other two try to seize it from him before Starscream huffs through his vents and picks you up to set down on the floor with the mini-cons. “How did you get fast food?” You ask as Runway pushes the bag in your hands and then drapes himself against your back when you sit crosslegged on the floor and open it, the other two creeping closer and openly curious.

• Wings lifting and falling as he retrieves an energon cube for himself and smaller ones for the mini-cons and joins you on the floor, he watches you remove little wrapped packages from the bag. “The mini-cons found it,” he says and you shoot him a look. “A human set it on an outdoor table in the park and Runway snatched it,” he admits with a grimace. You don’t look angry, though as you grab a fistful of little yellow sticks and shove them in your mouth, eyes closing. Watches Sonar and Jetstorm lean over to vent curiously, recoiling when you offer them a bit. “They can’t eat that. Unless you want them purging on you later.”

• “Thank you for taking care of me,” you whisper to the mini-cons and Runway affectionately butts his helm against you before seizing one of the mini energon cubes Starscream is holding out for them. Because you’ve been wanting real food rather than the junk food Star keeps bringing you. Know he’s trying his best, keeps stealing things for you and he’s been working on something lately in a corner of his habsuite, the paneling of the wall and floor pulled up over there. Not sure what he’s up to since he gets flustered when you ask, making you think it has to do with you.

• “I’ve told you that you don’t need to thank me or them for that,” he mutters before taking a deep drink. Aware of you grinning up at him before you turn your attention back on the food, eating much quicker than you normally do to make him feel guilty. Because he’s almost certain he’s doing a terrible job caring for you and you’re just too nice to say anything to him. You seem happier at least with him. When you have your nightmares and he remembers the bruises on your face when he’d found you, the resignation, he thinks about returning to that home he’d found you at. Wanting to find whoever scared you so bad you still can’t shake the fear. Knows he’ll likely never be able to get revenge on his tormentor, but he could remove yours from the face of this world. But if he does and you ever find out, you may not look at him the same way anymore and he can’t risk that. Wants you to keep smiling for him. To be worthy of your trust.

• “I know,” you say, looking up to find him frowning at nothing like he sometimes does. That little show and tell of scars was the most he’s let his guard down and had been enough to understand that he understands you, because he’s suffered at someone else’s hands, too. That he’s been through not exactly the same thing, but something similar enough and he’d not been completely broken by it helps you keep smiling for him. He’s gruff and awkward, but he’s kind. And you want to protect him and that kindness, because it means everything to you.

Previous

[stargazedwinchester]

Hey, for a request, how about an earlier seasons Dean x Reader scenario in which they got a little crush and flirting going on, sparks between them, but Dean's a little worried that John won't approve? 👀

Your texting moodboard and the image of the "I love you. Don't reply, this is my dad's number" kinda inspired this idea!

Forbidden ♡ Dean

Summary: John doesn't approve of you dating his son, Dean. Word Count: 1,037 Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Thank you for requesting ily!! I love this bc I love JDM <3 what a dilf A little bit of Negan came out here (sorry not sorry)

When your parents passed in such a cruel, sadistic way, Dean was the one that saved you. He was the one that introduced you to hunting, to really get a feel for the life that could’ve been if you knew you could save your parents.

That gnaws at you every damn day.

At this point, you had known Dean for roughly a year, joining him on late night drives to dive bars, drinking til you can’t see. You’d stay with him in motels close to your hometown, just for the sake of company. You don’t have a lot here anymore. No close family, old school friends turned acquaintances, so you can really just rely on Dean and his younger brother, Sam.

Oh, and John.

John is a tough nut to crack. Majority of the time, you can’t tell when he’s being genuine or an absolute dick. You know Sam and Dean had a tough childhood with him not being present enough in their lives, so that fact has already somewhat helped you decide from the get-go. You had tried multiple times in the past to get on his good side: trying to get to know him, stay friendly with his sons, and most importantly, stay out of his way.

“You wanna come with?” Dean invites, pulling his jacket over his shoulders. His dad sits in the front seat of the impala, waiting for Dean to finish up. “You think he’ll let me?” You peer at John, his eyebrows scrunched, glaring at Dean. Dean looks over his shoulder, John ushering him to hurry up. “Hell what he thinks. Come with me.”

You press your lips together firmly, believing that if you join them, it’ll end badly. “Dean.” He calls, his voice stern and impatient. “We need to go.” John rolls the window up, and Dean rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t like me, does he?” You focus your eyes on Dean, who shakes his head lightly. “He doesn’t like anyone. Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll figure something out.” He flashes you a quaint smile that makes your tummy do somersaults. You place a peck on his cheek, and he blushes almost immediately. “I’ll miss you.” He says, and you smile. Dean walks down toward the car, then drives off.

It’s been a couple of weeks, and you haven’t heard much from Dean except the odd text from random numbers. One read: ‘I Love You. Don’t reply. This is my dad’s number.’ Times like these make you ill with worry. Worry that Dean’s not safe and there’s nothing you can do. You trust that he can take care of himself and you care for him deeper than you’d like to admit.

A few hours go by and you find yourself nose-deep in your book, ruminating in the same motel room as before. Dean had mentioned about being gone for a day or two, so he paid for your room on your behalf. There’s some light commotion outside. Since the voile is practically see-through, all you can see is the motel sign gleaming through the window. The rowing gets louder, as you see two male figures almost butting heads close to your room. Putting your book down, you head over to the window and see John and Dean in each other’s faces. Again.

“She’s not an issue, dad! You haven’t even given her a chance!” Dean spits. “I don’t need to give her a chance when I’ve seen enough. You need to give her up.” John retorts, and Dean pinches his brow line. “I’m not giving her up just because you say so, dad! I really like her, so get off my ass, man.” Dean attempts to turn around, but John pulls him back. “I’m not done.” He says sternly. John forces himself to be eye to eye with Dean, his cavillous demeanour ignites a fire inside you. He carries on.

“Listen, man, you don’t get to have an apple-pie life. End of the day she’ll be the first one to run when the bullet flies - and you know what? You’ll end up being the one to pick up the pieces, or the one that gets killed. So don’t you dare come back to me when you realise how much you regret being with her and you wanna come back to hunting. It ain’t gonna happen. Once you give up your life here; there’s no going back.” He threatens. John’s eyes are dark. Menacing. You feel as if you’re rewatching Dean’s teenage years reappear right in front of you. He has always mentioned that his father is a very strict person when it comes to ‘protecting’ his boys. That’s what he calls it. You open the door and meet them halfway. John turns his head and notices the scowl on your face, his aura stagnant. “John.” You state, not even bothering to make eye contact with Dean, but you can feel him staring at you. “I don’t care what you think about me, but what you’re saying to your son is far from the truth.” You say.

“You don’t know me. You clearly don’t know your own son and you have no idea about us being together. I don’t care whether you approve of me or not, but what I’m trying to say is that I love Dean. He may be your child but he’s sure as shit nothin’ like you.” You assert yourself, and John’s demeanour changes. His eyes soften, gazing upon your whole body. He looks at Dean, then huffs. Dean almost refuses to look his father in his eyes, as if he’s scared of what he could say next.

A smirk creeps up on Johns face as he’s still looking at you. His posture relaxes as he lets out a small laugh.”You’re the first person to ever stand up to me about my boys. You’ve got balls, Y/N. I like that.” John says, which takes you by surprise. This whole time you assumed John didn’t like you, turns out it’s quite the opposite. “You’re headstrong and you’ll look after my kid. You may not seek my approval but I’m giving it to you.” Jon looks over at Dean, who’s just as shocked as you are. “Thank you, sir.” You nod, and John walks back to the car. Dean sighs.

“Well, that could’ve gone a lot worse. I was starting to get a little worried.” He looks at you with a shine in his eyes, one that screams ‘my-father-finally-agrees-with-something-i’ve-done’.

“Thank God.” You breathe. Dean takes your hand and walks you toward the car. He opens the back passenger door, planting a kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.”

[mxymii]

ERROR

pairing | android!jjk x humanfem!reader

warning | 18+, smut, possessive/obsessive behavior, p in v, naive reader, dom!jjk, sub!reader, unprotected sex, etc.

summary | when your android bot hates having people steal your attention from him…

a/n | hello guysss!!! so glad that you all loved my previous posts! i appreciate so much and now with this one i have decided to steer away from squid games a bit and get into k-pop starting with the man himself, jungkook. i hope you all enjoy and pls feel free to leave any feedback ! (i have the warnings up for you all to read, i am not your parent and will not tell you what you should or should not read :))

hard eyes stared back at you as you tried to continue your conversation with a fellow friend of yours. having a bot in your house was something you didn’t think was going to bring you so much trouble, but there he stood with a hard glare at the man besides you.

you could tell that your friend was getting uncomfortable with the stares jungkook was giving him, which had you stand up and drag him to a more secure spot. “jungkook stop it. why are you staring at him like that?” you told him softly, being careful to not let your guest hear your conversation.

