#started thinking about this earlier because

[storm-and-starlight]

Oh, absolutely, I 100% agree that fanfic has huge amounts of interiority, "looking at the characters' thoughts that we never get to see" is a huge part of why it's written! What I'm referring to with "fanfiction bad habits" (if they can even really be called that, because they're not always bad habits if you're actually writing fic!) is stuff like overdescription of appearance or gesture. Fic authors are trying to indicate that the character on the page is the same character as is on the screen, and part of what is distinctive about the character on the screen is their appearance/physicality. For instance, in SPN Sam Winchester has long(ish) hair as... more of an appearance note than anything else? you can dig for character meaning but the show really doesn't do that, but it's one of the most iconic elements of his character, so it gets referenced in fic a LOT and often in places where on a technical level it's either unnecessary or actively slows down a scene. Same goes for trying to exactly describe character outfits. If you switch to original prose and aren't trying to match a character who primarily exists in visual media, you don't need to be constantly describing their hairstyle or walk or appearance, but the habit is there and might be hard to notice or break.

HOWEVER I also completely agree with your statement that a lot of authors (ahem ahem SANDERSON) are writing like they really want to make a movie or TV show, I don't have anything to add but. yeah. that's definitely something I've noticed as well.

A lot of fiction these days reads as if—as I saw Peter Raleigh put it the other day, and as I’ve discussed it before—the author is trying to describe a video playing in their mind. Often there is little or no interiority. Scenes play out in “real time” without summary. First-person POV stories describe things the character can’t see, but a distant camera could. There’s an overemphasis on characters’ outfits and facial expressions, including my personal pet peeve: the “reaction shot round-up” in which we get a description of every character’s reaction to something as if a camera was cutting between sitcom actors.

When I talk with other creative writing professors, we all seem to agree that interiority is disappearing. Even in first-person POV stories, younger writers often skip describing their character’s hopes, dreams, fears, thoughts, memories, or reactions. This trend is hardly limited to young writers though. I was speaking to an editor yesterday who agreed interiority has largely vanished from commercial fiction, and I think you increasingly notice its absence even in works shelved as “literary fiction.” When interiority does appear on the page, it is often brief and redundant with the dialogue and action. All of this is a great shame. Interiority is perhaps the prime example of an advantage prose as a medium holds over other artforms.

fascinated by this article, "Turning Off the TV in Your Mind," about the influences of visual narratives on writing prose narratives. i def notice the two things i excerpted above in fanfic, which i guess makes even more sense as most of the fic i read is for tv and film. i will also be thinking about its discussion of time in prose - i think that's something i often struggle with and i will try to be more conscious of the differences between screen and page next time i'm writing.

[chrisissobabygirl]

☆ pepsi-flavored lips - c.s

c/w: fluff, kissing, swearing, i think that's it??

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

you hadn't thought much of it when you picked up the pepsi-flavored chapstick from the nearby store, taking it like an impulse buy—something silly to throw into your bag at the checkout. sure, it was cheap and a little kitschy, but it reminded you of chris. hell, he practically had pepsi running through his veins at that point.

and it had to be the best purchase you had ever made because chris was fucking obsessed.

it started with an unassuming kiss—a quick, fleeting one as he flopped down next to you on the couch of your shared house with him and his brothers, nestling his arm around you.

"hey," he said, leaning in to press his lips against yours like a habit before pulling back, turning his attention to the rom-com you were watching, subconsciously rubbing small circles on your shoulder.

his movements halted, his brows furrowing. you glanced at him, anticipating an explanation. he turned to face you, his tongue darting out to swipe across his lips. "wait. what the hell?"

you glanced at him. "what?" you asked, fegning innocence. "i thought i finished the last can 'f pepsi, kid." chris narrowed his eyes at you, a sly grin slowly forming on his face.

"you did, chris." you replied, amused at his reaction. "then why'd ya' taste like pepsi, ma?" he asked, piecing the information together.

"i really have no idea, ch-" you were cut off by his lips brushing against yours again���for longer this time. he pulled back, his eyes alight with joy like a kid in a toy store. "you fuckin' liar."

your laughter was immediate, bubbling out of you in surprise. you reached into your pocket, and fished out the small tube of chapstick. "it's chapstick, christopher. pepsi-flavored. see? it's really not that deep. i'm not stealing your pepsi, dude."

your boyfriend snatched the chapstick out of your hands, squinting his eyes to read the small label out loud, grinning from ear to ear. "why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

"baby, it's just-" before you could complete your sentence, he lunged at you, attacking your lips with his soft ones. "you taste like pepsi," he muttered against your lips, his voice filled with awe.

you pulled away, giggling. "i think that's the point, chris." you pushed his hair out of his face. "best fuckin' purchase ever, ma," he let the chapstick fall onto the sofa and leaned in once more.

you laughed as he caged you against the couch cushions. his hands found your waist as he pressed his lips to yours again, this time slow and deliberate, savoring the flavor like he was tasting the cola from the can itself.

