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withlovemark · 2 days ago

Text

“how to ask your girlfriend if you’re bad at sex?”

warnings: smut! vibrator, protected sex, overstimulation, squirting

jisung! rummages through your drawers looking for your phone charger, his phone a little under 20%, when he stumbled upon a pink device, half the size of his hand, with a hello kitty top, confusion etched onto his face.

bringing it closer, he examines his new discovery. clicking on the one button he could find, the device comes to life, vibration coursing through his fingers.

he drops it in shock, finally realizing what it was before furiously shutting it off as fast as he could, every click just switching to a new beat before finally powering off and throwing it back where he found it, slamming! your drawer shut.

why the hell did you have a vibrator?

“sungie, you okay in there?,” you yell from your living room.

“y-yeah baby! just dropped my phone,” he replies quickly pulling his phone out of his pocket and doing the only thing he could think of.

—

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hypothetically…

haechan: i’m sleeping.

jisung: if u find a hypothetical hello kitty vibrator in ur girl’s hypothetical drawer, does that mean ur bad at sex…hypothetically?

haechan: im up

chenle: yes

mark: no

jisung: mark pls elaborate

chenle: fuck u how about me?

jisung: idgaf about ur opinion!

haechan: yeah! wdgaf!

chenle: k. all im saying is my girl doesn’t need a vibrator with how good my dick is

mark: don’t listen to him, think of the vibrator as your friend 🙂‍↕️

jisung: this isn’t about me! it’s hypothetical!

haechan: yeah, i agree with mark … my girl and i tried it last month and 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

mark: too much unwanted information about ur sex life but yeah same here, felt like i died and went to heaven for a split second too

haechan: omg what type of vibrator ur girl got? 😛

mark: not telling you

haechan: ☹️

chenle: real men used to go to war for pussy now they let a battery operated device beat them at sex

haechan: stfu chenle u know nothing!

mark: real men used to go to war for pussy now they’re scared once their girl touches a vibrator she’ll never need his dick again

haechan: ooooohhhh get him!

*chenle has left the gc*

haechan: dramatic ass bitch, no one add him back!

jeno: what’s happening here?

*renjun has added chenle to the gc*

mark: couldn’t even last a second 😂

haechan: renjun you traitor!

renjun: i actually don’t give a fuck!, jisung just go talk to your girlfriend about it for the love of god! and chenle stop messaging me!

chenle: just ordered a vibrator, gonna prove to yall that my girl don’t need that shit

haechan: which one did u get? u want recs? 🤓

jaemin: jisung can you ask y/n where she got her hello kitty vibrator so i can get one for my girl? 🥺

jisung: this is not about y/n!

—

he sighs in frustration, his friends were absolutely no help but he was more at ease knowing that their girlfriends had one too. taking renjun’s advice, he decides to just talk to you about it but he couldn’t find a way to do so.

he stays there on your bed googling how to ask your gf if you're bad at sex?, until his phone died, leaving him staring at the wall.

you entered the room, eyeing him suspiciously, he was supposed to be back in the living room 30 minutes ago, it doesn’t take that long to grab your charger, “you okay?” you ask.

“amibadatsex?,” he quickly blurts out, brain completely shutting down.

“what?,”

“am i bad at sex?,”

“what?! no!,”

“oh…”

“is there a reason why you’re asking this?,”

“i uhm…found your vibrator”

your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, “oh my god jisung, why were you snooping through my stuff!?”

“i wasn’t! i was just looking for your charger, i swear!,” he nervously explains, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

“i-i got one when you were on tour,” you confessed, cheeks still pink from this conversation.

“oh…,”

”yeah…” you look down at your feet, just wanting the ground to open up, swallow you whole and take you away from this conversation.

jisung walks over to where you were standing, gently turning your face towards him, “you don’t have to be embarrassed baby but can you please tell me why?, i don’t feel too good about it,” he reveals his insecurity and you knew you had to clear things up.

“i just- i couldn’t cum with my fingers alone anymore…i needed yours but of course that wasn’t possible so i decided to try it out”

he feels his pants tighten at your confession. the image of you getting frustrated at not being able to cum without him going straight to his cock.

“did it work?,”

“uhm yeah, it actually did….but it can never make me feel the way you do,” you admit, easing his worries.

he thinks back to what mark and haechan said. “can i try it?,”

“huh? i mean sure, i don’t know what it would feel like for you though,”

“oh my god no….can i try it on you?,”

“oh…like you’re gonna use it on me?,”

“yeah, can i play with you?,”

“oh o-okay,”

slowly you walk over, grabbing the vibrator out of your drawer and handing it to him, nerves of excitement bubbling through you.

“how does it work?,” he asks, inspecting the pink device again.

“well, it has 8 different vibrations, i usually just use the first 3, they feel the best for me and well you just place it where you would usually touch me,” you explain and he nods attentively.

“sit down,” he backs you into your bed, voice going an octave deeper and all you can do is follow his order.

sitting on the edge of your bed, jisung kneels down right in front of your core, you watch him, feeling yourself getting more turned on with every second that passes.

he pulls your shorts down, hips automatically raising up, before diving back into your clothed core, breathing in your scent and pulling your panties to the side, “you’re already so wet baby,” he praises licking a strip down your folds. there’s no way your vibrator is going to taste you before he does.

“does it turn you on knowing what i'm about to do?,”

you moan in response pussy clenching at nothing, “stop teasing sung please,”

jisung clicks the device once, the vibration hitting your ears in the quiet room, quickly pushing it on your cunt. you hiss at the first contact and he pulls it away, afraid he had hurt you, “what? what happened? are you okay?,”

“im okay sungie it was just too much too quick,” you smile, “here,” you guide him back to your pussy, “just push it lightly first, let me get used to it,” he does so, moving your vibrator in slow circles until it finally hit you at the righ spot, “ohhh, f-fuck,” you moan. jisung takes note of it, placing it there again earning another whine from you, “r-right there, baby, turn it up”

he clicks it again, the device gaining more speed before placing it back on your wet pussy, “oh my god!,” you moan, hand clutching his t-shirt, pussy clenching around air, “f-feel what im feeling baby,” you say, grabbing his other hand and leading it right to your hole. his fingers disappearing in you, “you’re so fucking tight,” he compliments in awe.

with the way he has curled his finger repetitively hitting that spot you can never seem to reach, the vibrator humming against your clit, your body gives in quicker than usual, “i-im cumming, baby i-dont stop, keep it right there,” you moan, pushing his hand harder, the added pressure finally sending you to release, back hitting your bedsheets, eyes rolling back. jisung watches in amazement, collecting the juices with his tongue making you whine.

all he could think about is if you were that tight around his finger, how would you feel around his throbbing cock.

“i need to feel you,” he makes his way over to you, soft lips landing on yours as you taste yourself in his tongue. he pushes his body on top of yours, making you feel his hard member, “you feel that baby? that’s how much i need you”

you swiftly discard his tight jeans, freeing him from his boxers, large cock springing up to his stomach. reaching for the condom in your nightstand, you place it on him, he moans at the squeeze of your hand, his rock hard boner somehow getting harder and you start getting worried. his cock was always enough to make you see stars but with the added vibrations you’re not too sure if you could take it.

you didn’t have much time to dwell on it as he lined up against your core, slowly entering you, moans mixing in the air.

“fuck jisung, y-you’re so big,”

“baby,” he grunts, rocking into you, your wet pussy making it easy for him to slide in and out.

he grabs your vibrator again, clicking it on and placing it back on your clit, pussy immediately tightening around him. he groans as you pull him closer and closer towards you, the vibration going straight to his cock, “holy fuck,” he gasps at the new sensation.

“f-feels so good sungie,” you whine against his ear, hips meeting his every thrust, getting quicker and quicker. the rest of your clothes being thrown across the room. you grab onto his back for support.

with his body against you and yours still being sensitive from your previous orgasm, jisung feels you cum hard. you were so fucking tight around his dick, it all feels too good. his lips swallow your moans as he continues his actions, desperately chasing his release.

“j-jisung” you gasp in pain, vibrator still placed firmly on your clit, but your boyfriend’s thrusts were getting messier and messier, signaling his nearing orgasm, and you wanted him to cum just as hard.

soon enough the pain turned into pleasure, a new commotion stirring up in your stomach, down to your toes. you no longer understand the feeling that’s taking over.

your vibrator has made you cum so many times before but you never felt it work with your boyfriend’s dick — this was entirely new territory.

“f-fuck, j-jisung, i’m gonna-,” you scream at the overstimulation, legs shaking, toes curling and before you knew it your pussy pushed him away, juices squirting onto his belly.

“holy shit babe,” he groans, the action sends jisung into overdrive, watching it all unfold as his release quickly fills up the condom, “aghhh,” he grunts in pleasure, body going slack on yours as you tried to calm your racing hearts.

“what just happened?,” he asks in amazement.

“i-i think i just squirted,”

“you think?”

“i think so, i-i don't know, it's never happened before,” you confess, getting embarrassed. he can’t help but smirk proudly, knowing that he was the first and only person to get you to do that.

jisung kisses you before you have the chance to hide behind your embarrassment.

“that was so. fucking. hot,” he compliments in between kisses” let’s do it again”

—

he finally finds your charger on top of your desk, his phone coming alive. in just a span of 2 hours he and his new friend have made you cum a total of 6 times, him 4, the room smelling of sex. and honestly he could go again but you have made him stop for now, body exhausted.

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hi chat

haechan: he’s alive! so how was it? tell us everything! 😏

chenle: no one cares

haechan: i care!

mark: yo dude u good? you just stopped responding

jisung: sorry, phone died

jisung: can confirm

jisung: 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

*haechan reacted 🤩 to your message*

*mark reacted 😂 to your message*

renjun: you’re welcome

chenle: just paid for expedited shipping yall better not be lying to me rn

jaemin: jisung did you ever ask y/n where she got it?

jisung: oh it’s at www.NowCummingToday.com/sanriocollab-hellokitty-vibrator

jaemin: thank you!! 😚

renjun: that can’t be a real site

jeno: holy shit they have so many options

chenle: robots are gonna take over my girls pussy and it’s your faults

haechan: ooh! try the rose toy! that one’s crazy ahaha 🤓

jisung: 🫡

mark: 🫡

jaemin: 🫡

an: happy bday to my baby jisung <3 (p.s. i tried to do the little smau text thing bcs those are my favorites to read but i honestly couldn’t find an app that was free plus too lazy to figure it out so sorry!…if anyone has tips pls let me know >.< )

#i just know he’s big #he’s an innocent freak #everyone greet my baby a happy birthday!#nct jisung #jisung x reader #jisung smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct x reader #nct smut #love.c.

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pencil-n-pen · 15 hours ago

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I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

₊ ⊹

summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the teeth, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the T.V.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

taglist: @topsecret101 @slowdownpal @leeknowpegger @sunbl3achedfly @hiireadstuff @paige0103 @private190104 @beautyb1ade @coraline-jones353 @pleasenter-sandman @sttvrdustt @gluchie @thomasintheshadows @dessamira1001 @bbleeeeh @hufflely-puffly @bippityboppityboob1tch @buggys-space @redxfangirl @liauchiha147 @dreaming-potato @meandyoulollz @jobrosimp

#girlblogging #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #dr spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #ao3 #bau team #criminal minds fanfiction #x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #soft spencer reid #almost forgot that one teehee #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader

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bugisastranger · 2 days ago

Note

hey babe 🩷 if you have the time or inspiration to write please consider fake dating to lovers with Clark Kent, like a to all the boys I’ve loved before typa situation

a/n: thank u for the request anon!!! sorry it took me a bit to get around to it - i can be a busy busy gal.