“get him out before i do it myself.” he said harshly as his eyes glowed blue, a sign of anger coursing through his wires.

“jungkook i can’t just kick him out, we are simply just catching up. i would prefer if you will excuse yourself for a minute, go charge up or something…” you tell him as your hands slide down from your face, frustration building up. this wasn’t something knew. he always acted out whenever someone was either too close or invaded your house, he hated having people over.

his hand quickly grips your face, his finger firm enough to apply pressure but not too harsh to harm your face. “do it y/n, i’m not asking you again.” seeing this new side of jungkook scared you, he had become more possessive over you but you just brushed it off as him being protective. that’s what the manual had said.

he quickly pushes you back into the room where your guest stood, you didn’t want it to end like this but you quickly apologize and ask them to leave, letting them know you would catch up later on. as you try to say your goodbyes, jungkook is quick to shut the door close and lock it, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“you don’t listen, do you?”

“kook..what are you talking about?” you try to talk to him with his sweet nickname that he loved but it didn’t work at all. although he was a android, his humanly features were very prominent. if you had seen him in the street you wouldn’t even know he was a android.

“i don’t want people coming here anymore. it’s only going to be me and you, that’s it.” he said firmly as he made his way towards you slowly.

“you can’t make that decision, it’s my house jungkook, plus you’re my bot and you do as i say…” your breath hitches up as his hand grips your throat tightly. “well baby..the rules have changed.”

your eyes widen at the fact his demeanor changed overtime, jungkook was never like this but being so naive and trying to justify his actions you failed to realize how crazy he has gone. “what? can’t talk now?” he states as his lips graze the side of your face, his finger marks being visible by how firmed he had gripped it earlier.

“no one is allowed near you..you stay here with me y/n.” he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your neck, sucking and teething to leave marks all over your skin. “jungkook…” you whine as you try to push your head away, although your mind tells you this is wrong your body betrays you, asking for more.

“i bet he wasn’t able to have you like this huh?” he locks his gaze with you for a minute before smashing his lips onto yours, nibbling and sucking on your bottom lip to give him access to his tongue. “kook…”

he picks you up just to drop you on the couch, his hand fumbling with your pants as he quickly takes your garments off as well. his knee meets with your cunt as he has you grinding on him. “you’re mine to kiss, to love on, to look at…” he says against your ear as his grips your waist, helping you grind on him faster. “fuck jungkook..”

“if i see anyone in here other than myself, ill kill them y/n. is that what you want?” he trails his hand down to your clit, massaging your clit in circles. the way he was talking to you was just making you turned on even more. your head pushed back against the cushion as you feel his finger plunge into you at a fast pace, not even letting you adjust for a bit. “fuck!”

“look at you…so fucking wet for me..” he whispers softly as he leaves wet kiss against your body, trailing down towards your wet pussy. his tongue darts down to your clit, as he sucks on it harshly, his finger picking up the pace even more. the room is filled with screams of pleasure and wet noises coming of your pussy but you could care less, the amount of pleasure he was giving you was all new to you.

“fuck jungkook! please don’t stop!” you screamed as your fingers gripped his hair tightly, your legs furiously shaking as you were close to your high. “gonna cum baby?” he says softly against your clit for a second as he continues back to sucking your clit and pussy lips clean.

“ngh jungkook!” you screamed as your body shook from the intense orgasm he had given you, he quickly sucks your cum up but lasting a bit longer which as your legs shaking a bit from the overstimulation.

he quickly takes his pants off, his cock hard and oozing out with precum. he bumps his cock at the sight of your tired body from the orgasm you just had but that only stimulates him more, he wasn’t done you just yet. he tease his tip against your entrance. soft grunts and groans leave past his lips. “no one can fuck you except for me baby..you’re mine.” with that he thrusts into you, hard.

leaving no room for adjustment, he is quick to set a pace, his hands digging onto your skin knowing that’ll leave a mark the next day but you couldn’t even protest as your eyes rolled back and your mouth was left agape.

“so fucking tight baby..” he moaned as he tilted his head back, sweat trickled down from his forehead. he could easily cum right there by how your walls clenched onto his cock but he held himself back, wanting to have you cum before him.

“fuck! jungkook!” your nails clawed against back, your head tilted back and your hair sticking onto your forehead. he grunts at your moans and the way his name left your lips, his guided his hand back onto your clit as he touches it vehemently. his other hand quickly grabs onto your legs as he lifts it up high, the new position giving him more access to feel deeper into you. he didn’t think he could hold back any longer as his grunts turned into loud moans, chanting praise against your ears.

“cum with me baby..” he moans softly as the both of you shook and came unraveling. “shit! fuck y/n..” he moan softly, his thrust slowing down as his cum filled you up full.

“this’ll teach you something now.”

a/n | helppp that was it !!!! hope you all enjoyed!!!

mxymii out!

[notlongtolove]

thanks to the light you shower

it flashed a muted grey, understated but stark as ever in the dim of your living room—blocked. you stared at it, blinking like it might change with every refresh. it never did. you thought, maybe you should’ve seen that coming, too. if she can leave—what’s to stop spencer from walking away too? what’s keeping him here?

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst, hurt comfort

content: based on this ask! reader spirals during a friendship breakup and spencer is there to comfort and reassure her tldr spencer reid best bf ever agenda lives on

word count: 3.3k

note: thank you sm for requesting, i hope you like it! also thank you to the ever so lovely @angellic4l and @floraisunwell for helping me proof read this !! <3 was feeling RUSTYYYY i didnt mean to format it like this but i came across a lovely little poem that i loved and hopefully you like it too!

a line: Nostalgia might make a good glue, holding the cracks together when things get shaky, but it’s never to be used as a foundation.

My notebook has remained blank for months thanks to the light you shower around me. I have no use for my pen, which lies languorously without grief. - ha jin

You hadn’t seen it coming.

Well, maybe you did. Lesser texts, lesser calls. Shorter silences that stretched and grew into no texts, no calls, nothing. You should have seen it coming.

What you hadn’t expected was the notification. It flashed a muted grey, understated but stark as ever in the dim of your living room—Blocked. You stared at it, blinking like it might change with every refresh. It never did. You thought, maybe you should’ve seen that coming, too.

You live in a house of cards, its edges delicately balanced with relics and routines you’ve spent years upholding—But houses of cards aren’t built to last. Nostalgia might make a good glue, holding the cracks together when things get shaky, but it’s never to be used as a foundation. 

You hadn’t planned for it to end like this. You’d planned for something else entirely. You’d thought through the steps before the call, rehearsed the words—openings, explanations, apologies, questions. Hi. Hello. I know it’s been a while. Did you forget about today? I waited. It’s okay; I didn’t mind waiting. You’d planned for every possible response, every tangent of the conversation. You’d even practised sharing the updates you were sure she’d care to hear. The call had been brief at best. Few words exchanged, each one clipped and hurtful nonetheless. You don’t make time anymore. You never make time. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not in the slightest. There was the trip you’d booked together five months ago. She’d said the tickets were refundable on the call, her words were painfully unbothered even then. The email with the refund had been the last thing she sent you. 

You’ve changed. Have you really? You’d wondered for hours afterwards. She said you did. Now, you’re starting to believe her.

You don’t hear Spencer come in. Don’t register the sound of his keys clinking against the counter or the soft thud of his bag hitting the floor. He’s standing there in the doorway for a moment, watching you sink deeper into the couch. Normally, you’d already be burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the familiar warmth of his hands sliding around you—But not today.

Today, you don’t move. So, he does.

It’s clear something is wrong, he just doesn't know what. Quietly and carefully, he sets aside the book you’d abandoned onto the coffee table and then slides onto the couch beside you. His arms find their way around you like they always do—one hand threading through your hair, the other drawing slow circles on your thigh.

You surprise the both of you by speaking first. “She cancelled the trip,” you say dryly, eyes unmoving from the hardwood floor even when he nuzzles his face into your hair. 

“Something came up?” Spencer asks innocently. 

You shake your head. “Just cancelled it,” you reply, flat and matter-of-fact. 

He starts to say something, but you cut him off. “She blocked me.”

That lands heavier than the rest. You feel Spencer still beside you, his hand pausing mid-circle on your thigh. For all the ways Spencer always seems to know what to say and how to say it, you know he doesn’t have an answer for this. 

She’s been in your life longer than he has. Perhaps the one person who knows you as well as Spencer, maybe even better than yourself. He knows this, too. Spencer’s never had someone like that, other than you, other than the team. He’s spent too many years with his nose buried in books, his childhood built on facts and pages instead of people. But he’s learned and seen enough from everyone around him to know what it means to lose someone like that. 