"you're insane," you mumbled, the grin tugging at your lips giving you away. "and you're delicious. you're wearin' this forever, y' know that, right?" he shot back, not missing a beat. "fuck, i'm buying this for you in bulk, kid."

shaking your head at his playful words, you couldn’t help the warmth blooming in your chest. a rush of affection overtook you, and without thinking, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in for another kiss, hard and unapologetic.

"fuckin' pepsi-flavored lips."

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

a/n: him accusing reader of stealing his pepsi is CRAZY work

wc: 532

[uisceb]

Okay I want to talk about this moment between Morrible and Glinda for a sec because it adds such a wonderfully sinister layer to a scene that is otherwise a triumphant defining moment for Elphaba, and it sets up the dynamics for Part 2 so perfectly.

At this point, we are in the thick of “Defying Gravity.” Everyone’s attention is on Elphaba - and rightfully so, she’s up there declaring war on the Wizard, displaying incredible feats of magic, of course everyone’s attention is on her.

…Everyone, except Morrible.

Morrible has realized that Plan A was a bust, but rather than panicking, she’s already worked over Plans B through Z in her head and has realized that Glinda, not Elphaba, is actually the key figure here. Glinda is actually the best thing that could have happened to them.

Mind you, Morrible hates Glinda. She thinks Glinda is vapid and attention-seeking and completely without talent. It would be extremely easy for her to brand Glinda as an accomplice to Elphaba, have the guards drag her off, imprison her, never have to deal with her again, nice and neat.

Instead, while everyone else is focused on Elphaba, Morrible only has eyes for Glinda. She zeroes in on her, releases her, and comforts her, because she understands what no one else understands, which is that yes, that’s great that the Wizard now has an enemy to unify his people against, but they also need a symbol of hope, something that is the exact antithesis to Elphaba, something to keep everyone at extremes. 

The Wizard himself can’t really be a symbol of hope, because the key to his success is that he remains shrouded in mystery, and yes people think he’s wonderful, but there’s a level of uncertainty and intimidation to him. He is Oz the Great and Terrible, and everyone’s preeeeeetty sure he’s a good guy, but if you have someone like Elphaba out there - who Morrible knows from experience is very smart, very articulate, and has her own sort of magnetism - there’s a potential that she could turn at least enough people against the Wizard to make things very inconvenient.

So what they need, now that they have an enemy, is to have an equally magnetic figurehead representing the Wizard who embodies all these one-dimensional ideas of goodness, someone for the public to adore and fawn over so the association between Wizard and Goodness is crystal clear.

And by bringing Glinda along, Elphaba has unknowingly served that figurehead up on a platter.

Glinda is everything Elphaba isn’t, from personality, to appearance - Morrible has already set Elphaba up by calling her green skin an “outward manifestorium of her twisted nature,” which paves the way for Glinda, who is the perfect conventional beauty, to be an “outward manifestorium” of pure goodness. 

Morrible realizes they need these two lightning rods of Absolute Evil and Absolute Good in order to manipulate people - fear alone isn’t enough; the only way to effectively radicalize the populace is to make sure there is no gray area whatsoever, no room for question: you're either good, or you’re evil. And the Wizard alone isn’t a strong enough representation of “goodness” when by virtue of existing, he has to remain in the shadows. Glinda on the other hand? With her looks and her charm and her openness and her ability to expertly win over a crowd? Perfect for the role.

Now the tricky part for Morrible is taking into consideration that Glinda and Elphaba love each other. But we also know from earlier scenes that Morrible is a master at manipulating emotions. Right from the start when Elphaba is having trouble with her magic, Morrible casually brings up the “Animals should be seen and not heard” disturbance from class, spoon-feeding her just enough to get Elphaba upset, triggering her magic, after which Morrible makes sure to give her assurance and praise to keep Elphaba optimistic about her power.

She’s also aware that Glinda does have quite a bit of influence over Elphaba, because when Elphaba flees, Morrible immediately tasks her with winning her over, rather than simply relying on the guards or even going after Elphaba herself. She knows if anyone has a chance at roping Elphaba back in, it's Glinda.

Obviously, Glinda isn’t successful in getting her back, but while this puts a dent in Morrible’s plans to get control of Elphaba, it does give her an extra weak spot to exploit in Glinda.

So now, at the height of “Defying Gravity” when Elphaba has officially taken her stand against them, Morrible sees Glinda, and Glinda is at her most vulnerable, her most emotionally fragile. Not only is she heartbroken and in shock, she’s also just witnessed in real time exactly how easy it is to turn an entire nation against someone. She’s scared, she’s powerless. She’s just lost the love of her life her only friend, she has no one to turn to - Morrible has definitely picked up on the fact that even though Glinda has countless people who fawn over her, none of them can be considered a true friend except for Elphaba, which means Glinda is completely isolated. Glinda also has a very limited understanding of the bigger picture of what the Wizard is trying to accomplish, and because she’s never been a victim of the system the way Elphaba has, she is still desperately clinging to the idea that everything will be okay as long as she plays by the rules of the people in power.