"you want me to what?"

clark's voice is unlike anything you'd ever heard from him, his shock nothing less than apparent. you shush him, looking around the hallway to see if anyone's noticed. it's lucky for you that nobody did.

"come on, clark. it's one night! not even! it's like, a few hours at most."

"can't you ask someone else? pete?"

"i don't want to ask pete. he won't be able to sell it."

"and you think i can?" he's exasperated, leaning closer to you as if he's suddenly aware how many people could overhear this conversation. "i'm a horrible liar."

"please? you know how my family can be," you whisper, looking up at clark. he sighs, hanging his head. he does know how your family can be—overbearing—which is exactly why he's hesitant. but you're you, so how can he actually say no?

"okay. okay, fine."

"really?" you ask, nearly jumping out of your skin. your arms slide around clark's neck as you excitedly let out a few small 'thank you's. clark's still frozen in place from his decision, but forces one of his arms to slide awkwardly around your hip. he's in for it, isn't he?

the ringing of the school bell pulls the two of you apart, and you quickly shut your locker, making your way towards your first class. clark keeps his place beside you. "so, what does this mean, exactly? what do you want from me?"

"jeez, clark, that sounds like i'm holding you hostage. it's just a favor."

"yeah, yeah. whatever. what do you need me to do?" he asks, taking his seat next to you at the lab table.

"i don't know. whatever feels natural," you say, bending to the side to pull your textbook out of your bag, a gesture which clark never would've took a second glance at. but today, with your hair falling in front of your face (and then you pushing it away), something's different. he doesn't even notice he forgot to say something in response to you until you glance back at him, confused at his silence.

"uh—" he clears his throat. "how am i supposed to know what's natural? we've never dated before." oops. overly sarcastic.

"have you never even considered it?"

"what?" clark's baffled by your question, but you ask it so casually, like it's not taking the ground out from beneath his feet. it's not that he hasn't considered it. it's that he has. he knows all too well how he wants to walk with his arm around your shoulders, how he wants to have you cuddle into his side as you watch a movie, how he wants to absolutely spoil you—as if he has the money for that anyway. "i—"

"you know what? forget i said that. i don't wanna know," you mutter. "just, like, pretend like you're obsessed with me, i don't know."

"hey, lovebirds! you done?" the teacher calls from the front of the classroom.

as clark starts, "oh, we're n—"

you say, "sorry! we're sorry." and then the both of you, red in your faces, stay silent. you barely even move, feeling reprimanded, even though your teacher was barely offended.

when the teacher lets the class work in pairs, clark decides to use the time to talk to you instead. he could do the work later. "can you just give me an idea of what the night's going to look like, at least?"

you take a quick glance at the teacher, making sure her eyes aren't on you and clark. "you'll come over and i'll introduce you as my boyfriend. my parents won't be suspicious, because i'll start bringing it up today. and they won't be too intimidating. my uncle might, but they'll love you. there's something about you that screams 'good guy' and they'll pick up on it." you twirl the pen in your hands. "it'll be fine. you have nothing to worry about, really." clark feels his heart skip a beat when you place your hand on his bicep—which is supposed to be a comforting gesture. what's happening to him? you've touched him before. plenty of times, actually. this shouldn't mean a thing.

a few days later, and clark is taking deep breaths as he walks down the path to your front door. before he can even meet the porch, you're outside, greeting him. he nearly stops in his tracks when he sees you, your hair half up, half down. the dress you're wearing is baby pink, and something about this sight—seeing you so... girly does something to him, even if he won't admit it.

"hi," you say, breaking the awkward silence. "ignore the dress, i'm trying something a little different."

"no, it's good. you look great," he forces. and then, he remembers he's supposed to be your boyfriend, he's allowed to flirt with you. "you look really pretty." he swears he sees your expression change, like you're nervous. it makes his hand tense, and he nearly crushes the stems of the flowers he forgot he's holding. "oh, these are for you."

"thank you. this is..."

"good enough, i hope?"

"better. i knew you wouldn't let me down."

"can't leave my girlfriend hanging, can i?" oh. oh. that gets you. and clark knows it, too.

"uh—" you start, looking at him with what can only be described as a mix of shock and infatuation. "we should go inside."

and as you're walking towards your front door—"i should call you something, shouldn't i?"

"what?" you turn back around, facing him.

"honey," he tries. "no, too mature. babe?" clark watches your reactions carefully, and even though you seem affected, 'babe' doesn't have the punch he was hoping for. "sweetheart?" bingo.

"sweetheart is fine," you mutter, trying to ignore the way your face heats up.

"okay, sweetheart. you ready for this?" you nod, walking towards the door with clark at your side. "what about princess?"

"too much. you can't call me that in front of my family."

"but i can call you that when we're alone?"

"clark!"

"it's just a question, sweetheart," clark teases, fighting back a chuckle. he could do this the rest of his life.

part two coming soon?!

#clark kent smallville #clark kent x reader #smallville x reader #pete mention #clark kent #need him to call me sweetheart rn

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oscinhaslandito · 12 hours ago

Text

Bloody Chaos

Warning: ik some of the parts are a little out of touch and unrealistic but it's all in good fun for chaos please don't send hate

Y/N wakes up feeling a little off, but she assumes it's just morning hunger. She slowly pulls the covers off, trying not to wake Oscar, when she sees it— a huge bloodstain pooling underneath her on his crisp white sheets.

Panic sets in. Her eyes widen in horror, her breath catches in her throat, and before she can think, a small, accidental shriek escapes her lips.

Oscar, still half-asleep, grumbles and shifts next to her. "What? Who died?"

"ME. I JUST DIED. LOOK AT THE SHEETS."

Oscar cracks one eye open, blinking in the dim morning light. His gaze drops to the stain, then drifts lazily back to Y/N. "Oh. Okay. No big deal."

"NO BIG DEAL??" Y/N screeches, face heating up in mortification. "I JUST BLED ALL OVER YOUR BED, OSCAR."

He rubs his face, sitting up, looking frustratingly unbothered. "Babe, it's fine. Happens, right? At least we know we don’t need Plan B pills after last night, now."

Y/N gasps, launching a pillow at his face. "I AM GOING TO END YOU, PIASTRI."

Oscar catches the pillow mid-air, smirking, before suddenly reaching over and scooping Y/N into his arms.

"Oscar! Put me down!"

"Nope. You’re going straight to the shower. I’ll handle the bed."

Y/N kicks and squirms, but he carries her effortlessly, striding into the bathroom. He places her down inside the shower, steps back, and before she can react—he shuts the door and locks it with a chair under the handle.

"Oscar, what the hell?!"

"You’re not escaping until you shower," he calls out. "I got this covered."

Y/N bangs on the door, mortified beyond belief. "OSCAR, WAIT—I DON’T HAVE ANY HYGIENE PRODUCTS."

Silence.

Then, the distant sound of music turning on from the speakers outside the bathroom.

Y/N groans. "You have got to be kidding me."

Thirty minutes later…

Oscar finally realizes his mistake, sheepishly jogging up the stairs.

"Oh shit, you're right, you need hygiene products."

Y/N, still trapped in the bathroom, is one second away from combusting. "YA THINK?!"

He sprints out of the house, drives thirty minutes to the store, and returns looking way too pleased with himself as he holds up a pack of… cotton balls.

Y/N blinks at him. "Oscar. What is that?"

"Tampons," he declares proudly.

She stares at him, then at the literal pack of cotton balls in his hands. "Oscar, those are cotton balls."

"Yeah! That’s what tampons are, right? Like, little cotton things? You just… y'know… use them?" He gestures vaguely.

Y/N buries her face in her hands. "Oh my god."

Oscar tilts his head. "What? My mum told me once they’re just cotton you put in there when you’re bleeding."

Y/N groans. "Oscar. No. No, no, no. That is not how it works."

A pause.

"Oh."

Another pause.

"In my defense," Oscar adds, scratching the back of his head, "I moved to a different country super early, and I went to an all-boys boarding school. How was I supposed to know? No one ever taught me tampon science."

Y/N gapes at him. "Tampon science?"

Oscar nods solemnly. "I feel like this should’ve been in the curriculum."

Y/N sighs. "Just… go back and get the right thing. And for the love of god, get pads."

Another trip to the store later…

The moment he returns with actual pads—albeit the smallest size possible—Y/N finally emerges from the bathroom, exhausted and grumpy. She snatches the bag from his hands and rifles through it, her irritation bubbling over when she sees the tiny pads.

"Oscar, why are these so small?"

He shrugs. "I thought it was like clothes sizing."

Y/N exhales sharply, staring at him in sheer disbelief. "Oscar. That is not how this works."

Oscar scratches the back of his head. "Should I go back again?"

Y/N crosses her arms. "What do you think?"

Cue another thirty-minute round trip, and this time, Oscar returns with an assortment of pads in every possible size. The cashier had apparently given him a knowing look, and he'd fled the store in mild humiliation.

The rest of the day…

Oscar spends every second trying to make Y/N laugh, but she’s not having it.

Determined to make her feel better, he insists on making her tea, only to immediately burn himself on the kettle. Y/N watches, unimpressed, as he yelps and shakes his hand dramatically.

"Are you okay?" she deadpans.

"I need a hospital," he groans, clutching his wrist like he’s just lost a battle.

"You need common sense."

Later, as a final attempt at redemption, he announces that he’s going to bake her a cake.

"Do you even know how to bake?" she asks, still skeptical.

"No," he says with a confident grin, "but how hard can it be?"

Famous last words.

By the time he’s done, the kitchen looks like a war zone, flour is in his hair, and the cake is…questionable. The batter somehow ended up on the ceiling, and the frosting is a runny mess, but Oscar beams at his masterpiece like he’s just won a Michelin star.

"Tada!" he says proudly, presenting the lopsided cake to Y/N.

She raises an eyebrow. "Oscar… is it supposed to look like that?"

"Absolutely," he lies.

Y/N sighs, gives in, and takes a bite. It's terrible. But when she looks up at Oscar, who's watching her expectantly, his face full of hope, she swallows it down.

"Good, right?" he grins.

"Mmm," she hums, forcing a smile.

He narrows his eyes. "You hate it."

"I love it," she corrects, even as she struggles to chew. "Best cake ever."

Oscar leans forward, smirking. "You’re lying to spare my feelings."

"Duh."

With a laugh, he pulls her into his arms, ignoring her protests. "Well, too bad, because you’re stuck with me forever. Period stains, terrible cake, and all."

Y/N groans but doesn’t push him away. Because at the end of the day, despite all the chaos, she’s maybe—just maybe—falling in love with this sweet menace of a man.

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fandom #f1 fic #f1 imagine #fluff #formula 1 #humor #osc #oscar x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #chaos #humour #period rp

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 2 days ago

Text

Marriage Problems Chapter 4

Summary: They’ve been married for 19 years, their 20th anniversary coming up soon. Older, busier, and stuck on the repeat of their daily lives, Y/N and Bucky are struggling. Their marriage is good, but feeling rocky the last few years as they’ve settled into this stage of their lives. Can they get their spark back? Or is it better to do the unthinkable, and move on without each other?