Spencer can hypothesise the reasons. He’s good at that, good at putting pieces together, even the ones you try to keep from him. The distance had started long before the trip was planned—your recent promotion, longer nights at the office instead of out with her. Unanswered texts, missed calls. Spencer’s schedule didn’t help, his half-weeks spent in other cities. The move to his place had made sense at the time, it had seemed like the obvious next step. She’d been happy for you then, encouraged you to be closer to him. But “closer to him” had also meant “further from her.”

It had seemed like a fair trade at the time. Necessary.

Spencer presses his face into your hair, giving your hand a light squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he says finally. It’s so simple, so achingly gentle.

It’s much too nice, much too kind. You can’t bring yourself to start rebuilding your little house of cards. The cards lay untouched, scattered around you in a meek, pathetic, little pile. 

You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve him. 

The couch creaks softly as you stand, letting Spencer’s hand fall away from yours as you move slowly towards your kitchen. As much as things had changed when Spencer entered your life, you could never put this on him. You know him, love him too much for that. “Don’t be,” you say thinly, “It’s not your fault.”

You didn’t call. You missed her party at that one club she was always raving about. You stopped showing up for drinks. You did this.

“It’s not yours either,” comes Spencer’s reply.

The sigh that escapes your lips is shaky and shuddering. Exhaustion weighs it down, and Spencer doesn’t need to look at you to know tears are already streaking your face.

“You don’t know that. You didn’t hear her, Spence. You didn’t hear the way she was talking. It was—god, I was horrible,” you whisper, your voice barely steady. “Do you know I missed her birthday?”

“Sweetheart, you were working on a brief,” he says, like it’s supposed to absolve you of any guilt. “Even I barely saw you that week. It wasn’t your fault.”

You shake your head, your breath catching on a bitter laugh. “No, Spencer. I didn’t just miss the party—I missed everything.” You’re pacing now, as much as the small kitchen allows. When that proves too constricting, you stop, gripping the edge of the counter. Your eyes bore holes into the granite surface. “I called her at three. Three in the morning. Do you get how ridiculous that is? I’ve always been the first to call her. Always. And this year, I didn’t even remember until it was already over.” 

Your gaze trails upward to the small window above the sink where a framed caricature rests—a silly, exaggerated version of you and Spencer, drawn at some carnival she went to last year. She gave it to you for Christmas. It’s hard to think that you'll never receive another one from her. Birthdays, Christmases—she’d always said she’d be the one in charge of your “something old” on your wedding day.

You don’t even realise Spencer’s left the couch until you hear the gentle clink of a cup being set down on the counter beside you. You know he’s making tea—chamomile, with a dash of milk. Just the way you like it. Spencer steps closer, stopping just short of your space, giving you some room. 

“And you know what the worst part was? When I finally called, she just... she didn’t even sound angry. Just tired. Like she was expecting it. At first, I thought she was sad, or mad, or—I don’t know. Something. But she didn’t even bother to show up today.”

“She didn’t show up?” Spencer asks quietly as he reaches for the milk in the fridge. 

You shake your head slowly, your shoulders sagging just a little more. 

Spencer tries to keep his disappointment at bay seeing as his suggestion to meet her in person had been a hopeful one, born from his belief that face-to-face conversations could convey things that text messages or calls couldn’t. After all, studies showed that emotional confrontations were better handled in person—fewer misunderstandings, more connection.

It’s why he despises technology, why he once made the 45-minute drive back to your apartment after your sixth date, just so he could tell you he loved you in person. He’d thought the same principle would apply here, that sitting across from her over coffee might bring back some clarity or some form of resolution. That it could help mend something. But the thought of you sitting alone in a café, waiting for someone who never showed, splinters his heart.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

The tenderness in his voice threatens to undo you entirely. The tea sits untouched as you sink to the floor, your back pressed against the cool cabinets of the kitchen. You hear Spencer move, and for a moment, you think he’s going to pull you up, fuss about how the kitchen floor is no place to sit—how it’s probably crawling with bacteria and god-knows-what-else. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lowers himself to sit cross-legged in front of you. “I’m sorry honey, you didn’t deserve that,” he says softly as he reaches out gently to brush away a stray tear from your cheek. 

And because he’s Spencer, he knows you well enough to sense when you’re drowning in your own spiral, battering yourself with equal parts blame and self-doubt. So, he leans in just slightly, adding, “You’re not horrible, sweetheart. You’re human. Everybody forgets things sometimes. Even birthdays.” The cup of tea scrapes lightly against the tiled floor as Spencer nudges it closer to your thigh. He pauses, offering a small smile. “The team forgot mine last year.” 

“I don’t think that makes it any better, Spence.” He tilts his head, considering. “It doesn’t,” he agrees, “But it doesn’t make you horrible either. I know you care, you care more than most people do. That’s not nothing.”

“Do you think I’ve changed?”

“How so?” 

“I don’t know,” you murmur, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “I’ve never missed her birthday. Ever. I don't do that. I never thought this would happen. Like, we used to talk about the kinds of houses we’d get when we were kids. We always said we’d live next door to each other with one of those gardens that connected, with those big bay windows to read by. And now she’s just... gone?” you huff a sharp laugh. “How the hell does that work?”

Rebuilding your house of cards means reshuffling your deck entirely—creating a new order, moving forward with new people and leaving some others behind. You’re not sure if you have it in you to learn new rules for a game you’d grown so comfortable playing a certain way.

“It’s normal for things to change as we grow up,” Spencer says again gently. “It doesn’t mean what you had wasn’t real or important.”

“I know that Spencer, I know things change. I know people change. But I don’t—” You pause, shaking your head. “I didn’t think I changed.” You know you’re being short with Spencer, snappy even, but you can’t help it. All certainty feels like it’s crumbled beneath you, your sense of normalcy torn apart. 

Everything changes. Nothing stays the same. If she can leave—What’s to stop Spencer from walking away too? What’s keeping him here? 

Certainly not the way you’re curling into yourself now, your knees drawn up, arms hugging them tightly. The tea sits forgotten beside you, it's steam curling into the air. Spencer’s kindness lingers around you but you can't bring yourself to hold on to any bit of it. Maybe you’ve convinced yourself that even that will disappear if you even try to reach for it.

“I don’t like change.” You can hear the petulance in your voice, the way it makes you sound like a child begging for time to stop. You can almost picture yourself, small and desperate, hands outstretched to hold the world still for just a moment longer. 

“In a way, she’s not wrong,” Spencer says softly, breaking the silence, “I think you’ve changed. I think deep down, you know that too.”

You look up at him sharply, blinking through teary lashes. You wonder if he means it as an accusation.

“I just don’t think it’s a bad thing,” he adds gently.

Your voice is bitter when you finally speak. “I don’t see how it isn’t.”

Spencer hums thoughtfully as he reaches out, taking your hand in his. Slowly, he coaxes you closer, guiding you to sit in his lap. You resist for a second but his patience doesn’t falter. So, eventually, you let yourself be pulled in, resting against his chest.

“Well, you got that job you wanted,” he starts. “And the promotion you worked so hard for,” he adds after a moment.

You huff, the sound half a laugh and half a sob. “That doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a job.”

“It’s not just a job,” he counters, his hand stroking along your back. “It’s something you wanted. Something you earned.”

Your head shakes against his chest, your cheek brushing the soft fabric of his shirt. “Yeah, but at what cost? I messed everything else up. I got so busy, and I started—”

“You got busy because you were doing something you loved,” he interrupts softly, grounding you before the spiral takes hold again. “And I know it’s hard to see it like that right now, but it made you happy. You know over 65% of working adults report feeling disengaged with their jobs? But you found something you care about, and yeah, it made life busier, but it made you happier too. That’s more than just a great thing—that’s amazing.”

“I guess,” you mumble, sniffling into his shirt. 

“I’m just saying,” Spencer continues patiently. “Change is an enigma. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad. But there’s always a reason for change.”

“Bad reasons,” you mutter, almost under your breath.

“Not always,” Spencer says softly. “Change is growth.”

“Will you tell me? If I’m changing too much?” you ask quietly after a beat of silence. “It’s not that I don’t want to grow but… I just don’t want us to grow… apart.”

Spencer leans forward, his forehead brushing lightly against yours. “Sweetheart, I’m in love with you. I don’t think there’s a version of you I wouldn’t love.”

“What if I work too much?” you ask, tilting your head.

“I’d send a SWAT team to shut down your office.” A small smile breaks through and for a fleeting moment, you actually consider whether he could pull it off. Knowing Spencer? He probably could.

“And if I forget your birthday?” 

“I’d remind you by celebrating it for an entire week,” he grins. “But you’d never forget. You’re too thoughtful for that.”

“What if I’m not, though?” you press again, not entirely convinced. “What if I forget things, or miss out important stuff, and you’ll get sad or mad at me and—”

Spencer’s expression softens further, his hand reaching to cradle your cheek. “You will change,” he says calmly. “And I’ll change. That’s inevitable. And yeah, maybe I’ll get sad or mad one day—” 

“You got mad this morning,” you point out quietly.