She has been perfectly primed for Morrible to begin manipulating, not through violence or intimidation, but by offering her comfort when no one else would - when not even Glinda’s only friend would - when no one else is even paying attention to Glinda, because they have the very real and present threat of Elphaba quite literally hanging over them. In this moment, Morrible chooses Glinda, which Glinda has been striving for since the beginning. Elphaba has chosen her principles, the Wizard has chosen his enemy, but Morrible has chosen Glinda, and in this moment of being so alone and so afraid and so betrayed, that makes all the difference.

We also get kind of a parallel shot too - Elphaba really sealed her fate the second her hand closed around the broom. But here, Glinda seals her fate when she gives in and reciprocates Morrible’s hold on her.

THIS is the moment that sets us up for Part 2, with Elphaba and Glinda as our lightning rods for Absolute Evil and Absolute Good, but more to the point, it makes it clear that they’ve BOTH been used, they’ve BOTH played right into these respective roles Morrible and the Wizard need in order to be successful - even if it wasn’t how Morrible originally planned for things to go.

I just love it, because “Defying Gravity” is Elphaba’s song - it’s triumphant, and it’s heartbreaking, and it’s everything a defining moment should be for a character. But by injecting this little moment between Morrible and Glinda into the scene, we also get an underlying current of dread because we know we’re about to see the consequences of Elphaba’s defiance versus Glinda’s compliance and how both serve to benefit the Wizard/Morrible’s propaganda.

TL;DR - when I said "I want to talk about this scene between Morrible and Glinda for a sec" I clearly meant "I'm gonna write a whole essay. Like a nerd."

[bbokicidal]

But What Do I Know? | SKZ [Virgin!OT8]

Just some odd headcanons I've got regarding Virgin!SKZ. Some things I think they're into, how they behave as virgins, etc. But again, what do I know?~

Members are grouped into categories for these headcanons.

Warnings: 18+ Content; Oral sex, fingering, spitting/spit mentioned, dry grinding/humping, cum, makeouts, biting

NSFW Masterlist | SFW Masterlist

Group Number One : The 'I swear I didn't know it would happen!' Boys [The Pants Cummers]

Virgin!Minho swears on his life - to himself, of course - that he WILL NOT come in his pants the first time the two of you have a heavy makeout session - but it happens anyways. And he realizes after that, that he kind of.. likes it? He learns if he grinds on you a little he also gets the friction from his jeans and that helps him come even faster. Forget being put down because he reaches his high in just a few minutes - he's trying to makeout with you as long as possible to see how many times he can come.

Virgin!Jisung is WILDLY embarrassed when it happens, until he realizes you never noticed. Even if he'd gotten all blubbery and started to whimper in nervousness, you'd though he was just enjoying himself and whining into your mouth because he was happy. But then he excused himself to the bathroom to clean up and took nearly half an hour, his ears still beet red when he returned to you. You'd asked what happened and when he was honest, you reassured him it was fine that it happened - and that you thought it was kind of hot. Now, he lets it happen to please you because he knows you like it - which makes him love it even more.

Virgin!Jeongin isn't really sure what happened the first time. He was making out with you, you were on top of him - and then his thighs were trembling and you were sitting up in shock. As soon as he realizes he'd just nutted in his boxers, he's flushed in the neck and chest with embarrassment. How did that happen - WHY did that happen? He's all whiny and whispering about how he's so so sorry that he'd just done that with you on top of him. But when you shush him and whisper that it's okay while kissing his neck and tugging his collar down to mark him up, he'd begun to think maybe it wasn't that bad. And if you kept kissing him like that it was definitely going to happen again.

Group Number Two : The Masters with their Hands

Virgin!Chris doesn't really have full confidence in himself when he slips a hand in your panties for the first time, but he'd done as much research as he possibly could before his date with you earlier that night so he was sure he'd be fine. And his confidence only raised after you let your head tip back and moaned out his name. He'd let out a sigh as he pushed two fingers into your warmth, new to the feeling of being inside of you but enjoying it nonetheless. And your reactions, your whining of how much you loved his hands and how big his knuckles are, how good they feel on your walls - Yeah, he's a bit cocky after that and no longer worried about if he'll be able to please you.

Virgin!Hyunjin knows what he's doing in theory - not in practice. He did no research but it can't be that hard; and for him, it's not. It seems to come to him naturally (after you having to guide his thumb to where your clit actually is), with his middle and ring fingers pushing deep into your pussy until your thighs were quivering against his hips. He's a master at multitasking, able to rub your clit with his thumb and pump his fingers into you almost too quickly too well. And all while hovering above you, biting his lip and looking so good, too? Almost a bit mean of him to be this pretty and talented in bed.