Warnings: language, forced kiss, eventual smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

Bucky quietly walked inside the house. What was usually his sanctuary now felt like it held impending doom. He and Y/N were just barely starting to get on a better footing with each other. They were supposed to go on a date tomorrow night. Why did something like this have to happen now? He trudged up the stairs slowly, the fear and trepidation making him feel dizzy. He opened his bedroom door, finding Y/N sitting on their bed reading a book. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Hey Buck. How was the party?” she asked sweetly.

Bucky smiled back at her hesitantly. “It was, um, fun, at first,” he said. “Good to catch up with Steve.”

“What do you mean ‘at first’? What happened?” Y/N asked, setting aside her book on the nightstand.

Bucky closed the door, walked to her side of the bed and sat facing her next to her crossed legs. He reached for her hands, and she met him halfway, letting him hold her hands as he kept his gaze down. “Something…happened,” he whispered.

Y/N’s hands squeezed his. “What happened? You’re scaring me, Bubbas.”

Bucky’s heart felt like it was going to explode. She called him the pet name he hadn’t heard in a long time, but he was also going to possibly hurt her right afterwards. He met her gaze. “A girl from work came on to me tonight,” he said.

Y/N blinked. “Okay,” she said.

“I told her no, but then she…she kissed me,” Bucky’s voice cracked as he stifled a sob.

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she stared at him for a good long while. Bucky felt like he was shrinking under her unyielding stare, but he didn’t dare look or pull away. He felt her try to pull her hands out of his grasp but he tightened his hold. “No, please,” he gasped. “I…I didn’t want it. She just did it, and I froze because I was in shock, but I pushed her away.” Y/N’s eyes started to fill with tears. “Pretty mama, please,” Bucky begged, shifting toward her as his own tears started to fall. “All I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is you. Please, you have to believe me.” She shut her eyes tight and shook her head, fighting back her own cries. Bucky let go of her hands and cupped her face in his hands. “Y/N, please. Please please please, I’m so sorry. I should have walked away sooner, I should have said no louder, I shouldn’t have frozen. My love,” he kissed her cheek and she sniffled sadly. “My pretty mama,” he kissed the tip of her nose. “My everything. Baby, please.”

“I believe you,” Y/N whispered. Bucky pulled away just enough to look at her. “I do,” she reassured him. “I just…I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stop envisioning it and…I’m feeling a lot of very conflicting things right now.”

“I understand,” Bucky nodded. “I am, too. I’m so angry, and I was so scared.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel afraid to tell me,” Y/N said, looking at him sadly. “I know I haven’t…I haven’t been very, good to be with for a while now–”

Bucky huffed a watery laugh. “We’ve been in a weird spot lately,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere.”

Y/N sniffed again and sighed heavily before smiling timidly at him. “Me neither,” she promised.

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Can I ask for something?” he whispered.

“What?” she whispered back.

“I-I need to get it out of my head,” he said. “I need your lips to be the last on mine. It just doesn’t feel right. Please,” he angled his head, his nose nuzzling her nose and his lips hovering over hers.

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered at his closeness, and when he met her gaze he saw the desire there that he hadn’t seen for a while. Her eyes flickered across his face, then she slightly nodded. That was all the permission he needed, and he leaned in and gently kissed her. Y/N slowly kissed him back, her lips featherlight against his. But within a few seconds she suddenly reached out and gripped his shirt in her fingers, pulling him toward her harder, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Bucky whimpered, his hands moving to the back of her neck then down her back. Their combined breathing got heavier, pants and sighs filling the room as he hoisted her up and into his lap, having her straddle him as he licked into her mouth, tasting her tongue with his own.

Y/N’s hips started to grind on top of him, and he shuddered at how good it felt to have her on him like this again. “Can I have you, pretty mama?” Buck whispered, kissing down to her neck and nipping at her ear. “God, please let me have you.”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Please Bubbas.”

He groaned at the pet name then flipped them over so she was on her back. He quickly stripped her of her pajamas and underwear, pulling his own clothes off in record time before hovering over her, his hands exploring her like she was brand new. And in a lot of ways, she was. “I’ve missed you,” he said as he kissed down her chest to her breasts, giving them plenty of attention after not seeing them for so long.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Y/N whispered, her fingers running through his hair and scratching his scalp the way he liked.

It sent shivers down his spine and he smiled against her skin. Bucky and Y/N used to have a good sex life, making time for each other and taking care of each other regularly, so it was strange for them to not indulge in one another for so long. This felt like their first time all over again, getting reacquainted with the way her body had changed after three kids and the beginning stages of aging. Bucky wasn’t as fit as he used to be, either, but Y/N’s hands still felt him all over as if he was the most handsome thing she’d ever seen.

Bucky’s kisses slid down her body until he reached her pussy, and he situated himself on the bed so he could wrap his arms around her thighs and spread her wide open for him. “I haven’t, um, shaved for a while,” Y/N said suddenly, sounding hesitant.

“I don’t care,” Bucky shook his head, smirking at her before he dipped his head down and started eating her out. Y/N gasped, her hips twitching and bucking against his face. His grip on her thighs tightened, not letting her squirm away from him. Y/N’s hands were shaking by her sides, and at a particularly fast flicking of his tongue against her clit she reached down and gripped his hair in her right hand, her left hand resting against the side of his face, randomly scratching at his beard.

Bucky reached one hand back around from her thigh, bringing it up to her pussy. His fingers rubbed at her lower lips as he focused his mouth on her clit. She was already becoming so wet for him that he smiled as he prodded one finger at her entrance, slowly pushing it all the way in until he was second knuckle deep. Y/N whined quietly, and it made him feel proud at getting a noise out of her, something so involuntary and primal. He slowly added a second finger inside her, lapping at her clit and her lips. He was slow and gentle in his movements in and out of her, curling his fingers just lightly inside as his other hand guided her hips gyrating on his face and his hand.

He hummed against her, pulling a shudder through her whole body, her legs shaking over his shoulders. Bucky sucked on her clit harshly, his fingers picking up in pace. Y/N’s hips bucked against his face, and his arm still wrapped around her leg moved up to hold her down over her hips. “Cum for me, Y/N,” he groaned.

Y/N stiffened, her fingers nearly ripping at his hair as she slapped a hand over her mouth and moaned, cumming all over his fingers. Bucky licked up everything he could, prolonging her orgasm for as long as possible as he lazily pumped his fingers in and out of her a while longer. He finally came to a stop and pulled them out, sucking them into his mouth as he sat up and situated himself between her legs.

“Fuck, Bubbas,” Y/N sighed. “Holy shit…”

Bucky leaned down and kissed her, letting her taste the last remnants of herself on his lips. “You did so good, pretty mama. So good for me.” He leaned back up and gripped his cock in his hand, stroking himself and then slapping his cock against her clit, making her jerk and moan. “How do you want me, love?”

“Like this,” Y/N said, looking up at him pleadingly. “Just this, please.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky smirked, running the tip of his cock through her slit. “I’ll do whatever you want. What does this pretty little pussy need?” Y/N’s hips shook as he nudged her clit again. “Does it need to be filled?”

“Yes!” she whimpered.

Bucky couldn’t wait any longer. It had been too long, and after getting to taste her and have her at his mercy now, his cock was throbbing in need. “Alright, pretty mama,” he said lowly. He aimed himself at her entrance, then slowly started pushing in. They both winced at the tightness and the stretch, and Bucky could tell she hadn’t been masturbating or doing anything to take care of herself for a long time. “Fuck, love, so tight,” he hissed. “Jesus, it’s been so long. You haven’t done anything? At all?”

Y/N shook her head, looking embarrassed. “I was just…too tired. Too busy.”

Bucky whimpered. Not only had they taken advantage of Y/N and all she did for them, but she had given up taking care of herself in multiple ways to keep up with the demands of their family life. He leaned down and started kissing and licking at her nipples, helping to stimulate her. “I’m so sorry, pretty mama,” he murmured against her skin. “You deserve the world, and I couldn’t give that to you–”

“No,” Y/N said, pulling his head up as he finally slid all the way in. She kissed him sweetly, running her fingers through his hair. “You’ve worked so hard for me, for all of us. I was trying to help take on the rest. But all I did was end up burning myself out.”

Bucky nuzzled his nose against her cheek, kissing her all over her face. “I’m still sorry,” he murmured. “Can you forgive me?”

Y/N’s chest shook on a sob as he rolled his hips into her. “I forgive you,” she whispered, her lips trembling.

Bucky sighed as he held her close, continuing to kiss her everywhere he could reach. “Thank you. Thank you, Y/N,” he whispered back, not trusting his voice. He licked and sucked at her neck as his hips picked up the pace, but still thrusting into her slowly. He wanted to take his time, to feel her and indulge in her. Y/N’s arms wrapped around his back, her nails scratching down his shoulder blades as he pushed into her as far as he could. Her hot, panting breaths huffed over his neck and shoulder, her sweet little moans and whimpers tickling his ear, and he swore he’d never heard anything more beautiful in his life. After a torturous amount of time for Bucky to hold off on his pleasure, he could feel her pussy flutter around him. “Fuck, you gonna cum, pretty mama? Yeah? Cum all over my cock while I fill you up?”

Y/N shivered, nodding frantically as her hands moved down his back to his ass, her fingers digging into the cheeks of his ass and pulling him into her harder. “Bubbas…Bubbas please. Bucky…”

“You want it harder?” Bucky smirked, pulling away just enough to look at her, staying within inches of her face. “You want me to fuck you hard, love?”

“Yes!” Y/N squeaked. “Fuck me harder. Faster!”

Bucky positioned himself slightly differently and held her tight. “Whatever you want, mama,” he said, then started thrusting fast and hard into her.

Y/N gasped, her mouth falling open wide. She hugged him tight again, trying to hold in any loud moans so they wouldn’t wake up the kids. “Oh my god!” she loudly whispered.

“That’s it, Y/N, take it! Show me you forgive me, love. Show me you forgive me with your cum,” he grunted.

Y/N started shaking uncontrollably, then choked on a sharp gasp and stiffened under him. Her head wrenched back and before she could scream Bucky kissed her hard, swallowing her noises as she came. Her pussy clamped down impossibly hard on his cock, her cum drenching his hips and the sheets below, her nails digging into his back. The mix of pain and pleasure spurred Bucky on as he fucked her through her orgasm then finally came deep inside her, pumping her full like he said he would, his own loud groan being covered by her kiss.

Y/N twitched from the rippling pleasure, and Bucky slowly broke the kiss, his lips grazing across her face and down her neck. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re amazing,” he whispered. “Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you, my pretty mama. My love. Shit…” he shuddered as her pussy fluttered around him with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “You feel so good. God, I love you.”

“I love you,” Y/N murmured, her hands softly rubbing his back, soothing out the scratches she caused. “I love you Bubbas. Love you…I’m so sorry–”

“I’m sorry, too,” Bucky said, kissing her lips. “But we can work through it, right? Together?”

She smiled at him. “Yeah. You and me against the world, right?”

He smiled at their little mantra they used to say to each other all the time. “You and me against the world.”