Spencer’s lips twitch in a knowing smile. “You were mad at me first,” he counters.

“You didn’t kiss me goodbye,” you grumble.

“I did!” he insists, chuckling softly. “You were asleep, and I kissed you on the forehead. Twice, actually. And regardless, honey, I love you because you’re you. And you’re not going anywhere—not if I have any say in it. We’ll both change. We’ll grow together, and I promise that every version of me will love every version of you. I don’t think that will ever change.”

“You loved me even when I spilt scalding hot cocoa on your cashmere sweater on our first date?”

“I think I fell in love with you then,” Spencer says without hesitation, his smile mirroring your own. “Lots of things change, honey,” he continues, “Like how we’re getting a cat next week. You wouldn’t have been able to do that at your old apartment.”

You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips. Spencer’s never been an “animal person” outside of his fish—which he hadn’t even bothered naming until you came along. But getting him on board with a cat had been surprisingly easy. Even if you’d asked for a zoo, Spencer’s fairly certain he would’ve found a way to make it work just because you’re you. 

“Stupid apartment manager,” you grumble. 

“Stupid apartment manager,” Spencer echoes with mock solemnity. His lips twitch in a small smile. “And now all I have to worry about is my stupid hardwood floors.”

“We’ll train him,” you say with a smile of your own.

“Who’s we?” Spencer counters, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, swatting at his leg.

“Ow,” he says, the mock pain exaggerated as he rubs his knee. “See, I got shot in the leg. That’s change too.”

You scoff lightly. “Oh, and that’s supposed to be good change?” You ask, unimpressed.

Spencer leans back, his expression earnest. “If I hadn’t gotten shot in the leg, I wouldn’t have met you.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “That happened a year before we even met.”

“I got shot in the leg, which slowed down the speed I walked for a good year and a half. If I hadn’t been limping a little slower, I might’ve caught an earlier train or missed yours entirely. It’s a classic chaos theory example. Even the smallest variables can lead to the most significant outcomes. And I’d say meeting you was a pretty significant outcome.”

You roll your eyes, but this time a genuine laugh escapes you. The deck of cards may change, your house of cards may collapse every now and then and a reshuffle might be needed. But one thing always remains untouched in every game of cards: The Joker.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re perfect,” he counters, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

If there’s one thing you can always count on, it’s Spencer—Ever ready with his with his matter-of-fact tone and  Spencer-brand wit to coax a laugh out of you whenever you need it most.

Spencer, being Spencer, is right. Time passes, people change, and you have to trudge along with it—even as your fragile paper cards fall to the floor around you. There’s good change, there’s bad change, and sometimes there’s no change at all. 

Like how, now, even when you’re already smiling, laughter escaping your lips in small bursts, you still sit together on the kitchen floor talking for a little while longer, hands intertwined, cold tea by your side and all. 

When the cat arrives a week later, and his unexpected potty spot behind your fig plant by Spencer’s bookshelf is only discovered two days later? Bad change. Very very bad change.

When you finally get the cat fully potty trained and, three weeks later, track down a new version of The Iliad for Spencer with help from Penelope—a first edition, no less, despite his second edition being beloved? Good change. Great change even.

And when Spencer gets down on one knee 18 weeks later, right there by the same station where you first met, his knee now fully healed and you no longer rushing for a train? That’s perhaps the best kind of change.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: when you love someone by day6 (first kpop song rec hell yeah) a frame by jeremy zucker and chelsea cutler

[eternal-love]

I’m having a really bad day today, gimmie some Benny smut I know you’ve got something in that brain of yours 🤍

LEAVE

Pairing: Benny Cross x reader

Summary: You try to leave Benny, but he has other plans.

Warning: smut, toxic relationship, Benny being a pathetic ass, reader has a child, Benny gets physically violent.

Note: Couldn’t deny Miss Cross herself y’know? 😏I know I’m not as good writing smut but I do my best for you. Hope you get better and this makes you feel better! 🫶💗

Also, this is heavily inspired by a combo @aust-een and I had about how Jeff held back a lot from what the real Benny could have been. I just know Benny wasn’t this quiet nonchalant thing. He was jealous, possessive and violent.

Your life was monotonous, you woke up, got ready, had breakfast, went to your job, put your with annoying customers, came back home, slept. Repeat. That was up until you met Benny.

Your life did a 180, in your routine and emotionally too. Benny was an interesting character, he was a mistery to a lot of people. And to you too, your friend warned you to not even look in his direction, he was always cruising for a bruising. Him and his bike were in for any sort of trouble. That’s what drew you to him.

Your last boyfriend was too plain, too vanilla. You often sought out a way to create any sort of tension. With Benny, that wasn’t necessary. He was the problem himself. With you having to bail him out of jail more times that you liked to admit it. A part of you knew this wasn’t healthy. Specially not for your son, he saw everything.

Benny lived in your house, so, obviously you were the head of the house, you worked and brought in the money. But Benny didn’t care, he flouted in and out the house as he pleased. Anxiety ruled over you, not knowing if he would come back or not. You could stay awake all night just waiting for him.

At some point, you knew it had to be over, it wasn’t healthy anymore and you spent days more stressed than happy. So you waited for him to come back. You had put your son to bed upstairs. Your leg bouncing as you drank a beer, you heard the front door open and you saw Benny come in, black boots stomping on the wooden floor.

“What are you doin’ awake still?” Benny spoke up as he saw you in the couch, his eyes a bit tired as well as his voice.

“Waitin’ for you.” You said, putting out the cigarette on the ashtray.

“You ain’t gotta do that.” Benny scoffed, he took his pack of Marlboro Reds out his pocket and lit up just one, he walked towards the kitchen and grabbed a beer. He looked around, no food. “No food tonight, I see. That’s how you care for your man?”

“It’s too late at night, only cooked for Robbie and I.” You said, you stared at him as he walked around. He just smirked in disbelief at what you said.

“What’s with the face?” He asked you as he came back to the living room, taking another hit from the cigarette.

“I want to talk to you about something.” You said, taking in a deep breath.

“I don’t want to hear it.” Benny rolled his eyes.

He had been off and weird lately, you had believed you were crazy but no, you started to accept that he was in fact different.

“I can’t live like this no more, Benny.” You confessed as you stood up, your hands on your hips. “This ain’t right. Not for me or my Robbie. I want you to leave.”

You said, it took everything in you to get the words out of you. Because you didn’t know how he would react.

Benny pressed his lips together as he took a deep drag from the cigarette, shaking his head. “That ain’t happening. I ain’t leavin’.”

Benny was hard headed and he did not follow nobody. If he was told to do something, he did the opposite, but you were tired. Of everything.

“It’s not a question, Benny. I can’t keep carrying on like this. It’s eating me alive.” You said, trying to appear firm as you stood up.

“You can’t keep carrying on like this?” He repeated your words, you could easily tell he was mocking you. “What else did you think this would be?”

You stared at Benny in disbelief, a part of you thought you could have changed him. Make him more responsible, more emotionally present, more anything, but no. He was still the same troublemaker you met. It hurt you to kick him out but there wasn’t any other choice.

“I just want you to leave. Get your things and leave.” You said, the words getting stuck in your throat.

“So you can bring in another man? Who you gonna bring next? Cal or that son of a bitch with the camera?” Benny accused you, he was very jealous and possessive. He didn’t like bringing you to meeting too much, specially not when Danny or Cal talked to you. There was a reason he didn’t let you meet up with Danny to do his interviews.

“What are you even talking about, Benny? This is about us. You and I!” You snapped, he always tried to blame others for everything, because in his own words ‘he never asked anyone for anything’.

“Don’t even yell at me. Watch it.” He said, his voice monotone.

“I’m tired of you leaving without saying anything. And expecting me to take you back. I can’t keep waitin’ on ya. I just can’t. So please, leave. Because I can’t handle you being a son of a bitch anymore.”

Oh, that set him on fire. You, calling him a son of a bitch. He didn’t like that. There was a silence in which he clenched his jaw, put out the cigarette into the decorative table by his side.

“Right?” Benny said calmly before he snapped. And he threw the decorative table to the floor, making the flower vase break down to little pieces.

You flinched, Benny had his violent outburst, you hadn’t quite gotten used to them yet. Throwing beer bottles or anything on his reach. His nonchalant demeanor was something that was only a façade to either give you the cold shoulder or appear more brave with the club.

As soon as he walked towards you, you backed off, only for Benny to grab you by the neck.

“Who do you think you are?” Benny growled, his voice always held that nonchalant tone to it. Which you hated. You never knew if he did this because he cared and wanted to stay or just for the fun of it. “I ain’t asking anything from you, so you can’t come here askin’ anything from me.”

Benny was so close to your face, his hand wasn’t really gripping your neck tightly but he was holding you hard enough to scare you.