Virgin!Seungmin really only is good at this because he plays games on PC. He's use to clicking the keys quickly, using multiple fingers at once - so you'd best bet he's good at fucking his fingers into you so quick it's got you nearly crying against the sheets. Also another who's good at multitasking - again, because of gaming - but it's with his other hand this time. And his mouth. He'll lean down to suck on your clit, fuck two or three fingers into you, and reach up to grope and tug at your chest with what feels like practiced (even though it's not) ease. Also mean in bed but.. in a different way. ;]

Group Number Three : The 'I can't help it' Boys [The Bed Humpers]

Virgin!Changbin swears that he didn't even realize he was grinding against the mattress while making out with you until he was making a mess on the sheets. Usually it's you he teases about your orgasm hitting early or the way your legs tremble in need when he sucks on your chest during heavier makeout sessions. But this time? This time it was him being teased, plump cheeks rosy pink and eyes darting over the sheets where pre had leaked from his tip and smeared on the mint of your bed. He's pouty, swearing up and down he didn't realize he had done that, before being welcomed back into your waiting arms with a shy smile. He waits until he has your reassurance that it's okay and it's nothing to be embarrassed about before he lets it happen again - and even blushes and gets shy when you ask him a few weeks later why he isn't humping the blankets while he sucks on your neck and chest. You think it's cute - and he's happy to please.

Virgin!Felix is.. kind of shameless about it. He's happy to let you know he's into you by touching and kissing and whatever - but he's a little too shy, and inexperienced, to even think about grinding on you. Your hips? His hips? Not connecting just yet. He's waaaay too shy to do anything like that. But he does want the friction, does crave the touch and grind of it all, so he'll go for the next best thing - laying between your legs while he kisses you all nice and slow in the early morning and rolling his hips down against the mattress. The feeling of his pajama pants rubbing on his cock is perfect, and the stiffness of the mattress... It's enough to satisfy him without getting too touchy with you just yet. And you seem to find it cute, too, that he humps the mattress all shy and sweet. If he notices you looking or watching he'll probably stop but any other time he's happy to keep going. Though there have been a few times he's gotten closer and humped your thigh instead. Not that you were complaining.

Group Number Four : The '*moans while neck deep in pussy*' Boys [The Messy Eaters]

Virgin!Hyunjin looooooves eating pussy. It's his favorite past time actually. Not busy? He's on his knees between your legs while you watch a show. Getting ready for sexy time? He's on his knees at the end of the bed waiting. Getting home from work? He's kissing you in the doorway and pinning you there so he can go down on you right away and relieve any stress. Honestly just a househusband with a nasty mouth who CANNOT keep his spit in it. It's like he's feral, almost. The type of guy who growls when you try to pull away or who bites at your thighs, nipping at your clit when you squirm too much. Again, so inexperienced that he's honestly not super great at eating you out - but does his best and is more than enough to please, at the cost of spit dripping down his chin and your thighs.

Virgin!Jisung. I've said it before, I'm saying it again!! Jisung likes to eat you out but really only when it's something casual and lazy. At first he was SO nervous because he was afraid he'd mess up or be bad at it - but then he realized, you're.. pretty chill about it all. You'll be on your phone and he'll be between your legs, sucking on your clit and dragging his tongue through your folds like you're the sweetest ice cream he's ever tasted. He's sweet when he eats you out and he's really careful about it, but he's.. drooling everywhere. Maybe even builds up the courage to spit on it if he thinks you're not paying attention, only to apologize and giggle when you flinch in surprise.

If y'all want a part two let me know - I have like 4-5 other groups already written in my notes lol.

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek

[bewaryofpity]

you are drunk. and when you’re drunk you get clingy, but quinn is at home and you’re out at some random bar in vancouver with your girlfriends, which also means that you’re whiny.

it isn’t even late yet, just past midnight, but three shots in and just as many drinks and you’re drunk enough to start rambling to your friends about how much you love quinn. he is such a caring and soft boyfriend, always makes you feel loved, doesn’t forget to kiss you goodbye when he leaves early in the morning and you’re still asleep, sends you flowers out of the blue but especially when he’s on long roadies. he’s the perfect boyfriend and the alcohol isn’t helping your cause because now you miss him too much to function and the worst part is that you can’t even tell him you love him.

“she’s so gone, should i call an uber?”

“i think you should call q-u-i-n-n.”

“why are you spelling quinn’s name?”

“oh quinn, he's so pretty.” you cry, not real tears, but you whine at the mention of his name. you’re not crying yet and that’s exactly what one of your girlfriends was trying to avoid. it isn't something that bothers them as much as they would like to because you and quinn are actually cute, seemingly stuck in your honeymoon phase forever, to this day pining on each other.

and your friends are harmlessly jealous of you. you look at each other like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky. they saw it when they picked you up from your place earlier in the night and quinn came all the way downstairs to say goodbye to you and he kept on asking for one last kiss, you obviously giving in.

so to spare you from actually crying they called quinn, who was still awake despite having practice the next day because he knew well enough you were going to be needy at some point in the night.

and he giggles when he parks his car and looks at you, pouty and talking your friends’ ears off. you’re so beautiful he needs to take a moment before walking over to you and finally bringing you home. 

you don’t even realise quinn is standing beside you until your friends nudge you, interrupting your latest “he played so well yesterday, he looked so good too but he really needs to stop wearing that beanie because his hair is so pretty.”