@cjand10 @sebastians-love @sherwoodforesttales @shanksstrawhat @sagexsenorita @abaker74 @vunblr @doodle-with-rhyrhy

#marvel #bucky barnes #smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #series fanfic #chapter 4 #father!bucky barnes #mother!reader #married couple #bucky x reader

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setmeatopthepyre · 3 hours ago

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thunk it thursday tagged in fuck it friday by @bidisasterevankinard (thank you! I was brainstorming a good excuse to share this) but it's still thursday here so... behold, the new wip that I am calling phosphorescence fic as a working title. shout out to @sugarpenchant & @trombonechurchill for lending their thoughts & letting me yap

The first time Buck runs into Tommy at a call, his heart feels like a bird battering his rib cage from the inside. He'd finally gotten around to not actively searching for Tommy whenever the 118 were called to anything bigger than a two alarm fire, half convinced Tommy must've traded to a different shift despite the fact Buck knew that would've thrown Tommy's carefully planned social life into disarray. Buck never checked with Eddie to confirm or deny his suspicions. He wasn't sure what he'd do with either answer.

Which... leaves him completely unprepared for the sight of Tommy, tall, broad in his turnouts, face soot-streaked like when he showed up like some sort of action hero to Maddie and Chimney's hospital wedding. Buck feels himself stumble, relocates his feet, and finds Tommy staring straight at him with an expression that must mirror his own. Surprise. Heartache. Sadness. Tommy's eyes glimmer in the lights of the vehicles around them, and Buck hopes.

That's when Cap calls for him over the radio and Buck has to turn away and do his job. Still, that flutter of hope remains wedged between his ribs. If Tommy is even half as heartbroken as he looks, then Buck stands a chance and at this point, he'll take any chance he can get.

That night, after returning to the station and before crawling into a bunk for some shut-eye, Buck texts Tommy.

Tommy doesn't text him back.

Buck watches the single checkmark turn to two, but after that... nothing. No texts, no calls, no bubbles. Nothing.

The next day: still nothing.

“I think something's wrong with Tommy,” Buck says as he catches up to Eddie at the firehouse gym. “He hasn't texted me back.”

Eddie takes another step or two, then halts mid-stride and turns. “Hold on, you texted Tommy?”

“Yes, a-and he's read them, but that's it. What if something happened?”

Eddie mulls it over, taking a seat on the weight bench. “Like what?”

“I-I don't know. An-- an accident. What if he never made it home after the call yesterday?”

Eddie sighs, lays back on the bench. Grips the bar. “He made it home, Buck.”

Buck frowns and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Promptly uncrosses them again when Eddie unracks the barbell, ready to spot him. “Y-Yeah? How do you know that?”

Eddie doesn't look at him, keeps his eyes trained on the iron bar above as he moves the weight up and down in slow, precise movements. “Because,” he huffs between reps, “he texted me.”

“He... he texted you?” Buck says slowly.

“Yes, he texted me. He went out to some bar after his shift and then he drunk-texted me when he got home. He's fine. Probably hungover.” Eddie huffs his way through another rep or two, three, four.

“He drunk-texted you? What-- uh, what did-- what did he drunk-text you about?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him and Buck supposes his attempt at casual might have fallen just a little bit short of the mark. “Are you going to just repeat everything I'm saying, but like it's a question?” Eddie asks. He racks the weight again. “What I can tell you is, Tommy's fine. Well, he made it home okay. Okay? If he didn't text you back...” he shrugs. “Maybe he had a different reason. Or he needs more time.”

And Buck, well. Buck can give him time. He can do that. He knows what he saw in Tommy's eyes. He knows Tommy saw it in his, too. If Tommy needs time, that's what he'll get.

But, he decides, the next time he sees Tommy at a call, he's going to talk to him.

The next time Buck sees Tommy at a call, he's ready for it. He's had a few practice runs by now, three and four-alarms with the 217 on scene but no Tommy with the ground crew. Plenty of time to hype himself up, to imagine what might happen, what he could say. How Tommy would look at him.

The thing is. The problem is. Tommy doesn't look at him.

It's-- weird, really. The next time they're both at a scene, Buck spots him only a short distance away. He watches Tommy's gaze track along towards him and then... go right past. Like he doesn't even see him. Doesn't recognize him. Like Buck's just another set of turnouts in the crowd.

But he's made a promise to himself, and he won't back down now, so Buck marches right up to Tommy and says, “H-hey. Tommy. Uh, hi.”

Tommy looks at him then with something like vague curiosity. “Hey,” he says, plainly. Then recognition flashes, but it's still-- mild. Nothing like the heartache from before. “Hey, Evan.”

Buck will take what he can get, and Tommy calling him Evan again is more than he'd expected... even if unease curls in his gut, prickles at the back of his neck.

“So-- So were back to Evan, huh?” he tries for normal, for a grin, tilts his head.

Tommy smiles easily at him, as if they're right back at the start. As if nothing's happened. “Well, that is your name, isn't it?”

“I-- yeah, I-I guess so. I just thought--” Buck huffs. “Never mind. How, uh. How-- how are you, Tommy? I, uh, texted you.”

“You did? Sorry, Evan. I've been busy,” Tommy says, and glances over his shoulder. “Look, I have to run. See you around?”

Tommy's gone before Buck can even begin to think of a response.

“Something's wrong with Tommy.”

“Sure, just let yourself in. No problem at all,” Chimney says blandly from where he's stretched out on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. “Maddie's not here.”

Buck takes a seat on the coffee table, ignoring the way Chim has to lean to see the TV behind him. “I'm not here for Maddie, I'm here for you," he says in a breath. Then adds, "Because you're... you're open-minded.”

Chimney pauses mid-chew. “Open-minded,” he repeats. His eyes narrow. “What kind of weird proposition are you gonna hit me with, Buckley?”

He rolls his eyes. “Nothing-- not, not a-- It's... Tommy.”

“Tommy Kinard, the one and only?” Chim swings his legs over the edge of the couch, leveraging himself into something of a seated position. “What about him?”

Buck fumbles for the words. Decides, finally, to just get straight to the point.

“I-I don't think Tommy... is, well, Tommy.”

tagged a bunch of people yesterday so no tags for now unless you wanna be tagged in which case: tag, you're it.

#dying to hear your thoughts #fuck it friday #writing game #tag game #my fic #phosphorescence fic #<- gonna have soooo much fun spelling that title every time but babey I love a challenge #my writing #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #bucktommy fix-it fic #911 fic #tevan fic #wip #actually started at the beginning of a story? amazing #might fuck around and tell something in a linear fashion #or maybe not!

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royalarchivist · 2 days ago

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Jaiden: My question is– if I have a past with, either the Federation or Cucurucho, that I don't know about– then why am I on the Island? Was it like, "Oh, we need one of our own on the inside, let's put her here because you're a good worker"?

Foolish: Yeah... No, that could maybe make sense, like an experiment, like a controlled variable.

Jaiden: Yeah, but it also could be like, a punishment for like, "Oh, you were doin' some bad stuff, let's banish you to the Island with no memories. See how you like that."

Foolish: Ohhh. No memories makes it a little... yeah. Hmm... 🤔 Is there like a good-case scenario? Where it's like, "You did a great job! Here, let's wipe your memory, go on the Island."

Jaiden: [Laughs] "You earned a free vacation!" 🏝️

—

TRANSCRIPT

Jaiden: My question is like– if I have a past with, either the Federation or Cucurucho, that I don't know about– then why am I on the Island? Like, what happened?

Foolish: Hmmm... So like, why are you on the Island as in the state that you are in right now? Um...

Jaiden: Like, why would they put me here if I had like, a previous job, you know?

Foolish: Ok, previous job...

Jaiden: Either– was it like, they were like, "Oh, we need one of our own on the inside, let's put her here because you're a good worker, and we– [Stammers] You're so good." [Distracted] Oh, the fcking donkey is here–

Foolish: Yeah... No, that could maybe make sense, like an experiment, like a controlled variable.

Jaiden: Yeah, but it also could be like, a punishment for like, "Oh, you were- you were doin' some bad stuff, let's– let's banish you to the Island with- with no memories. See how you like that."

Foolish: Ohhh. No memories makes it a little... yeah. Hmm, I'm trying to think, would there be... Is there any like– is there like a good-case scenario? Where it's like, "You did a great job! Here, let's wipe your memory, go on the Island."

Jaiden: [Laughs] "You- you earned a free vacation!"

Foolish: [Also laughs] I don't know!

Jaiden: I don't' really know, but like... All I know is I've worked with Cucurucho in the past, and they trust me to like, train a new one.

Foolish: Yeah, that's what I find interesting.

Jaiden: –and I'm supposed to like, progress report on how well he's doing. And stuff.

So, is the current Cucurucho that's been out and about with us could be like, the second one? Because that's–

Jaiden: I'll be honest, I don't even know how many there are. I don't even doubt that there's more.

Foolish: Oh. Yeah, I guess if there's two, there certainly could be more.

Jaiden: Mhmm. They are... slightly different in personality, though.

Foolish: Oh, really?

Jaiden: I mean, the normal Cucurucho is just like, super serious–

Foolish: Right.

Jaiden: And then the other one is like... more silly, and goofy. I think that was the one who played like, Hide-and-Seek with us, and they did more fun games, and that's the other one.

Foolish: Oh, yeah!

Jaiden: And I– they said that he's not perfect, and I need to train him to be perfect.

Foolish: So you need to– wipe him of personality? [He speaks with a laugh]

Jaiden: Yeah. I– though– I mean, the thing I told him is just to hide it, you know? That's... the best way to do it.

Foolish: Conceal don't feel, don't let them know?

Jaiden: Yeah, exactly. Exactly, exactly. You know how it is.

—

Stream date: September 7, 2023

Timestamp: ~43m 30s

#Jaiden Animations #Jaiden #Foolish #Foolish Gamers #QSMP #September 7 2023 #Takes a break from work to rest my wrist and then winds up writing a long clip transcript #o(-(#I think about q!Jaiden a lot and her relationship with the Cucuruchos a lot #I want to know what their history was... I wanted to learn more about her lore

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mango-dot-yum · 1 day ago

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There’s been a lot of hate for more recent costumes in Starlight Express, and I think we all just need to appreciate that we no longer have these:

(This is hate, so if you like these costumes good for you but you probably won’t want to read the rest of this)

Duvay is the… least bad, but they may be because I have nothing else to compare her too. I don’t like the gray shoulder things because they just look off, but it could be worse.

And now, Dinah. Honestly, if I were Greaseball I’d leave her too, because what is that outfit?? The front panel of the skirt was removed, the doily was removed, and her leggings were removed. It looks wrong. And the skirt looks weird, too. Her having long sleeves and no leggings make her outfit look unbalanced, with way too much happening up top and basically nothing on the bottom half of her.

I don’t think the problem is even her not having leggings, Expresso Astral didn’t have leggings for her, and it looked fine. I think the problem is the combination of missing leggings and missing skirt parts.

Next up on my complaint list is Pearl. She looks like if a bootleg company made a doll of Pearl. It looks like comparing MLP toys to the show. What I mean to say is, you can tell it’s Pearl, but it doesn’t look like her. They remove the part over her bust that said “OBSERVATION” which, like, okay I guess? But that makes the thing around her neck look strange and like it wasn’t supposed to be there. It looks like they meant to remove that as well, but they forgot. The front panel of her skirt with the “PM” was removed, and the other panels became less pink. My biggest issue with this costume isn’t the costume itself, though, it’s something inconsequential: the wig.