“I ain’t gonna let you go around like one of them loose women. You’re mine. Mine. You get it?” Benny whispered in your ear.

But you wanted this to end. For your son.

“I ain’t doing this because I don’t love you. I do it for my son.”

“I really don’t give a shit about your son. Never did and never will, doll.” Benny scoffed. “I should listen to what you’ve told me, give you a baby so you can finally shut up. So that I’ll never be able to fully leave you.”

Benny placed his knee in between your legs, pressing it against your core. Making you shiver, most of the time, Benny having you by the neck turned you on immediately, and it was working right now.

“You don’t want me to leave, do you?” Benny purred in your ear. “No words now? Did the cat get your tongue?”

Benny leaned in and kissed your lips, the friction of his knee with your core sent shivers across your body. You wanted to rip off his clothes, and so he did. He ripped open your shirt, those cheap buttons didn’t stand a chance.

“How many times have I told you I hate these clothes? Mhm?” Benny whispered. It was a two piece set, the sleeveless button shirt and the matching shorts. It was a look that was in right now, you had wanted to fit in. Albeit, Benny didn’t enjoy it. “You want everyone to look, don’t ya? Everyone. There’s a reason why I got you that jacket.”

Benny pulled you to the couch, throwing you into it. The jacket was the one that had ‘Property of Benny’ in the back, made you wear it every time there was a meeting.

Benny got rid of his colors, his jacket and vest on the floor as well as his worn out white tshirt, he got on top of you. His lips finding their way to yours, you tasted the whisky on his lips, made you hum. You were enjoying how aggressive he got at times.

His hand traveled from your hair to your breast, squeezing it through your bra, you moaned on his lips, your back trying to arch but his body blocked you from doing so. Then his hand traveled all the way to inside your shorts, his touch feather-like as he caressed you over your underwear, your toes curled up at the feeling, you shivered once again.

“My doll is so desperate. I thought she wanted me to leave.” He kept rubbing you over your underwear. You let out breathy moans.

You wanted to deny it. But you couldn’t even speak properly. He wasn’t even doing anything extreme and you were already losing it.

He worked with his hands, he was so masculine. The smell of Marlboro Red filled your nostrils. It made you so— ugh. You couldn’t get enough of it, or him. Even if part of you hated it, there was something about him that you couldn’t reject.

“I’m gonna make sure— everyone in the fuckin’ street knows who you belong to. Alright?” Benny grunted as he undid his pants, he was as hard as he ever was when he’s with you.

And to be fair, your ex-in laws lived next door. You were in for a ride as soon as he pulled down your shorts and underwear. His boxers came down as well.

“Don’t be quiet.” Benny said, as he filled you up with his cock in one swift thrust.

“Motherfucker!” You moaned out loudly, loud enough to blush afterwards. You saw his smirk.

He liked how he got to you. How much you were willing to put up from him. His thrusts were anything but gentle, the sound of skin slapping, moaning and grunting filled the living room.

“You like it? Hmm?” Benny asked as he relentlessly fucked you in the couch, but this want his favorite position, not at all. He found it boring to say the least.

Your eyes were rolling back, your mouth open and filthy noises escaped your lips, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Move.” He said as he pulled out of you, you whimpered when you stopped feeling his cock. Damn, that’s how much you needed him.

Eventually he manhandled you, he threw you around until you were in all fours. He was behind you and without any sort of mercy, he pounded into you from behind, his cock filling you up, giving you pleasure like no other.

“Benny… p-please” You whined, it was too much, he was too much. All of him.

“What? I’m sorry, can’t hear you.” Benny said, as his hand reached to grab your throat, squeezing the air you had.

It was the adrenaline of having no air combined with the pleasure of it. It gave you too much ecstasy. You didn’t even remember the last time he fucked you like this.

“I’ll leave whenever I want.” Benny whispered in your ear as he kept choking you, you tried to grasp on whatever air was possible. But it was in vain, and after a while, he withdrew his hand from your throat and slowly made its way down to your clit.

That was your breaking point and you couldn’t hold back your moans anymore. Every moan that came out of you came from the deepest of your soul.

His hand worked wonders on your clit, making you feel overstimulated, waiting for that usual feeling for being close to the edge.

“Keep… g-going” you managed to mutter through the moans. As his cock kept filling you up, you knew no guy could ever compare to him.

Not even one. And you didn’t even dare to think of it. Afraid that he could read your mind and get mad.

“We’re gonna have a baby. So you won’t ever kick me out again. So that your brat of a son— knows his place.” Benny kept going even faster and harder, it seemed like he was on the edge. “And so that photographer son of a bitch knows that you’re taken.”

“Benny!” You yelled as Benny hit that sweet spot of yours, pleasure erupted as you finished, your muscles relaxing immediately.

He kept fucking you, for at least a minute more before you heard his voice falter, his breath ragged. “Oh, f-fuck…”

Benny filled you up, made sure to not waste a single drop of his cum. After all, he wanted you heavy with his baby in a few months. He couldn’t wait to see your son’s face. That little brat. Knowing his mommy wouldn’t get rid of him.

“So good for me…” Benny leaned over you, whispering in your ear. “If you tell me to do anything ever again, I’ll do the opposite. Okay?”

[unhingedpolycule]

Haiii ! Love what you do and had two questions :

Do you think any of them would cry at the others burial (if they even want that ? Cremation ?)

And do you think one of them would wear glasses once they age a bit more ?

Thank you 🩵

Haiiiii! First of all, thank you for your ask! It made me think and it was a really cool concept to work with! You can find the (long) answer under the cut!

If the body is recovered from the warzone where they died, they would have a small service I think. Not because the other would particularly want or need it, but because the team would more or less insist and it is simply the social convention. It doesn’t really bother them either. That being said… they would not cry. Nikto would probably get pretty gruff, outwardly pretending that their relationship was not as deep as it actually was, so he isn’t too sad. Mostly because people keep giving him condolences. He does not like it, handling Sebastian‘s death is hard enough on its own. Krueger would just get… like very silent in my mind. Not directly pretending that it doesn’t bother him, but he would let his mask slip a bit. Instead of being detached on purpose, he just sits and reminiscence about Nikto and what he is missing right now. His voice, having someone to concentrate on and to care for as to make his life less eventless. He was Nikto’s caretaker and partner for years and he was used to being joint at the hip, always having an interesting and stimulating person around.

Both feel the urge to be alone. Krueger would go missing soon after, probably searching out Blaustein without telling him what is going on. Of course, Blaustein understands that something bad must have happened and he is smart enough to count two and two together. Krueger would find a new PMC, maybe he would even stay with Coalition (Blaustein’s faction) for a bit. But he is a wanderer at heart, so it wouldnt last longer than a year. Nikto was the only thing tying him to a specific faction, so he starts moving again, with regular visits to Hans though. As for Nikto… he would be pursued by Nikodim, who thinks that he is helping. Their relationship might very well break under that pressure, leaving Nikto much worse off, just because his stability and his support system is gone. He eventually rebuilds routine on his own, but before that, he would probably burn himself out in an attempt not to grief too much.

To make it short: Krueger would let himself feel what he feels, accepting it for what it is and seek the support that he might need. Nikto would very much do the opposite and repress in order to continue being functional, even if this ruins a lot of things for him. Both would be incredibly affected. I don’t know if they would actually cry. If they do, it comes over them in the middle of the night without any warning. They want to turn around to hug the other and they find themselves alone. For Krueger, it’s a few tears. Nikto is angry ugly crying, clutching the pillow and staring at noting.

Krueger keeps Nikto’s last pill bottle in his pack, using it for his own drugs. Nikto keeps Krueger’s net on his bedpost. Both store the other’s gear. Nikto in his room, Krueger with Blaustein, since Hans has a more steady lifestyle.

BUUUUUUUT since Krueger is an unkillable cockroach (derogatory) and Nikto is very capable and has a second pair of eyes attached to a man which would go to length to safe him… they are fine. Very fine. VERY FINE AND HAPPY. (I can’t do mcd unless it’s a “growing old” setting. I am weak.)

As for the glasses: very easy. Nikto is used to taking medication and having to subsidise for things his body is not able to do anymore (mostly because of his mental illness, but I also imagine him to have issues with mild erectile dysfunction/maintaining an erection if he is not actively having sex right in that moment.) so he would wear some cheap old man glasses. He has like three pairs, all various stages of scratched/disrepair.

Krueger on the other hand would not like it. At all. He has lived his life being able to do everything without aid, running into an active warzone without proper protection and coming out mostly unscathed. It would take some time until he could accept glasses properly. Not because of pride or of others seeing him like this, but because he has to admit that he is no longer fully “self-sufficient”. Especially because he has above average eyesight! Nikto would tease him a bit until he notices that Sebastian does not wear his glasses. They might have a gruff, short talk about it after Nikto sees Krueger holding his phone very far away from himself, squinting in annoyance while trying to read his messages. Krueger wears the damn thing after that. At home. Sometimes.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 59

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,500ish

Summary: Wade forces the group into a therapy session.