“hi, baby.”

ideally, you could cry from how cozy and warm he looks in his big hoodie and sweatpants. it’s quite cold now, your choice of clothing not really ideal for this weather so you throw yourself at him to feel his warmth, finally able to love on him like you desperately craved all night.

“my baby is here!”

“let’s get you home, c’mon.” he blushes a little, teasing looks on your friends’ faces knowing he's still not keen on pda.

you don’t need him to tell you twice that you’re already jumping in the car and when he’s back in the driver’s seat you can’t help but bring him closer to you. quinn giggles as you start peppering his face with kisses, smacking sounds echoing in his ear. you’re a bit sloppy because you’re drunk but he’s drunk too — on your love, so he doesn’t mind at all.

and he doesn’t really mind how ridiculous he looks right now after catching his reflection in the rearview mirror. face full of lipstick prints, everywhere, some more defined than others, but they’re there and you look at him so proud of your work, your lipstick all smudged.

“happy?”

“mh mh, very, thank you so much.”

you give him one last peck on his lips before you sit back down in your seat, admiring the blush peeking on his cheeks and thinking of how lucky you are to kiss his pretty face everyday. 

you don’t stop there, once you’re both in the comfort of your own apartment, sitting on the bathroom counter after quinn insisted on taking your makeup off for you, you keep him between your legs so he doesn’t escape from more of your kisses.

“stop,” he lets out a breathy laugh, “the sooner i take off your makeup, the sooner we can get to bed.”

“but you’re so pretty.”

you know he’s right and you’re tired now, the remaining alcohol making you sleepy. but even after completing your night routine and lying in bed, you can’t help but wrap yourself around him like a koala, lazily pecking his back before falling asleep with a small smile on your face.

[soobnny]

we'll never have sex — changbin x reader ; established relationship & hurt/comfort (1.2k words)

there is nothing more beautiful than the promise of love even if you cannot guarantee or give that certain level of intimacy just yet

for my girls with a complicated relationship w sex & yes this is based off of leith ross’ song

Facetimes with Changbin always last longer than they should. 

Had it been anyone else, the call would’ve dropped more than an hour ago. You’d have been found guilty for finding any excuse to warrant you some silence–the slightest tinge of awkwardness, the moment conversation runs out, faking plans.

Never with Changbin.

The static of phone calls stretch on, neither of you having moved much. You can’t remember how long it’d been since either of you said something, but you’ve never minded. The quiet that came with your boyfriend had always felt comfortable. Almost safe.

In your periphery, just at the top most right of your screen, you can see him sprawled across his bed, signature hoodie to match the boyfriend look, and fingers lazily scrolling through his phone. 

“Still awake, baby?” His voice breaks the silence, teasing almost, but still gentle. 

“Mhm.” You hum, shifting in your position a little. “But ‘m a little sleepy.”

“You should go to bed.”

“No.” Changbin chuckles at your refusal, deep and raspy through the phone. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, distinguishably fond even with the poor quality of the video.

For a second, you allow yourself to just watch the boy–his glazed eyes, the softness in his features accentuated by the low light of his room, the warmth of his smile. 

Almost safe. Almost reassuring. 

You wonder if it’s all a facade, wonder when he’d finally break, wonder when he’d leave you because you refuse to let him do anything beyond a kiss. Maybe no amount of love, even from the right person like Changbin, will ever be enough to change that.

You try to scold yourself. Self-destructing thoughts are too familiar, they reverberate in your head like you’d been thinking about it for a while, like they’d been practiced and practiced until permanently tattooed. 

The tears come without warning, mid-scolding. Big and heavy and warm. They pool at the edges of your version, and it makes you feel pathetic that you hurry to press the sleeve of your hoodie against your face. 

Changbin notices immediately.

“Hey.” his voice sharpens, the playful edge he’d been sporting earlier gone in a split second. “(Name)? Baby, hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, and oh god, he’s going to leave you. He’s going to leave you because you’re such a crybaby, and anyone with a normal fucking mind wouldn’t do this to him. Anyone under normal—kinder—circumstances wouldn’t think like this. 

“Baby.” He tries again, softer this time. “Talk to me.” 

Your throat tightens around something akin to a lump. You try to swallow it down. 

“Why’re you crying? What’s wrong?” 

There’s a long pause before you finally speak.

“What if I… what if…” You start, voice barely above a whisper. You don’t know how to continue, words disjointed and dismembered. “If I said you could never touch me, would you still want to be with me?”

Changbin pauses for a fraction of a second, eyebrows drawn together in genuine confusion. But you go on, inundating him with the fears that have spent your entire life trying to catch up with you.

“I can’t give you what you want. It’s what you want, isn’t it? Would you still stay with me even if I told you that I never want to have sex?”

The boy’s expression softens immediately. He can hear his own heart break at how fragile you sound, at how shattering it is to look at your tear-streaked face through a screen, at the things that could’ve transpired for you to think that he’d ever leave you because of that, just because of something so menial to him in a relationship.

“Of course I’ll stay.” He says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “That doesn’t change anything.”