In my opinion, Pearl’s wig is one of the most memorable parts of her costume- it’s why a lot of people don’t like 2018 revision Pearl. And this wig is just so… boring. It’s underwhelming and looks weird with the rest of the costume. I would say it’s because it’s blonde, but my favorite Pearl wig isn’t the typical pink/pink-white-

-so I can’t even say that. The it just doesn’t look like Pearl. The best part of Starlight Express costumes is that they’re flashy and pretty. If I saw someone wearing this wig in public I wouldn’t look twice.

And last(and most definitely least) ,Buffy. Poor, poor, Buffy. I love Buffy, she’s my second favorite coach. But this costume? It’s just so… I don’t even know what to say. She has a bare midriff, the chest box being reduced in size(probably to show more cleavage), but she does have the “napkins” tucked into her belt, which I do like. My main issue is the chest box. That has always been my favorite part of Buffy’s design, the details on it being fun to look at.

But this(as in the Las Vegas and tour costumes, not Bochum 1989 Buffy which was used as an example for the chest box) just looks tacky. Without prior knowledge, I wouldn’t be able to tell what it’s supposed to be, which I think is pretty bad because it’s the main part of her costume. It’s the part that makes it clear she’s a buffet car, without being able to tell what it is, she doesn’t look like Buffy.

I am not a puritan(or at least I hope I’m not), I don’t care about sexual costumes in musical theatre, I’m not trying to say the costumes are bad because they’re not covered head to toe. What I do have an issue with, though, is when sexuality becomes misogyny. Look at the other costumes for these tours/Las Vegas and you’ll see what I mean.

I think it was in bad taste how only the coaches lost significant portions of their costumes. If you’re going to make slutty costumes, make ALL the costumes slutty. Have Greaseball wear little shorts and a crop top or something, I don’t know. But I think it’s weird how only the coaches became more sexual. It’s not “empowering” it’s misogyny(in my opinion)

Anyways, sorry for my rant! I try and stay positive for the most part on here but ARGGH I HATE THESE COSTUMES😭😭

I genuinely did enjoy writing this because I love yapping about Starlight Express(even if it’s negative), so if anyone wants my opinions on specific things please ask me in my replies or my asks :D

#stex #starlight express #dinah the dining car #buffy the buffet car #pearl the observation car #pearl the first class car #duvay the sleeping car #I promise I don’t hate peoples who like these costumes #if these are your favorite coach costumes good for you #everyone is entitled to their own opinions #even if they’re wrong #JOKING #i swear

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lesbianherald · 23 hours ago

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if you are comfortable with sharing that first draft, please do! I would absolutely love to see it, very curious to know how it all started!!

So - this is re: the first kiss in coming home, which is the first scene I wrote/inspired the whole fic! I offered to share the first draft of it this morning under an ask about writing and process.

Sometimes I have to jump ahead and write scenes I'm really excited about, because often they will jump into my brain and just circle and circle like food in a microwave. Then I use those scenes to prompt some of the rest of the story

For instance - I knew they needed to reconcile over something big - but the actual details of what happened between them and why I was completely unclear of.

things like "i should have kissed you that night in the snow" just sounded cool to me. so I got ideas for flashbacks in this too.

disclaimers - this is bad. i am not sharing this because I think its good but because I think its interesting, especially in terms of what I kept...

and there's a ton of notes to myself. little question marks. and this (//) which usually is just shorthand for I hate what i just wrote but I'm plowing forward anyways.

I redacted a few sentences that were just... too excruciating to publish, but I'll keep everything else the same.

Start

Jayce’s heart is thundering in his ears. Viktor’s expression isn’t one he’s seen before. Never.

“But you - I can’t - and - eh (??),” Viktor tries. Jayce decides to take a step forward. Viktor stays where he is. He’s so close to Viktor. He can see he has a little freckle in his eye.

And oh, no. It’s all flooding out of him. “I was so stupid,” Jayce says. “So, so stupid. I should have just talked to you. I shouldn’t have trusted Noxus(??). I should have listened more and I should have acted less and-“ I should have kissed you, that night in the snow. “I should have done so much that I just - didn’t. I took your work. Our work. Something that was supposed to be helpful, and I almost - I almost hurt people. And I was so Naive and you were everything to me and -”

He’s never wanted to admit that. Ever. Ever. Viktor’s eyes are wide. Full of emotion. And Jayce feels a glimmer of something like hope //. And he’s babbling like a baby. He can’t stop himself. He’s always been bad. At reigning himself in. And he’s done it so much with Viktor it aches and he can’t take it anymore (////////ugh girl).

“I don’t need the credit. I already had my day in the sun. And I know it’s too late to ever go back to how it was. But god, I want to make something beautiful with you again. And I’m sorry I was so awful when you first showed up. And I’m sorry I yelled at you in the lab and called you selfish- And I’m sorry I -“

Viktor’s hands are on his face. Wiping at his eyes. He makes small, soothing little shushing noises. And he’s so close Jace can feel them on his cheek. And he’s hoping and hoping and please god please and then Viktor is kissing him. And its everything yet Jayce immediately needs more and more and more of him. Hands clutching him tightly as if he might escape between his fingers. A desperate pressure.

Jayce makes a small, desperate whine that he didn’t even know he could make // and deepens the kiss, pressing Viktor’s body to his. {REDACTED} He feels along the soft hair on the back of Viktor’s neck. {REDACTED} He’s so soft and he smells like laundry detergent and paper.

And Viktors hands start to shake. Jayce pulls apart from him for a second. He kisses the mole on his cheekbone. By his lips. He utters a hushed and desperate “I missed you,” before he knows what he’s saying. “I missed you so much” uttered between kisses. And he hates the sound of his voice right now. High and desperate and on the verge of breaking.

Viktor pulls apart from him. He studies Jayce as if he’s struggling to comprehend him. He gently strokes his thumb along Jayces cheekbone. Jayce pulls Viktor into a hug. His lithe body fitting perfectly in the space between his arms and Jayce is no creationist but it’s like he was made to fit there. Something holy. Jayce kisses where Viktor’s neck meets his shoulders.

Viktor draws in a shuddering breath. Runs a soothing hand through Jayce’s hair. And Jayce needs more of him. He needs to inhale him and fit him back in the spot in his ribcage that’s been vacant and bleeding since he left. He wants to never let this go again. {REDACTED}.

“Hey,” Viktor says, “Hey. Jayce. It’s okay. Look at me.”

Jayce looks at him. Viktor hovers over him. His hands on Jayce’s face. He’s never seen Viktor look like this. Like he’s overcome. And he’s so beautiful.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, Jayce. Look at me. Look at me. I’m here.” Jayce can’t help the agonized, shaky breath he lets in. [REDACTED] Viktor wraps Jayce in his arms. Jayce holds him there. Feeling Viktor’s shoulder blades. His back. He doesn’t know if it's Viktor that’s shaking or if it's him //.

“Breathe,” Viktor says, placing a kiss to Jayce’s temple. Jayce buries his head in Viktor’s shoulder. He lets himself breathe. Lets himself take in the smell of Viktor’s laundry detergent. The sweet salt of his skin. Viktor strokes his fingers through Jayce’s hair. Jayce takes a moment to take it in. “I’m sorry,” Jayce says. “I’m so... stupid emotional. I can’t even -“

“I’ve always liked that about you,” Viktor says. “You have a big heart, metaphorically speaking.” Jayce kisses the mole on Viktor’s neck then finally lets himself look at him. Viktor’s looking at him with an unbearable amount of affection.

Jayce kisses him again. Slowly this time. Letting himself savor every second. Kisses him deeply. Moving carefully. He parts for air. Goes in for another. Another. Another. And Viktor is so shockingly soft. From his lips to his little sighs to the hand he has placed on the back of Jayce’s neck. Viktor is the one to deepen the next kiss. Swiping his tongue against Jayces bottom lip.

“Let me take you home,” Jayce whispers into his neck. “Please.”

Viktor shivers underneath him.

“Yes,” he says, kissing the top of Jayce’s head. Viktor is looking him like that. Jayce takes a moment to soak it in, that look. Burn it into his memory.

“What are you waiting for?” Viktor asks. “Go get the car.”

[END]

#i tried to embrace the cringe and redact as little as possible lmao #ask bee #coming home but not to you #this is kind of insane to do? but also whatever #dskfljdf #me high and depressed in my bedroom one evening last fall #you know. i like these guys. what if they kissed. but they had hated each other before #and they were in modern times

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laniemae · 10 hours ago

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An analysis on Ojima’s backstory and [Brusie]

Since the topic of Ojima’s trauma has been explored in the story more recently, I feel that this is a good time to do a proper analysis on it. Ojima’s trauma is a very heavy and taboo subject to talk about, so I figured that this’d need to be done, as you have to take it into consideration when trying to understand his character. Keep in mind I am not a victim of or know anyone who has been subject to abuse, especially not of this nature, so I can’t properly understand what Ojima has went through. I’m trying to be respectful and keep an open mind while doing this analysis.

[TW for discussion of: CSA, Rape, Incest, Physical/emotional abuse, gaslighting, derealisation]

I’m not exactly sure where to start with this, but I feel like we should take into consideration Ojima’s family situation. As we all know from now Ojima grew up in an incredibly abusive household. The majority consensus before [Bruise] was that Ojima’s father (Ojima Shigeo) was the one who was sexually abusing him. Even though we know that isn’t what happened that doesn’t make him any less of a horrible person, as in [Purple] when talking about the Ojima family Hiroaki mentioned that one of the charges Shigeo was arrested for was beating his kids along white collar charges relating to the company. We don’t know too much about Ojima’s mother, but since it’s been said that she was arrested as well despite not being part of the company it’s very likely she was abusive. Recently we learnt that Ojima’s uncle was the one who was raping him, from when he was three years old to fifteen years old, which is also around the time his parents were arrested.

It’s absolutely disgusting that Ojima was only three years old when this started, he was a toddler. Three years old is when long term memories start to form so it’s very likely that being sexually assaulted would’ve been Ojima’s first memory. He could barely even talk at this age and with how he put it he couldn’t even tell anyone for years, let alone have the slightest comprehension of what was happening to him. And when he did become able to tell his brother what was happening, he told his dad and as we know he got extremely angry and started accusing Ojima of lying, and even gaslighting him into believing that it never occurred while the abuse was very much still ongoing and was still putting Ojima with his uncle. Deliberately being ignorant of all the psychological and physical damage that he would’ve shown. So for almost his entire life Ojima was either stuck between being emotionally and physically abused by his father or being raped by his uncle.

Abuse like this, especially coming from a family member who you were supposed to trust is incredibly traumatic, and how Ojima remarks trusting his uncle when he was talking about his experiences. As even though the adults in his family have done horrible things to him, I could imagine it being a point of conflict for Ojima internally still craving his parent’s and his uncle’s love, as that’s what family members should do. And how horrific it was of them to take advantage of a child like this. It comes to me as interesting that Ojima said that he first told his brother about what was happening to him, rather than directly telling his parents. But even with how his brothers legitimately care for him it would’ve been hard for them to help Ojima specifically, as they were all under an incredibly abusive household.