Warning(s): talk of death, sadness

Notes: I hope this isn't total trash. I think I completely overthought this chapter... Please share reactions! 

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

“Now,” Wade drawled, “who wants to get started?”

“Wade, forcing us to talk—“

“Is just want we all need,” Wade cut you off.

“You can’t keep us in here for long,” Logan retorted.

“Actually, I can since we can order anything from our phones. So, once again, who wants to go first?”

The silence was thick that followed. Your head hung as you wrung your hands together. Laura eyed you nervously while Logan leaned back against the wall, arms folded over his chest as he glared at Wade. Wade kept himself against the apartment door, twirling one of his golden guns.

“I could always start,” Wade broke the silence, “but I’m sure my story is not the one that needed here. We can do spin the bottle to decide or nose goes or—“

“Wade, stop,” you requested. 

You looked up at Wade with tears in your eyes, immediately putting Logan and Laura on edge. You almost had no control over your powers anymore. The slightest change in your emotions could be extremely dangerous for you.

“Don’t do this,” you pled. 

“Sorry, Buttercup,” Wade said with a simple shrug. “I’m just doing what has to be done. It’s what’s best for all of us… Wow. I’m really turning into the true hero type.”

Another wave of tense silence crashed over the apartment. But, as usual, Wade couldn’t stand silence for long.

“Maybe we should start with what happened on our way home from work,” he stated, a seriousness to his tone.

“I knew something happened,” Logan muttered.

“I was not a big deal,” you said, unable to look anyone in the eye.

Wade scoffed. “I had to scare off a drunk man who you clearly had a run in before.”

“What type of run in?” Laura asked.

“Well, he said that she burnt his jacket.”

“The night you came home with your hands burnt,” Logan whispered, putting the pieces together. 

“The man was clearly hitting on her and wanting more—“

“Enough, Wade,” you said, trying to keep yourself together. “Enough… I handled it then and I could have handled it tonight.”

“You shouldn’t be handling anything when it comes to your powers anymore, mom,” Laura said. “It’s too risky.”

You clenched your hands as they began to tremble slightly. Laura’s eyes fell to your hands as she began to worry about what your powers might do. Logan watched as Laura’s concern grew and could sense that you were growing more emotional. He pushed himself off of the wall and headed into the kitchen. 

“Don’t think you can get out of the fire escape, Peanut!” Wade shouted after him. “I will chase you down and we will have a repeat of the Honda Odyssey on our hands. But this time with witnesses. I’m sure that our Little Flame would love that.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan muttered. He grabbed the water pitcher from the fridge, a cup, and a few towels before heading back into the living area. He set the items down on the coffee table in front of you. “Here. Just in case.”

You looked up at him, unable to stop the few tears that escaped your eyes. “Why? Why you do try to take care of me? You don’t… we barely know each other.”

“I… I’m trying to do better.”

“Better? For who? For you? For… for the m you lost? I… I can’t be a replacement, Logan. Just like you can’t be for me.”

He shook his head. “That’s not it. You’re not a replacement and I’m not trying to be one for you… It’s… Yes, it’s a second chance in a way. This whole fucking new world is. And it’s not easy. But I’m trying to prove to you, to Laura, to Wade, to myself that I made the right choice by not following my instinct and walking away… Nothing good happens when I stay, but nothing good happens when I walk away.”

“I still don’t fully understand, Logan.”

Logan sighed. “Then… I guess I need to start from the beginning… I walked away from my version of you more times than I could count… I meet you for the first time when I first got to the mansion. I guess Wade would call the relationships an enemies to lovers. You didn’t trust me.” He smirked as he remembered his original you. “You were fiery and beautiful… and once I had your trust, you believed in me more than I have ever believed in myself… But I kept getting scared and I kept running. Every time I expected you to be there waiting for me to come back. I could see how much it was hurting you, you even fought me on it, but I continued to do it… Until one day, I came back after one of my longer stretches away and you had started something up with Hank.”

“Oh! Beastie getting some action,” Wade commented. You and Logan shot him a glare. “Okay, okay. I’ll remain silent over here.” Wade pulled out a small notebook and pen from his Deadpool suit. “Don’t mind me, just taking notes. Please continue.”

Logan moved his jaw around, trying to get back in a place where he could continue talking. “I confronted you about it and you put me in my place. But it still didn’t stop me from being an idiot… I left for the bar that night—“

“I know what happened,” you interrupted him. “You don’t have to say it again.”

“Yes, I do.” He met your gaze. You could see the seriousness in it and the sadness and guilt. “I do… You tried to get me not to leave… You called out for me, trying to get me to stay permanently… But I left anyway… I was drunk. More drunk than I ever have been… I only returned because I could smell the smoke… I knew it like the back of my hand. And I ran. But I got there too late… Flames were everywhere… students were dead… The X-Men piled like wood and burning… Hank had tried to save you… That much was clear. But he died trying… And you had died trying to save everyone else. I killed everyone who killed them and then some… This asshole,” Logan motioned towards Wade, “allowed me to have a second chance to be a better man… To be an X-Man—The X-Man. Yes, you’re here and you look like her, but you aren’t her and I am not trying to replace her with you… I just don’t want to lose what I’ve found. But I know that you’re struggling, seeing me. I know that I remind you of your husband. So, if my presence is only making things worse, I will walk away. Just say the word and you’ll never have to look at me ever again.”

“I don’t want that,” you whispered, shaking your head slightly. “I’m just… it’s hard… you look like him, but you’re not him. And seeing you has me realizing that I never fully grieved the loss of my husband—my family… On top of it all, my powers are dying—perhaps even killing me— and the only person I know can fix it, I’m not allowed to go near. I’m back in a year I’ve already lived, knowing that my past self and my husband are happily living not too far from here. It’s rough and I don’t want to burden anyone with my problems.”

“You’re not a burden, mom,” Laura said.

You shot her a watery smile as you reached over and grasped onto her hand. “Thank you, kiddo.”

“Any of us would do anything for you.”

“Kid’s right,” Logan agreed. 

“Like I told you earlier, Buttercup,” Wade spoke up, “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t want to put you guys out—“ You cut yourself off as flames began to flicker from your fingers. “Damn it.”

Laura took a towel and dipped it into the water. “Give me your hands, mom,” she requested.

You looked away as you offered her your hands. Laura gently wrapped your hands in the damp towel. Wade pushed himself off the door, tore off his mask, and sauntered over to you. His hands came up and held your face, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“You will always be my favorite superhero, Ember,” he told you, more sincere than you had ever heard him. “Even more so now. Your strength is more than your powers.”

“I don’t know how to do this… how to be helpless,” you cried.

“You’re not helpless, Buttercup. We’ll figure out your limitations and help you thrive where you can. You’re not one to give up and I’m not going to let you no matter how hard you try to.”

“None of us will,” Logan added.

“Just let us help you, mom,” Laura pled.

You swallowed and nodded. “Okay,” you rasped. “I’ll try.”

Wade pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he said. “Now, I think it’s time for a group hug!”

You laughed as Wade pulled you in for a hug and quickly reached behind you. He pulled Laura over who quickly joined the hug.

“Come on, Peanut!” Wade called, waving him over. 

“No,” Logan shook his head. 

“Come on, Logan,” you urged, glancing over at him. 

Logan’s eyes flickered from yours to Laura’s, who he could tell was hesitant but wondering if he was going to go through with it. “Fine,” Logan gave in and came over. 