His words are meant to be comforting, the small but sure smile on his lips should’ve been enough to return your peace, but instead, the tears well up again. Heavier this time. 

“Wait. Wait, wait—hold on.” His face suddenly disappears off the screen as he fumbles with his phone. He sounds rushed. “I’m… I can’t just look at you cry and not do anything about it.”

Then the call ends.

It isn’t until fifteen minutes later when a sudden knock on your door shakes you from your self-pity do you see him again. And he’s standing there, slightly out of breath, the same hoodie you’d seen earlier half-zipped with his hair tousled from the cold wind outside. 

“Binnie.” Your voice cracks. “What are you doing here?”

Changbin doesn’t say anything at first, just allows himself to look at you—eyes tracing over the tear stains on your cheeks, and the way you’re hugging yourself with the sleeves of one of his jackets. 

Then, without a word, he slips a hand beneath your jaw, tilting your face to look you in the eyes. His palms on your skin feel warm, calloused but gentle as he cradles you in his hands. “I think…” He pauses. 

A heartbeat passes.

“I think you look lovely.” He murmurs, tone low and gentle, abating the tempestuous anxieties swelling in the pit of your stomach. “And I love you. Not because of what you think I’m expecting from you, but because I love you. The entirety of you.”

You press your face into the crook of his neck as an ugly sob escapes your throat. The tears spill over again, faster, and you feel so ridiculous for crying even more in front of him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He pulls back, leaning in to press a kiss to your wet cheeks. His voice is firm, but not unkind. Never unkind. And his eyes held no hesitation, no flicker of doubt in the way he’s looking at you right now. “Did I say anything to make you feel this way?”

Changbin tries to hide how he feels about his question, like he could never imagine being the reason why you’re sobbing like this.

“No, oh my god. Binnie, no. It’s not you.” 

“Okay, it’s not me.” His voice is still kind, relieved. “I’m never expecting anything from you, okay?”

And just as gentle as he’s holding you, he kisses you. Nothing desperate, nothing hurried even. Just slow and lingering, like he’s savoring the moment for exactly what it is. He isn’t kissing you to take you to bed, not to ask for anything more, not even to change your mind.

Changbin kisses you just to kiss you. 

Just to hopefully show you that he means everything he said to you. 

“I’ll take care of you.” His fingers thread through your hair. “I love you.”

Quietly, tiredly, you start to show a small smile. “Thank you.”

Loving you is so easy for Changbin. Like second nature. Like falling in love with your laughter, and the little parts of you that make up your sum. And you’re aware that it’s going to take time to heal yourself—that it won’t be so easy all the time, that there will be days like these again, but you also know enough that he is genuine and that he loves you with no expectations even if it’s hard to believe sometimes.

Seo Changbin loves you with every bit of conscience he was born with. He loves you simply. 

You stay like this for a while. Safe. Reassuring. Until you feel the sickness less and less.

[antianakin]

I don't really buy into the popular idea that Anakin somehow would've been saved by being asked to look after Jedi children, that it somehow would've magically taught him how to let go in a way he couldn't have learned in canon.

For one, you say that Anakin wanted someone to love him unconditionally and have their lives revolve around him. That's only partly true. Yes, he wants someone whose life revolves around him, but he specifically wants someone who will DEFINE themselves by their relationship to him. He wants someone who will do whatever he asks when he asks it of them, he wants someone whose first and only real priority is HIM, he wants someone who will give him whatever he wants whenever he wants it. This is why he likes Palpatine so much, it's why he gets upset whenever Padme tries to tell him no. You might notice, too, that this is an INCREDIBLY unhealthy dynamic to have with ANYONE and not something that should be encouraged to have.

The other issue with this is that no Jedi children are going to be taught to have their lives revolve around their creche master. The whole POINT behind the Jedi taking in younger children and toddlers rather than older kids is that it allows them to instill their values and teachings a lot earlier, BEFORE they'd learn to become too connected to one guardian (or one SET of guardians). Jedi children are unlikely to be encouraged to see their crechemaster the same way that other children see their parents. The Jedi tend to raise children COMMUNALLY, so their younglings likely have many different people raising them from the start. They're unlikely to have one person who just becomes a de facto parent for like 10-12 kids until they reach padawan age and then they just pass them off to the next person who becomes a new de facto parent. The Jedi would be taught that the whole Order are their family, that they can rely on ANYONE among the Jedi for aid and guidance and comfort. Anakin would not be handed a small group of kids that are just now "his" for like a decade or something. I don't buy that that's how Jedi would ever work (I DO buy that that could be how Mandos work, though).

So EVEN IF we go with the idea that somehow raising a child will fulfill the part of Anakin that wants someone whose life revolves around him, he won't get that from Jedi children, who are literally being taught not to let their lives revolve around one person from the moment they're given to the Order.