Ojima’s maladaptive daydreaming as a trauma response is something to consider a lot. Maladaptive daydreaming doesn’t always occur as a trauma response and can just happen but in this case it is. It was a type of environment where he went through so much abuse that his mind had to split off into another world where he could feel safe and have control just to survive. Maladaptive daydreaming can start at a very young age (as young as 5 from what I’ve read) so Ojima has probably been living this way for a very long time. As with lots of trauma responses this which would’ve kept him safe throughout his childhood is now heavily hindering Ojima with his life after escaping the abuse. Ojima has talked about how much his daydreaming affects his life with missing out on deadlines and lots of his life in the real world from it. And even in the secret logs we see how he can go for days only daydreaming and how his grades are slipping, likely due to it as well. One thing that is particularly sad is that it definitely seems that Ojima’s daydreaming and his inattentiveness towards reality can be physically dangerous with him. As in [Two Truths and a Lie] we learn that he has broken a ton of bones, which likely comes from his dissociation causing accidents.

There’s also one thing I have been thinking a lot about with Ojima’s trauma response of daydreaming and ignoring all his problems. That perhaps one of the reasons why he developed derealisation and another world he can go to without thinking about his suffering specifically was influenced by how his father was gaslighting him into believing it wasn’t happening. And trying to repress the trauma that he went through and bury it down while being told he was lying when it was constantly happening could’ve lead to this. So if he could just not think about it, it’d feel easier for him. As I can’t believe how damaging psychologically for Ojima, who would’ve been really young and susceptible, to be told by his father that he was lying about the abuse his uncle was inflicting on him while constantly being subject to it. That he was made to blame himself for what was happening to him and believing he’s crazy, and since the abuse was happening throughout his entire life eventually it would’ve been normalised. I keep thinking back to [Lettuce] and [Breathe In] where in the auditorium Chiba accidentally triggered Ojima’s derealisation when she suggested that everything may just be a dream which lead him to have an anxiety attack. Ojima’s reaction here makes sense as it’s common for people with dissociative disorders or stuff of the liking to be triggered by the prospect of unreality, but I can’t help thinking that part of this could’ve gone back to how Ojima’s father was telling him that the abuse wasn’t happening, probably even telling him it was a dream as well. That what Chiba said could’ve set him off in both ways relating to his fear of unreality and his trauma relating to what he was told.

Ojima’s whole relationship to the idea of opening up to people definitely seems to have also been heavily influenced by the gaslighting as well. As he’s so against telling people about his problems as he’s been taught throughout his childhood that trying to talk to someone would only get you hurt more, and this must’ve internalised into him being so shut off I can imagine. There’s also what would’ve made things worse when how his parents were arrested and he was finally able to escape from the abuse. Due to coming from a rich and influential family his situation was highly publicised across the media and we’ve been shown how he’s been constantly pestered for interviews because of that. That not even being able to try and properly heal and with people trying to get an insight into his life would’ve made Ojima’s mentality on this even worse, and how he struggles so much to get help. With how he’s dropped out of therapy eight times from how he’s worried about telling all his feelings to a stranger, and as well his hatred of being pitied for his trauma and treated like a little kid. I’m also thinking back to a scene in [Tech Support] where when Ojima was trying to help Wada fix his computer he noticed how he was hurting. Wada panicked and said that he can’t talk about it when Ojima asked if it was Okazaki who hurt him. And how Wada should tell someone if she was hurting him. And interestingly enough when Wada said “I’m not supposed to tell” we saw Ojima flinch for a second then told him that he can always tell. And with the further context we have on Ojima the way he reacted here makes sense with what he know about his past and telling people. I find it interesting how even though Ojima is adverse to talking to people and opening up about his own struggles, he acknowledges that it is the best thing to do as with how he said Wada should tell someone if he’s being hurt.

Even how with Ojima is always very close to Hiroaki and even from their relationship we’ve seen, Ojima has a hard time opening up to him, often panicking and shutting him down whenever he gets close to bringing up his trauma. [Young Forever] was the closest we’ve seen to Ojima opening up to Hiroaki, but we still see how affected and scared he is of doing so. How they were talking about how Ojima must’ve felt when his parents got arrested and how he’s worried about everything suddenly changing in his life and how things happen too quickly, and how he never got to be a kid. That he’s missing his entire childhood which was stolen away from him and how he can never get back. That Ojima is stuck as a seventeen year old who never got to live as a child, whose innocence was stripped away from him so young and was forced to grow up too quickly. But simultaneously from his lost childhood you can still see that at heart he’s just a kid. How even as a teenager he takes comfort in illustrating and reading books meant for very young children and his daydream world is implied to be childish as well. That Ojima is stuck in the limbo between these two conflicting sides both having never been a child yet yearning for a sense of kindness and innocence still in his teenage years. That he’d just rather stay forever young in the safe space he has made for himself in his mind where he had nowhere to go in his childhood. And how the parallels of him painting a beautiful sky on the balcony shutter that is keeping him locked inside the school to how metaphorically he painted on the walls of the cage which was his home life into the view of a free, happy world. Such as he draws on the walls of his own room at his home.

In the same episode, Hiroaki suggests that Ojima really should talk to someone professional about his trauma and Ojima remarks how feels as he’s not ready to do so, that he just can’t and doesn’t want to think about it. That even opening up to a therapist or whoever is so scary to him from having to face his trauma head on instead of repressing it like what he’s been doing his whole life. But the only way you can properly heal from trauma is to face it and acknowledge it and to learn from there. It comes to me as it being incredibly impactful that Hayashi was the first person Ojima properly opened up to regarding his trauma surrounding sexual abuse as in that episode we also learn that Hayashi is a survivor of it as well. Everyone already knew about Ojima’s trauma from all the way back in [Confession Game] where his secret was leaked to everyone else. Hayashi had suggested telling Ojima her story in which I could see as even though they’re not close and have rarely talked to each other, that it comes from the understanding that they have been through the same thing. In which turn lead Ojima to properly open up to someone about his trauma.

Ojima envies Hayashi for feeling that she’s become so strong. That when Ojima figured out that Hayashi had killed the man who raped and abused her he started calling her incredible and looking up to her, and stuttering for a second that he could never [do something like that himself]. That Ojima jumped to viewing Hayashi as everything he isn’t, someone who was strong and able to fight back against who hurt them, to not let themselves submit to and be broken by someone who hurt them so badly and had a home to go to. He starts feeling bad about himself for how he can’t understand how she can just decide to be strong. That he feels so small and can’t let his trauma not overtake every aspect of his life. Ojima says he’s not strong, but in my opinion I really don’t think so. Despite how he views himself Ojima has an incredible sense of willpower. The fact that he’s been able to sign up for therapy on eight seperate occasions and keep going with the knowledge that he needs help and is actively seeking it out despite how closed off he his, just shows how strong he is despite how psychologically shattered he may be. That there’s still hope for him to keep reaching for.

Hayashi isn’t necessarily stronger than Ojima for how she’s learnt to heal as what Ojima thinks. Hayashi as a person has had a loving family who was able to support her and help her heal through her trauma and wouldn’t let it take over her entire life. And how she’s opening up to Ojima about her experiences, and how she sees that Ojima is still very much new to a life without abuse and is broken and suffering after everything. Hayashi hasn’t completely healed from her trauma, it’s impossible to properly recover from that. But she’s had a supportive system who has allowed her to come to a point in her life where she can feel strong again. And how she tells Ojima that despite how he had nowhere to go in his life, if at this point in time he’s living with his brothers who are very supportive to him that he should open up and let them help him. I think Hayashi said it best herself in this part.

“Y-you’re… so much stronger than me…”

“I’m not. I’ve just had more practice. You’re still you, Ojima. Even after all the shit you’ve gone through. You’re always gonna be you.”

This episode helps as a massive step in Ojima’s direction to help and begin to heal from the trauma he’s been through. For 12 whole years of his life he’s only known rape, physical abuse and gaslighting, but he’s not a lost cause. He remarks how he feels as if he can never be okay after that, that he can never feel strong and how he can never feel like he doesn’t belong in his own body anymore, describing as feeling infected. It’s hard to imagine how mentally and physically scarred he is from everything that happened to him. Ojima is 17 now, so he only had 2 years of his life that he could remember not being abused. I feel like that’s something not talked about enough, how scary it must’ve been when his whole life was flipped when his parents were arrested and he was taken into custody of his older brothers. Living a life where you only knew being abused, it eventually starts to become normal. That Ojima would’ve been so used to the abuse that the moment he was in a pain free environment it would’ve felt incredibly unknown and scary. It’s not that abuse victims would’ve preferred the abuse, it’s that they’d start to miss it because it was at least something familiar. That if they aren’t used to feeling comfort and love, it can feel alien to them. Ojima is still very young, and even though he can seem so put together and mature at times, it can really show how much he’s still adapting at times. That he’s afraid of getting older but mourns never being able to live the innocent life of a kid. And how he expresses himself through drawing illustrations for children’s books, manifesting art of kind and safe worlds which he years for.

Ojima is such an incredibly interesting character and he is so tragic yet so human at the same time. It was hard to write this type of analysis going over Ojima’s traumatic childhood and how it has affected him from what we know at this point, but it has to be done. I’d really love to see other peoples thoughts on this subject as well, that even if it’s upsetting to think about it, if you want to analyse Ojima’s character like this that you can. Ojima is a character very close to my heart so properly going over his life does make me sad, but I feel as we should appreciate how Tetro has written his character so well and realistically. I hope if you’re reading this you have a good day, as stuff like this can be tough at times.

#tetro danganronpa pink #tetro danganronpa #Ojima takeshi #tw csa #tw child abuse #tw derealization #tw gaslighting #genuinely teared up multiple times writing this analysis #ojima is such an incredible character I wish only for happiness in his life #he needs a hug

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indomitable-rp-resources · 1 day ago

Text

The Wild Robot Sentence Starters

Change pronouns and terms as needed!

“Hello! Bonjour! Guten tag! Hujambo! ¡Hola!”

“Do you need assistance?”

“DO YOU NEED ASSISTANCE??”

“Are you here to kill us?”

“Ooooh, pretty. Get it!!”

“This is what I get for taking a walk.”

“Where’s your mommy, little guy?”

“You gotta die faster!”

“Uh, why aren’t we killed yet?”

"That ___ stalks me, emits noise, and makes simple tasks more complicated or impossible."

“As far as he’s concerned, you’re his mother now.”

“I do not have the programming to be a mother.”

“But it’s not all bad. Just… mostly bad.”

“Patience is the key.”

“It’s okay, Mom, I’m alive!”

“It’s okay, I won’t eat him.” / “Are you crazy?! I might eat him!”

“Do you believe everything you hear?”

“I believe I am under attack.”

“Ugh… Do I have to do EVERYTHING?”

“Kindness is NOT a survival skill."

"Understood. Do not mention dead family."

"Swimming's easy; I can teach him the way my mom taught me. SWIM!"

"Just... I dunno... Don't get attached to the little guy."

"Ugh. So we're doing this."

"New project!"

"Is it normal to burp this much?"

"I know it was you. And I know where you live."

"Kids need to feel safe and loved and all that junk."

"NOT YET!"

"Yeah, well, when you grow up without something, you... spend a lot of time thinking about it."

"Death's proximity makes life burn all the brighter."

"I prefer he be independent closer to home."