Wade was quick to pull him in and the four of you hugged. It was a nice, weird family moment, but very much needed.

~~~

It was quickly decided that you were no longer allowed to walk home from work alone. Either Logan or Wade would be there with you or, in certain circumstances, Laura. Wade also insisted that you never work late on Thursdays and that becomes movie night. You were willing to make it work, though Logan wasn’t as big of a fan. You were forced to pinky swear with Wade that you would be honest when you weren’t feeling well, emotionally and physically. You quickly told everyone else that they had to do the same thing. 

As the days and weeks went by, it became easier for you to allow yourself to ask for help and let yourself be helped. Though, there were still times you wanted to hide away, you pushed through with the help of your make shift family. 

Unbeknownst to you, Laura, Wade, and Logan had teamed up to try to find you some help. Whether that help would be a telepath to reverse the damage that Charles had done or someone that could ease the pain that your powers now caused. Wade kept pushing for another multiverse adventure, but Logan and Laura were insistent that there had to be a solution nearby.

The summer flew by faster than you would like. It was late August now and you were getting your apartment set up for tonight’s movie night. Logan got off work early and got cleaned up before heading over to your place.

“Y/N?” He called as he entered the apartment.

“I’ll be right out!” You shouted from down the hall.

Logan entered the apartment fully and shut the door. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” you appeared in the living room with a few blankets draped over your arms. “Just grabbing these.”

“I can take those.” Logan grabbed the blankets and pulled them from you.

“Thanks. I’m gonna finish up dinner.”

“Need any help?”

You looked back at him with a smile. “Sure.”

Logan’s brows furrowed as he turned to set the blankets on the couch. Something stirred inside him when you smiled at him. You smiling at him wasn’t a new concept, but there was something new that sparked within him. He shook the confusion off and headed into the kitchen where you were working at the stove. You could sense him behind you causing you to quickly grab a spoon and scoop up what you were cooking.

“Here,” you turned to him. “Try this.” Before Logan could protest, the spoon was slipped between his lips. “What do you think?”

Logan took the spoon from your grasp, something shooting inside of him like a bolt of lightning as his fingers grazed your hand. “It’s wonderful, doll.”

“Really? What a relief! I’m trying a new recipe and I didn’t know if you would like it.”

“Didn’t know if I would like it?”

You shrugged, turning back to the food. “You are the pickiest one out of all of us. Wade will eat anything and I already know which foods to avoid with Laura, you’re the one I’m still figuring out.”

Logan’s insides warmed at the thought of you worrying if he’d like what you made. It was pretty sure that he’d eat anything you made. “Well, I—“

“Mom! Mom!” Laura came bursting through the door with Wade hot on her tail.

“What is it?” You asked, hurrying from the kitchen with Logan. “Is something wrong?”

“I finished!”

“Our Little Wolf here got her GED!” Wade exclaimed.

“Oh, kiddo!” You rushed over and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Good job, kid,” Logan congratulated. 

“Thanks,” Laura responded with a smile. 

“So what colleges are we going to try for?” Wade asked. “I’m sure me and Peanut can scare some Ivy League schools into admitting you.”

Laura shook her head. “I’m not applying anywhere. I can’t leave, mom.”

“Sweetie,” you breathed out, taking her head in your hands, “if you want to go to college, I cannot be the thing that stops you. You need to live your life despite what’s happening with me. Do you want to go to college?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will apply wherever you want to and we will figure out the rest when the time comes. Okay?”

“Okay.” Laura pulled you in for another hug. “I love you, mom. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“I love you too kiddo.”

Logan smiled at the sight of the two of you. He was always amazed at how you had raised Laura and the connection the two of you had. 

Wade caught the look that Logan was giving you and smirked. He knew that it was only a matter of time before one of you sparked feelings and he wasn’t surprised Logan was first. Wade had traveled through multiple universes and had seen that every Wolverine had an Ember in some way or another, like they were drawn together with an invisible string. And despite you and Logan having previous versions of each other, Wade had an inkling that the two of you were also meant to be. Wade walked over to Logan and nudged his side.

“Hey, Romeo,” Wade whispered. “I think it’s time to start making the moves.”

Logan scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned on his heel and went back into the kitchen.

Wade laughed. “Oh, the fun has just begun.”

next chapter >

[bullet-prooflove]

It's me! Hi! 😉

From Midnights prompt list

24)  In the kitchen humming for Terry and Georgia (and if possible baby Sebastian) please 😊

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @mia1653 @kimbergoldess @cortmac1989

You’ve just stepped out of the shower when you realise the baby is missing. There’s an empty space with a towel wrapped around you, your hair tousled and damp as your heart palpitates in your chest.

Sebastian is two months old and can barely raise his head, there is no way he escaped on his own accord. Immediately your brain goes to John Kreese, but you remind yourself he’s dead, that he can’t hurt the two of you anymore.

It’s when you hear Terry’s voice coming from the kitchen that you start to calm. You follow the gentle sound of his humming, not caring that you’re dripping water all over the floor in your haste.

You pause when you reach the doorway, lingering as the relief fills your body at the sight of Sebastian cradled in his arms, half asleep.

“I know your little tummy hurts.” He murmurs, his lips brushing over the baby’s forehead as he sways gently from side to side. “But you’re being a terror for mommy.”

You hate to admit it but he’s right. You suspect it’s the reason that Terry’s home from work early. Colic has been driven you to tears more than once since you had Sebastian and the fact you can’t sooth your son devastates you.

“He hates me.” You’d told Terry last night, after he’d put Sebastian down for the night. “He won’t sleep, he cries all the time. Nothing I do is working. I feel like I’m failing him.”

You’d fallen apart then and Terry had kissed away your tears as he cradled you close, whispering the sweet reassurances into your hair.

“You meant it.” You say softly and Terry turns to face you, his palm resting on Sebastian’s back. “When you said you’d be around to help more. I thought…”

You trail off because you’ve been in a bit of a fog since you had the baby, exhausted, unable to ask for help. You’d seen it as a weakness because mothering, it seems easy for everyone else but not for you. You worry all the time if you’re doing the right thing for Sebastian.

“You thought I was placating you?” He questions as he kisses Sebastian’s tiny fingertips and you nod your head, unable to speak.

“Georgia.” He says softly. “Parenting it’s hard, it’s probably going to be the hardest thing we’re ever going to do. I would never leave you to struggle with it on your own. I’m a fool for not realising how much of a tiny tyrant he was being, for not seeing you needed help.”

“It’s not your fault.” You say quietly as you grip the towel tighter around your body. “I thought it would come naturally to me but I’m finding it hard to connect because he doesn’t want me…”

“He does want you.” Terry reassures you as Sebastian grumbles. “Right now he’s showing preference because I put him to bed at night after work, if we start doing that together he’ll start associating it with the both of us and that preference will slip.”

“Do you really think that’s it?” You ask him, your fingertips caressing the baby’s featherlike dark hair.

“I do.” He tells you with so much surety that it relaxes something deep down inside of you. “I know he’s exhausting you so let me take over for a while, give you a few hours to yourself. Take a nap or a walk on the beach, spend a little time in the studio, just do something for yourself for a while. I’ve got him.”

“You’re sure?” You ask him and Terry gives you a stern look.

“Georgia.” He says, tilting his head towards the closed art studio door. “Go have yourself a little fun.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[zahri-melitor]

Thinking more about Tom King; I do wonder how much of how he’s viewed on tumblr is a result of the following two facts:-

The majority of the DC comics fandom on tumblr does not have personal memories of 2001

The majority of the DC comics fandom on tumblr is not prepared to give government security or intelligence the time of day as having a necessary purpose

It sounds a bit ��you don’t know what you’re missing’ but fundamentally I think part of the problem is that you’re (generally) too young to appreciate many of King’s fundamental storytelling elements, because you’re too young to remember or care about the topics he keeps going back to interrogate.

And this is something that comes up in conversations I have with friends who are school teachers and university lecturers all the time, because September 11 for the majority of their students has now moved from category 1 here to category 3:

Core ‘where were you’ memory (people born early 90s or before)

Foundation of their childhood status quo (mid 90s to mid 2000s; maybe as late as 2007-2008)

History (late 2000s onwards)

They’re the ones at the forefront of talking about this with their students, and it’s moved from ‘default background for undergraduates’ now into ‘history that has an effect on the present’. They’re now too young to have soaked in the exhaustingly omnipresent US patriotism of the culture of the 2000s. And so the reaction of current students as a cohort to things heavily based or reflective on this period is fundamentally different to someone who lived through it.

A similar, earlier comparison would be writers who frame everything through the lens of the Cold War as an analogy for their writing. I’m a category 2 for the fall of the USSR, and I grew up with that dividing line; there was a lot of media made in the 90s that still premised the Soviets as existing into the future (very early 90s stuff that hadn’t been fixed in time) or that frantically had had a word find-replace for “Soviet” to “Russian” but the general attitude hadn’t changed (good comics example here is go read any of KGBeast’s appearances around Knightfall in DC comics; they’re really struggling with what to do about him). There was also even more media that still wanted to hammer Cold War themes but invented new fake countries to overlay it onto and to discuss as being the background of proxy wars, so they had the out of ‘this isn’t a real place, it’s Markovia/Kaznia/Pan Balgravia or Qurac/Kahndaq/Bialya’.