For two, this completely ignores that one of Anakin's biggest motivations is that he wants to be seen as a HERO, he wants fame and glory, he wants to do grand deeds like coming back to Tatooine to free all the slaves. As you might imagine, taking care of children isn't exactly going to seem like it fulfills that desire to someone like Anakin. It just isn't. THIS desire is what keeps Anakin from just LEAVING the Jedi in order to go be with Padme. If he just gets to be Padme's trophy wife, he can't go off to play the hero. He wants the fame and glory that he believes comes with being a Jedi, he wants the adoration that he thinks he can only get as a Jedi. If he didn't care about that, he'd have just left it the moment Padme agreed to be with him (or earlier, honestly). This desire is ALSO why he's peaks during the war, it's why he's so much happier and more comfortable during wartime than any other Jedi is. During the war, the Jedi are reduced to just going out and fighting "the bad guys" and protecting "the good guys." It allows Anakin to really settle into this feeling that he's being the big grand hero he's always believed he was destined for. The other Jedi tend to see this as really really far from what being a Jedi is all ABOUT, but Anakin DOESN'T because this is what he's always wanted being a Jedi to look like. This is why, when Tarkin claims the Jedi are being too soft during battles, it's Ahsoka and Obi-Wan who push back on that idea while Anakin actually agrees with it.

For three, there is NO INDICATION that Anakin never spent time around Jedi younglings ever. In fact, there's the OPPOSITE indication in canon, that Anakin already DOES spend enough time around the younglings for them to recognize him immediately and know him by name. There's thousands of Jedi, it wouldn't have been shocking if that one little youngling in the Council chambers didn't know who Anakin was when he walked in and just recognized that he was wearing Jedi clothing. But he doesn't. He addresses Anakin BY NAME. As I mentioned earlier, the Jedi appear to raise their children communally, so it would make a lot of sense that Anakin likely DID have to spend some time with the younglings every so often. Ahsoka herself is put in charge of a group of younglings going to Ilum to get their first kyber crystal when she's only 15ish years old, despite being a padawan who is assigned to a front lines battalion in the middle of a galactic civil war. You can make a REALLY easy assumption that at bare minimum, Anakin has probably had to take at least one group of younglings to Ilum by himself. But it's much more likely that he's had to do far more than that and interact with them somewhat regularly.

For four, there's actually canonical proof that handing Anakin responsibility of a child would never have saved him. Because Anakin is canonically handed responsibility of a child and it doesn't save him. Granted the child is like 14 years old when he is given responsibility of her, but it still involves having someone who looks up to him, someone whose future depends upon him, and someone he has to learn how to let go of eventually. And look what happens when she decides to walk away from the Order, look how well he reacts to that. Look at what happens to her when Padme's life is threatened and Anakin decides to throw everything away for a chance at power. Being given responsibility of a child didn't help him, it didn't save him, it didn't allow him to learn how to let go of ANYTHING.

For five, this completely ignores that the one thing that truly fucks up Anakin is proximity to Palpatine. If your argument is that Anakin should've spent MORE TIME sitting on Coruscant rather than going out in the galaxy, then this just makes him EVEN MORE vulnerable to Palpatine than he is in canon because now he's even more available. Palpatine can pop over to see him, he can ask Anakin to come talk to him and chances are pretty good that Anakin's around. The ONLY real way to "save" Anakin from going dark is to somehow completely remove Palpatine from the equation. The reason Anakin falls has NOTHING TO DO with whether he gets to take care of kids or not, it has nothing to do with how the Jedi taught him their values, or WHO taught Anakin the Jedi's values. There is nothing the Jedi could've truly changed about their culture or their approach to training Anakin that would've saved him. The assumption that they could've just moves the blame from Palpatine and Anakin to the Jedi themselves instead of recognizing the Jedi as the victims of Palpatine and Anakin's choices.

And finally, you've kind-of missed the entire argument being made in this post about Anakin. The argument isn't "Anakin would've been better off as a different kind of Jedi" but "Anakin SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN A JEDI AT ALL." Now, if we set aside the problem of Palpatine entirely, the best environment for Anakin to grow up in likely would've been one that was more akin to a traditional family structure, preferably a set of parents who didn't already have children so he didn't have to feel like he needed to compete for affection. I DO think that Anakin could've learned a lot from the Jedi if Palpatine's influence were removed, but I also think that what he learned from them would ultimately help him to recognize that he didn't WANT to be a Jedi and that this life didn't truly make him happy. I think the Jedi's way of life was already perfectly set to help him overcome a lot of his traumas from childhood and lead a healthier life, but he was never going to make a good Jedi, no matter what kind of Jedi he tried to be, because the kinds of things Anakin generally wants AREN'T the kinds of things that the Jedi lifestyle allows for.

The whole metaphor with the kudzu and the goats is that Anakin DOES NOT BELONG IN THE JEDI ORDER, and he needs to be REMOVED from that environment in order to be somewhere where he doesn't harm others just by existing. It isn't the ENVIRONMENT'S fault that Anakin doesn't fit into it, and changing the environment itself doesn't change the fact that Anakin is a harmful presence in it. The kudzu also cannot be changed to be something that DOES fit into the environment without harm, it will ALWAYS be harmful, there's nothing to introduce into the environment that magically changes the kudzu into a non-harmful non-native plant. It's always going to be invasive and harmful until it's completely removed.