"He won't die. Well... probably won't die. It's unlikely he would die... just right now."

"(Name), focus on me!"

"So was it just guilt? Is that why you did this?"

"You don't understand anything! You don't feel anything!"

"You're not my mom."

"I don't know!! I'm just making stuff up!"

"I don't know what I'm doing, and I have to! I have to because he's relying on me!"

"I have a kid."

"You are in the wrong place, and you have become the wrong thing."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not sure I'd want to see the sort of place you actually 'fit in'."

"Your life is not negotiable."

"I'm fine. Go again."

"Remember, there's nothing he can do that you can't."

"(Name) was never supposed to get this far. You know that."

"GET YOUR BUTT BACK UP IN THE AIR WHERE IT BELONGS!"

"Gentle motivation is a mom skill. You'll learn it."

"Funny how life works."

"Thank you for looking after my... For looking after (name)."

"You are a credit to... whatever species it is you belong to."

"I'd say you shine like new."

"How do you know if you love something? Some... one?"

"Sometimes hearts have their own conversations."

"Sometimes, to survive, we must become more than we were programmed to be."

"I need you to promise me one thing: a truce."

"He'll be here. I know he will."

"You seem... happy."

"Despite my cheery demeanor, I am unfeeling, inflexible, and morally neutral."

"Lying your butt off back there!"

"I'm already home."

"It's all you. Make it look good."

"We need everything inside that head of yours."

"Can I keep just... one?"

"What happened was not your fault."

"What you did to try and fix it is everything."

"I love you... Mom."

"Male bovine excrement!"

"Now say I'm cool. And don't lie."

"(Name) has nothing to do with this."

"We will just keep coming until we have you!"

"Don't be afraid."

"Whoa-whoa-whoa! D-Don't you need that?!"

"I have everything I need."

"Do not scare me like that again."

"If they come back, I'm gonna bite them."

"They will just keep coming until they have me."

"We can fight them off as many times as we need to."

"There are things there that I must put right."

"What if I need to tell you something, and you're not here?"

"When it is time, I promise I will find my way home."

#rp memes #sentence starters #roleplay starters #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #sentence meme #rp prompts #the wild robot

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 2 days ago

Note

can you write something freaky for Joker perchance... i need him so bad he's so pathetic and sad and i wanna kiss him... uuuuuaaau💔

I dont know what happened but i tried lol

Rated: Mature | Warnings: based on the Morningstar essence, power imbalance, reader is a 'saint' and weepy their 'pet', it kinda soft???

The scarring on his face could be fixed if you got to him sooner, your fingers touch his face with extra care as he is struggling to not tremble. The court jester was quiet the moment he entered your bedchambers, he continues to be quiet as he is kneeling before you. He wears nothing but the collar of ownership, a gift from the new Sun King to you— Morningstar knows you love broken things.

His face without the mask exposes the meek man underneath, thin and pale like a freshly made scroll, his eyes are a pretty dark grey that reminds you of coal.

“You hate us, don't you?” You stand up, stand above him blocking the setting sun behind coming from the stained glass window; you look majestic, as majestic as the day he saw you killing his betters.

You both frighten and mesmerize him, a general and saint.

“No, your worship.” His voice shakes with the lie. His eyes lower with his head but stop when you stop him with your fingers on his chin.

“It is okay to have malice in your heart,” Petting the brushed fluffy monochrome hair, “You only know the pain of your past masters, you are used to their tainted affections.”

“Aren't you no better?” He quickly bows his head to the floor after speaking out of turn, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please mercy, your worship.”

They say the Morningstar found the true saint of the moon, that when he saw your light he knew he was blessed. With silver feathers, with gleaming steel, you stood by him as a saint of the hunter's moon.

The Lunar Goddess’ chosen and her child.

“You speak truthfully,” Kneeling down and helping him stand up, “Do not hold back your feelings from me, dear one. I wish to know your thoughts, share your feelings, and release you from your burdens.” Gentle enough you see a tear fall down his face.

The jester can not help but silently cry as you show your concern for him.

If this is a lie, if this is a show to trick him, do not blame his heart for latching onto you, his new master.

“My apologies for how they dressed you for me. Though the Eclipse King does promise to set things right,” Frowning at the lack of clothes on the jester, “His heart holds sadistic tendencies at the moment.”

The puppy ears, his muzzle, his smalls; he is presented to you as a pet dog to be played with. You guide him to your bed where you use the soft bed sheets to cover him.

“I… Do you not wish for me to warm your bed?” He is at a loss.

“The night is warm enough, dear one. Enjoy my bedchambers as you wish, you are mine so you do as you wish. I need to read over several documents before I rest.” You move to stand but he grabs your hand urgently.

“Do not leave me alone,” Begging, “I am only safe under your presence, your worship.” His head bowed against your hand.

You take a deep breath then let it out, “Alright, I will stay. I suppose those scrolls aren't going anywhere.”

#idv #reader insert #idv x reader #identity v x reader #identity v #identity v x you #idv x you #asks #weeping clown x reader #identity v weeping clown #weeping clown #idv weeping clown #weeping clown x you

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the-morningstar-family · 2 days ago

Note

Well this should be interesting.....

Alastor feels glued to the ground. Surely he's mistaken. Surely he's hallucinating. How- why-

Both her and his eyes are wide, staring at each other.

Husk: “No fucking way-”

As with anyone after death, they might look very different from when they were alive. They might look the same. Theadora certainly had a few human features. But what makes Alastor's heart ache is the voice he just heard and those wonderful eyes he's missed so much.

He's halfway torn between running away, so she'll never see what he has become or rushing to her, to hold her close and bite anyone who dares to seperate them.

This mental indecisiveness translates to him staying still like a deer in headlights. Until his legs finally make a decision before his brain does. Like in trance he staggers forward. Only to be stopped by a blade.

Lute: “Watch it, sinner”

He sneers, but doesn't move. He's not as agile as usual. But Vaggie is soon between them.

Vaggie: “You watch it. This is our home”

Lute: “That sinner has no business mingling with a winner-”

Lucifer is already rushing down, already fuming seeing Lute far too close to his pregnant partner with an angelic speer

Lucifer: “Take that speer away!”

The fallen angel stops himself as he sees that the both deers have already layed eyes on eachother.

Theadora looks so tired and sickly, and it makes the demon nauseous. It's supposed to be perfect for her, she certainly earned it. Theodora doesn't care and goes around Lute to her son. The demon almost makes a step back as she reaches out, afraid of her disappearing, that all of this is a hallucination. But no, solid hands cup his face, and he only can take a jerky breath.

Theodora: “My darlin' sweet Alastor. My Alli... I thought I'd never lay eyes on you again.”

Alastor: “Mama….”

Few things take away the radio demons speech. He puts his hands over hers.

Father like daughter, both Lucifer and Charlie look teary eyed at the display. The rest is still trying to compute.

Suddenly there is a light glow emitting from both their chests. The exorcist separates them with her speer.

Lute: “What are you doing?!”

Lucifer: “I told you to take that away -!”

Alastor: “I didn't do -!”

The glow turns black and bunch a bit over. Lucifer is quick to get to his partner to support him, while Lute goes to Theadora.

Lute: “Stop that!”

Alastor, huffing: “I'm not doing anything!”

He wants to go back to her. The need feels as strong as breathing. Sera finally descents the stairs.

Sera: “What is going on?! You are supposed to heal her not hurt her!”

Lucifer: “This just happened! I don't know what this is!”

Sera: “As it seems we can't come to agreement -”

Lucifer: “No! Wait, we can figure this out!”

Sera: “We can not. It is my duty to protect heaven-”

A portal opens and Lute gets ready to help Theodora through. But both deer's eyes widen.

Alastor and Theodora: “Wait!”

They manage to get back into each other's arms, and immediately feel relief. Both of the pain and from the fear of being separated yet again. The glow changes back. They all stand still. The seraphim seems angry.

Sera: “Lucifer. Explain this!”

Lucifer: “I have no clue. We don't- No one has any idea how soul rot works… I think - maybe they need to stay together?”

Lute takes visibly offence to that, Alastor, in turn, subtly puts himself In front of his mother.

Lute: “You are not taking her hostage”

Lucifer: “What? No I mean-”

Lute: “No winner will stay in hell, and not sinner in heaven.”

The king doesn't know what to say, he turns to the seraphim.

Lucifer: “Sera- it would harm them both- And Alastor can't -”

Sera: “I don't want her to stay Lucifer.“

Lucifer: “What other choice is there?”

Theodora: “Sera, it's alright”

Sera: “How am I supposed to explain this?”

The radio demon has by now regained his wits, and playing his well practiced persona.

Alastor: “If I may? He'll is no stranger to the rot, but what just happened is entirely new, and much faster”

Lute: “Oh all of the sudden? I don't believe filthy sinners!”

Theodora frowns. Trying to step out from behind Alastor, who desperately tries to stop that.

Theodora: “Don't you call my boy filthy.”

Alastor: “Wether or not you believe me, the fact of the matter is, that if you separate us, we might very well die. And I cannot let that happen”

He draws the attention back to himself. No he can't let that happen. He'd die, his babies would die his Mama would die. No that is something he will not be responsible for again.

Lute: “So you are holding her hostage”

Alastor: “No, but I will not let her-”

He grows more demonic, but there is a small tug on his jacket, and he realises who's watching him. He turns his head back to his concerned mother. The distraction is long enough for Lute to gear up and swing-

And in the being stopped last second by Lucifer, now in his full on demonic form.

Lucifer: “ĐØ₦'₮ ɎØɄ Đ₳ⱤɆ!”

Behind the king, Alastor takes his mother and takes a few steps back out of reach with both angels.

Lucifer: “For the protection of both Alastor and Theodora, I declare that they both stay in hell, until we find out how to heal them!”

Sera: “You have no right to rule over angels”

Lucifer: “And you have no right to rule over sinners”

They stare at each other, the air is thick with dread. One can hear the fire sizzling on Lucifer's head, and Sera's wings are visibly tense.

Sera: “Lucifer, I am warning you. Release Theodora"

Lucifer: “... I can't in good conscious.”

Sera: “Then we will by force.”

Lucifer: “Go back to heaven-”

Sera: “No-”

Lucifer: “Yes”

Behind the seraphim and her exorcist a Portal glows up. The gold tells Alastor is his partner's. He keeps his mother close as the kings powers is banishing the other two.

Sera, steely: “You are forcing us to war, Lucifer”

Lucifer: “I won't let you hurt people anymore”

And with that

They're gone

And it's quiet

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blackcoldcrackedheart · 2 days ago

Text

I wrote something depressing with clingy (ex) boyfriends

They found Maddie.

That’s what Buck had to remind himself as he walked into his apartment. They found Maddie.

Barely alive.

But breathing.

He hadn’t been able to breathe since he and the others realized that she had been kidnapped. Thirty-six miserable hours but they found her.

That monster hadn’t killed or anything else…

But she was put into a coma due to her injuries.

And the baby…

Kevin Daniel Han.

Born three months too early, was barely hanging on to life in the NICU.

He didn’t want to leave, he shouldn’t have left. But he and Chimney couldn’t be in the same room with each other right now.

At this point, it felt like they would never be in the same room or even friends ever again. And Buck couldn’t blame Chimney for that. He could only blame himself.