Many of these got further use for decades up until the present, partly because Central Asia has remained a hotspot for conflict for decades as a result of the fallout of the Cold War proxy conflicts, and partly because shoving extra expy states into Europe means you can play with the politics without having to be exact.

Because to me, this is what I see King doing to the present. And why it sticks out is that most people aren’t harping on the themes constantly anymore like they were 20 years ago. But for King it’s a well he keeps going back to because he was so heavily involved in it and didn’t really get the chance to start processing it until he left the CIA around 2010 and started working his feelings out in stories.

Because yes, at this point he’s beating a dead horse, but there are also incredibly successful writers of military thrillers who are STILL writing veiled ‘it’s the Soviets’ or ‘it’s the Arab Terrorists’ plots and selling. There’s clearly an audience for it. The audience just is an aging one.

And as someone who does remember the period, some of his work is extremely ‘oh god I remember’ and some of it is genuinely well thought through analogies interrogating the topic. Media and storytelling are frequently in conversation with the world and with themes the writer cares about. And I think we can all tell how large some of this loomed in Tom King’s life.

[cassylost-inspace]

The object show community has honestly become so unsafe and toxic. I’ve only been in the community for a year and a half ,but the difference between now and then is honestly drastic. People don’t even enjoy the media anymore, all everyone does is criticise. While criticizing is fine, I don't think a community should be based on that. I have barely seen ANY positive posts about the ii movie, everyone treats it like it's meant to be God tier and I get that everyone thinks they should get what they deserve, but holy shit you guys have nothing good to say. Shipping has also become such a difficult point of discussion in the community, considering that everyone believes that their ship and their ship ONLY is good. Most of the shipping stuff wasn't relevant to me, because I'm a multi-shipper but the fandom takes ship wars to an extreme,honesty speaking. Another point is the fact that people are mad at ii for making canon ships,, again this doesn't bother me,because I have always liked all of the popular ships but it's honestly not that deep. I think I've seen like a million posts about the payjay scene from ii 18,, and people got SO mad over fan service despite the fact that it was like 3 minutes long 😭 Another thing is, I haven't talked about c2bc on here b4, but Cole getting cancelled proved how fast the fandom is willing to act immediately on a show's downfall. "I never really liked the show" that's really not the point here. I feel like people should take the situation of cole being racist more seriously instead of just taking this as a chance to bash the show. Moving on,, I remember seeing a post of someone saying "how could you even cry to object shows,, they're so unserious" why do you care? Genuinely WHO is it hurting.Moreover people saying stuff like only "12 year olds watch object shows" is dumb; because have you ever been in a fandom before??Teenagers literally keep fandoms alive, also who DO you want to be in this community. My last point is how almost everyone acts like object shows are meant to be "amazing works of art",, like they literally started off as terrible. These shows are indie and run by an even amount of people, stop treating the shows like Hollywood. Reminder that these people can do WHATEVER they want with their characters. Animationepic is one of the most listening teams out there, they sacrifice a lot for their fans and I personally think that they're allowed to do anything they want with their characters especially since they put so much effort into what the fans want. As someone who uses object shows and animation in general as a way to escape reality,, it is evident that most of you do the same. So I don't understand why there is just SO MUCH negativity coming from the community,, when os fans are so clearly talented and instead of putting effort into being hateful they can use this energy to make art, amvs, maps and animation memes and help uplift the community and it's overall impact on others.

Ik I normally don't post stuff like this, but the osc is REALLY important to me and I feel like this should be brought to more people's attention.

-Cassy

[kaybug88]

ʚ♡ɞ・"WHAT'S UP DANGER?" T. T.・ʚ♡ɞ

TEASER TRAILER -

“Hey Eijiro, do you ever feel like it isn’t enough?”

“Hmm? What doesn’t feel like enough?”

“Adrenaline, sometimes you just don’t feel enough adrenaline.”

“Your love for adrenaline scares me sometimes, you’re kinda crazy, (Y/N).”

“I can guarantee you that you’re not the first person to tell me that.”

The red head laughs at your comment before focusing back on the math assignment in front of him. Maybe you are crazy for loving adrenaline, but who do those people think they are to judge you?

“Ha! Oh my lord, that was amazing!”

“Amazing? You could’ve died out there! Are you insane?!”

“Isn’t that the point? You’re telling me that you don’t love danger?”

“No! Danger is dangerous, believe it or not!”

“No shit, Sherlock Holmes, that’s the point.”

“What- Why?!”

Izuku asks with wide eyes and a worried face as you slip off your mask. You can only laugh at his expression as you swipe away sweat on your forehead. Maybe you are insane, but if so, it’s pretty enjoyable.

-

“I want to be like you one day, living life to the fullest, ya’ know?”

“Think you can handle the adrenaline you’ll feel?”

“Do you know me? Of course I can, that’s why I chose your agency.”

“Heh, you’re one wild kid, but you’re one hell of a fighter.”

“Coming from you? Well that’s quite the compliment.”

“We’re a lot more alike than I think we realize. You push things to the edge too, right?”

“Of course I do, It’s the only way to properly live.

Mirko nods at your comment while giving you a proud smile and fist bump, her eyes shine with that fearless look you’ve grown to admire. Living life to the proper edge is the only way you can really live life at this point. However, sometimes the edge isn’t enough.

-

“I came here because I was promised that I’d feel adrenaline.”

“Slow your roll, kid, aren’t you supposed to be a hero-in-training?”

“So what? UA isn’t fulfilling what I need anymore.”

“And you’re not mad about the camp?”

“Of course I am, but this… I need adrenaline more than I care about that.”

“Just remember if being a hero gets boring, we could use you.”

“Yeah yeah, now what’re you gonna assign to me?”

You ask the villain in front of you. UA hasn’t been giving you the rush you need, and you’ve gotten desperate for a rush. Hell, even Adrenaline Rush hasn’t been hitting like it used to; even training with Mirko isn’t the same. 

-

So now, you’ve gotta’ ask a question; what’s a girl to do when she needs adrenaline?

.

.

.

She takes a leap of faith.

[k9divine]

fem reader x sub ada wong

cw ; oral & fingering (ada receiving), cum eating, mention of toy usage. kind of short.

“hush, baby… gonna make someone come in here.”

makeup smudges on her cheek, trembling hand clasped over her mouth to conceal the wanton noises that claw at her throat, desperate to come out. her thighs clench around your neck, black-painted nails clawing at the back of your neck in hopes of keeping her balance against the cold wall.

the strong muscle mass in your mouth swirls around her engorged clit, slick pooling in your palm and sliding down to your elbow as two of your fingers ram into her relentlessly. forcing the sound she’s definitely not supposed to be making out of her mouth.

“s’ .. oh, it’s too much. i can’t— hmn.”

coaxing a leg over your shoulder, soft lips close around the swollen bud. fingertips curling into spot that always makes her see stars.

it has her hips shuddering, tears of absolute bliss burning the corners of her eyes. glittery mascara and eyeliner all over the place. it only makes her more alluring. a moaning, writhing, mess.

“too much? honey, you’ve taken way more than this.” you laugh, the sound vibrating all her nerves in the right way. the way your tone is just a slight bit mocking makes her heart throb, fingers dragging up to curl in your hair. her nails take down your scalp, palm flattening against the crown of your skull to draw you in closer.

“or maybe it’s because i’ve been teasing you all night, hm? your fault, hon. you asked for it.”

oh, that’s right.

the panties hanging around her ankles have a butterfly vibrator resting atop the sodden fabric, still buzzing from not having been taken out too long ago. the part that was once inside of her was white and sticky, thick globs of creamy arousal settling on the silicone surface.

she’d been needy all day. hanging around you more than often, even inviting you to sit on her lap while she worked. hands running all over your body, lips kissing your skin every other second. it’s safe to say she put herself in this position.

but, here? at a formal event? this is not where she expected you to do it.

“i know i did, but it’s— fuucckk. i’m, i think i’m gonna..” her voice is wobbling, weak. her hand falling from her mouth because goddamnit—she just doesn’t care anymore. if somebody sees you two oh fucking well.

her words dissolve into unintelligible babbles, saliva spilling over her lower lip as she lets out a rather obnoxious mewl. face hot with embarrassment as she finally hears how she sounds herself. a little pathetic, but hey, you think it’s cute.

“coming for me, babe?” you moan, lashes fluttering as your turn your gaze up to hers. upping your effort times ten. you’ve got to make this one of the best she’s ever had, who knows when you’ll have sex (or just be intimate in general), again.

not so subtly adding a third finger, you push them in to the second knuckle. and it has her squirting. your mouth slow its attack on her clit to a stop to lap up her juices, drinking the fluid down like a woman starved.

your face is soaked with her essence, eyes squeezed shut as your slurp her up; cold hand sliding up her hip to press down on her stomach, feeling the taut muscles twitch and shiver beneath your fingertips.

once you’re sure her body’s calmed down, you carefully withdraw your efforts. pulling your digits from her gaping hole, kissing her pussy farewell before sliding her panties back over it. pocketing the toy in your purse to clean later when you arrive back home.

“was that good?” comes a snarky question, tearing a strip of paper towels off the roll to dry your face and her inner thighs. cleaning up as much as you can without the proper tools to do so.

“of course it was good. don’t flatter yourself with my inevitable compliments.” ada hisses, silently thankful you had the courtesy to wipe her down. she’ll have to thank you for taking care of her, later. “thank you, though.”

taking your hand in hers, she drags you out of the bathroom. delving back into the bustling crowd of business people, all standing and listening to some redhead’s speech. nobody has noticed your absences thankfully.

ada had always been easy when it came to you, so that was a plus, as well.

“i’ll have to return the favor.”