He was supposed to pick up Maddie from her doctor’s appointment, but he had forgotten. He had called Maddie, telling her he had made plans with Eddie since Eddie needed his help to move some stuff into storage.

Maddie said it was fine.

She was fine.

Five hours later, Chimney had called him asking where they were.

He should have picked up Maddie.

He messed up.

Buck felt his entire body heat up with tension as the quietness of his apartment got to him. It was dark, barely 5 am. Downtown LA was even too eerily quiet for him.

He needed noise.

And chaos.

To help forget that he was alone.

If he lost Maddie, he would really be alone.

He let her down.

He gripped the counter, the cool touch of it not doing anything to help him. He felt his anger bubble as he started to breathe heavily.

It was them against the world. He couldn’t lose her now. He barely got time with her.

‘I need more time with her.’ He thought miserably as the anger and panic began to spread throughout his body. He felt his eyes burn with tears. 'I want more time with her'

He was panicking.

He couldn’t breathe because he was panicking.

He almost lost his sister because of his selfishness.

If Maddie died it was going to be on him.

Jee-Yun wouldn’t have a mom because of him.

Kevin, if he even survived, wouldn’t have a mom because of him.

Buck could be responsible for killing his sister and nephew.

‘BANG BANG BANG’

Buck felt himself jolt. He looked around his apartment again, not knowing where the sound came from.

“Evan, open the door!”

Buck wasn’t sure how but the door opened. He was only half sure he opened the door himself.

“Tommy.”

Buck was sure he was hallucinating. He hadn’t slept in over a day so maybe he was.

Tommy was standing in front of him, looking worried and hurried in pajama bottoms and a LAFD hoodie. He had stubble around his jaw and his hair was sticking out in tuffs, Buck hardly noticed Tommy wearing sandals- it was 50 degrees in LA during the early morning.

Meaning Tommy had left for Buck’s place without much planning or thought.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Buck asked, stumbling back as Tommy let himself in.

Tommy looked taken back, his eyes settling on Buck’s hands as he closed the door. “You’re bleeding.” Tommy noted with worry.

Buck looked down at his hands, at the same time as Tommy, he had noticed jagged pieces of the ceramic bowl that used to be on his counter. Laid in strewn pieces on the floor.

“I-uh.” Buck stammered to figure out an answer, barely registering Tommy going to the sink and grabbing a wet cloth to clean Buck’s cuts. “I don’t-I don’t know how I did that.” Buck admitted, fearful about what had happened. Had he spiraled so much that he didn’t even know he had slammed the bowl to the floor?

Tommy made a soft humming sound, “I heard about Maddie.” His voice soft and gentle as he cleaned away Buck’s hands. “I wanted to check in on you.” Buck looked at him, trying his best to swallow down the sob in his throat.

He was futile when it came to the tears falling and his nose running though. He wiped aware the tears and snot with his sleeve. “Uh.” He swallowed audibly, his hand shaky as he rubbed his jaw- the tension from grinding his teeth only made his headache worse. “She-She’s safe. I-I don’t know if she’s g-going to make it.” Buck knew his voice was becoming quieter with every word. It felt like he was making a dirty and disgusting confession.

He could lose his sister.

Buck didn’t have much of a constant in his life.

Except for Maddie.

“I killed my sister.” He sobbed, the words felt vile coming out. He felt like he wanted to throw-up as he started to cry.

He felt something warm and solid pull him.

“Hey, hey.” Tommy cooed, wrapping his arms around Buck for a tight embrace. “I got you.” He whispered into Buck’s hair as Buck felt himself go lax, without Tommy leading him down, Buck surely would have fallen roughly on his knees. But Tommy had him.

Tommy made sure to hold him as Buck sobbed, clutching onto Tommy’s hoodie as he mourned. “I got you, Evan.” Tommy murmured again, running his fingers through Buck’s curls, his lips brushing against Buck’s temple. “

He wasn’t sure how.

But Buck knew it was after sunrise. The sunlight was staring to shine through the apartment windows.

Buck knew he was back at his apartment, but it took a moment to realize he was half laying down on top of someone.

Someone male.

And familiar.

It had been ages since he fell asleep against Tommy’s chest, but he missed it. Missed how Tommy’s steady heartbeat felt like a metronome lulling him to sleep. He felt warm and safe and steady.

The complete anthesis to what he was feeling hours ago.

He felt Tommy’s fingers in his hair, gently scratching his scalp. It had its desired effect, Buck felt himself go lax, the tension bleeding out from his muscles as he buried his face into Tommy’s chest. The hoodie smelled like Tommy- oxiclean detergent and vanilla sandalwood from that bodywash that Buck liked to use whenever he stayed at Tommy’s place.

Buck knew Tommy was awake.

He didn’t care that they were broken up. Buck didn’t care that he had spent ages and baked enough pastries to fill maybe half-dozen Ralph’s displays. He just wanted to feel like he had a constant again.

His arms were already wrapped around Tommy’s middle, Buck just held him tighter, maybe a little self-conscious that he had reached for under Tommy’s hoodie. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Tommy wasn’t wearing anything under the hoodie. Tommy usually slept without a top, which meant that Tommy did rush over to see Buck.

“How did you know about Maddie?” Buck asked, his voice still raw.

He heard Tommy sigh, the other hand that wasn’t in Buck’s hair went to rub his arm. Buck wasn’t sure if Tommy was looking at him, but he didn’t care. He relished how Tommy’s warm hand ran up and down his arm.

“I got up to let Rocker out and saw the missed calls and texts from Hen and Eddie.” Tommy explained quietly. “I got worried and came here first. I heard you throw that bowl after I started knocking but when you didn’t answer, that’s when I started pounding the door. I seriously thought your neighbors were going to call the cops on me.” He moved to sit up, causing Buck to sit up. They were still physically close, Buck was practically sitting on Tommy’s legs still.

Tommy pushed back his curls from Buck’s face, his blue eyes surprisingly watery. Buck noticed he looked so serious and worried, Tommy’s hand brushed against his birthmark and cheek. “You said last night you killed your sister.” Tommy was already shaking his head at that, “You know that’s not true, right?”

“Might as well be true.” Buck sighed, closing his eyes momentarily as he rubbed his face.

“No.” Tommy said resolutely, “It’s not.” He pulled Buck’s hand away, grasping it tightly before letting go. “You didn’t kill your sister.”

“Tell that to Chimney.” Buck told him miserably.

Tommy paused at that, glaring as he promised “I will.” He didn’t miss Buck’s questionable glance, a question there for later, “You didn’t kill your sister.” He repeated, “Maddie wouldn’t want you to believe that, much less think it.”

“Really?” Buck scoffed, “If it wasn’t for me, Maddie would be safe. If I went to pick her up then she would-”

“Probably still be in the hospital.” Tommy cut him off firmly, he squeezed Buck’s knee. “Evan, you’re gonna have so many ‘what ifs’ flying through your head right now and I can tell you this, none are going to undo what happened. You could have picked her up and stayed at her place for hours, he could have waited till after you left to get her, he could have kidnapped you both, hell he could have broken in while Maddie and Chim were at home in the middle of the night.” Tommy saw the truth dawn onto Buck then, the younger man casted his head down, tears still cascading down his cheeks. Tommy knew he felt hopeless, it was a helpless situation.

“So you’re saying I would have failed anyway.” Buck murmured miserably.

Tommy lifted Buck’s chin by his index and ring finger, he got Buck to lift his head up, but Buck wasn’t looking at him. “Hey,” he said gently, tilting his head so that he could look into Buck’s eyes directly. “I’m saying,” he cupped Buck’s face, his thumbs brushing the tears away, “That this could have unfortunately gone so many ways and there’s no point in driving yourself crazy with asking yourself “what if”, no one could have predicted this and no one wanted this, Evan.”

Buck sniffed, turning his head away so that Tommy’s hands were no longer on his face. He rubbed his face with his sleeve again, not caring it was crusted in snot from last night. “I-I know I’m making this about me when-”

“She’s your sister. Your allowed to make this about you.” Tommy reminded him pointedly, looking affronted on Buck’s behalf. “She had a hand in raising you.”

“Yeah, I-I know.” Buck felt his voice hitch with emotions, he took a deep breath in and out, appreciating that Tommy didn’t move away from him. Tommy’s weight against his body even provided Buck relief. “I-I just don’t know what I would do if I lost her.” He admitted, he let out a depressing and wet laugh. “I don’t think I would be okay losing her like that, Tommy.”

Tommy nodded, “Let’s not go down that road then.”

“Yeah.” Tommy was right.

He shouldn’t go down that road.

“She’s okay, right.” It wasn’t a question. Tommy knew she was okay, he said it as a reminder.

Maddie wasn’t dead.

“Right.”

“And the baby is okay.”

That took longer for Buck to agree with, the image of Kevin’s tiny chest heaving to breathe even on a ventilator was burned into Buck’s memory forever now.

“R-Right.” Buck sighed; it was hard to swallow the truth. He was starting to believe that it wasn’t his fault, but he saw Maddie and Kevin. It would have to take a miracle for both of them to be okay. “It’s really hard to believe that right now.”

“I know.” Tommy admitted, “But you have to believe that right now, because your sister and nephew need you.” He brushed away Buck’s tears the same time Buck tried to, earning a small smile from the other man. That had Tommy’s heart swelling, giving him more confidence to cup Buck’s cheek, thumb brushing at Buck’s birthmark again. He felt a sense of relief wash over him as he noticed Buck lean into the touch, “I know Howie and Jee-Yun are going to need you too. No matter what Howie says, you two are family. He’s gonna need you as much as you need him.”

Buck bit his lower lip, nodding and wiping away more tears. “Yeah, I-I know.” He sniffed again.

A part of him felt like he could believe it, believe that Chim would allow him to help and get close.

Tommy weirdly gave him that type of confidence.

Tommy made him feel confident and safe.

He pressed Tommy’s hand against his cheek harder, he knew he was touched starved, but he didn’t care.

He missed Tommy.

Buck felt his heart stammer in his chest as he watched Tommy’s eyes drop to his lips. Buck closed his eyes once Tommy’s thumb brushed over his lower lip. It sent a shiver throughout his body, he opened his eyes to see Tommy closer now. The other man’s lips so close to his.

Buck knew he was in deep when he realized he even missed Tommy’s morning breath.

“I should go.”

Tommy was doing it again, shutting down in a panic right in front of him. He grabbed Tommy’s hand and wrist.

“Stay.”

Tommy looked at him, he was clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable at what almost happened. “I-Evan, I shouldn’t have don-”

“I don’t care.” Buck pulled him, not back onto the couch, but enough that Tommy’s legs were back to pressing Buck’s again. “Stay.” He watched as Tommy’s eyes began to well up, Buck wasn’t too far from crying again himself. “Please, just-just stay.”

Tommy nodded quietly and Buck didn’t let go. He just shifted so that Tommy could sit with him in the middle of the couch, pressed tightly together. Buck said nothing, just content as he laid his head on Tommy’s shoulder. He was still gripping onto Tommy’s arm- opting to lace his fingers with Tommy’s, Tommy’s free hand was back in Buck’s hair. Buck closed his eyes again, feeling his muscles relax while Tommy’s rhythmic combing had him feeling at ease. Whole again, really.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Always.”

#bucktommy #tevan #buck x tommy #bucktommy fic rec #its fluffy but it hurts

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