Anakin Skywalker was an invasive species in the Jedi. He was introduced to the environment by Qui-Gon and the Jedi tried everything they could to co-exist with him but Anakin just didn't want to co-exist, he wanted to take over, he wanted to be the BEST. And when the Jedi couldn't give him what he wanted, he destroyed them to make room for his own selfish desires.

Luke might be a non-native species on Tatooine, but his father was a an invasive species in every environment he inhabited and a parasite in every relationship he was in, so I think Luke's doing just fine quite honestly.

[aninipanin1]

I think that Anri begs adult manager! reader to force Ego to eat an actual meal that isn’t those instant noodles

EW, VEGETABLES...?

Notes: I actually love this so much, anon lol

"Good morning, Anri-san. How may I help you today?"

You greeted your fellow female manager, figure hunched over the washing machine, scrubbing the white linen sheets from the many rooms around the facility, especially the one that legit had an oyster sauce spill, leaving a spot darkened.

Anri gave her a large smile, one that is familiar, at first before her, she reached some sort of 'Eureka' moment, and her smile turned into one of disappointment she did not think of it earlier along with a hint of mischief in it.

"Actually, can you help me with something, Y/n?"

"Oh, of course! What do I do?"

The redhaired manager motioned for her to come closer, to which she followed. Cupping her hand around your ear, Anri whispered the 'task' she wanted you to do.

As she spoke, the wider your eyes became. How will you even pull this off?

"But, Anri-san..! You know how much he loves his noodles...and how he doesn't really like me."

You always thought that Ego Jinpachi, the head and director of the Blue Lock facility, never seemed to like you. He wasn't rude to you (you think because he talked to you the way he did to everyone else), but you can definitely see that he would go out of his way to avoid talking to you, approaching you or anything related to talking with you alone without Anri, unless it was something prefessional and work-related.

He also always scolds you. You know, it was just because of the betterment of the project. But why did he have to scold you for just being around Noel Noa or any of the master strikers? They were the ones handling the improvement of the boys. Of course, you need to be around them! Well, it was one of the many things you noticed, but you digressed. After all, you know you cannot please everyone, especially in a workplace environment.

So, you were a little shocked when Anri tilted her head at you, confused about your claim.

"Ego-san...doesn't like you?"

"Um, isn't it obvious, Anri-san? He doesn't really like talking to me at all, and when you aren't there with us, he will always avoid talking to me even if I try to make casual conversations! Also, he always scolds me for the stupidest reasons! Why does he get mad when I talk to Noa-san, Snuffy-san, Prince-san, or even Lavinho-san, I will never understand! It's my job to make sure that the boys are doing well and I can only make sure of that through the master strikers!"

You did not know when you started ranting, but you did. Anri, who listened to you with open ears, could not help but chuckle on the inside. She felt quite amused and also disappointed at Ego. But, she cannot say she was not surprised. Ego was one, if not the most emotionally constipated person she had ever met. It was not a surprise that he would try to avoid you.

But, why did he have to do all those things? It wasn't helping his cause at all!

'You better thank me for what I am doing, Ego-san.'

"Ego-san! Um..."

You stood there in the office where the said man was watching the many screens, watching over the progress of the players who were all training in their own ways. In your hands was a tray filled with sautéed vegetables, a bowl of rice, and some chicken in a bowl you cooked just for the man.

Even if you think he hates you, you can not just ignore someone who is literally putting their life in danger because they don't want to eat healthy things. You aren't messed up like that!

But, you did not know how to approach this, much less him. How will you even ask him to do this, much less with the strained relationship you two had? This was a really bad idea! Why did Anri have to approach you of all people for this-

"What is it?"

He turned his swivel chair to face you, his eyes a bit lidded to show that he was not that happy for being interrupted.

"I made some extra food, and uh...I thought you may want to have it."

'That's so stupid, Y/n!'

He raised an eyebrow at this, and it did not help that the look on his face showed that he did not approve of eating the pallate on the tray.

"Y/n-chan, you know I don't eat those things."

"I know...! I just didn't want to waste it. Anri-san said she already ate so..."

Ego did not say anything, turning his swivel chair to face the screens again. Just as you were about to give up and leave the room thinking that he would not accept the food at all, he raised his arm and pointed to an empty space on the desk.

"Put it there. Don't blame me if I don't eat it and it becomes rotten."

Blinking at his words, you just nodded your head, a bit dazed that he actually considered even being near the food. You did as he told before bowing and leaving to do your other chores and duties.

Needless to say, when Anri entered Ego's office, she was shocked to see the man munching on a bowl of rice with chicken and vegetables on top. His eyes were still focused on the screen, back hunched in a weird position, but he was indeed eating.

"Did Y/n pass by here..?"

"She did. Dropped this...abomination and her paperwork."

Ego answered, pointing to the food that he called 'abomination,' yet he was still eating the food, cheeks round with food. Anri nodded, yet it was obvious she did not believe the disgusted look in his face to which he only glared at her for.

"You're the one who said it. The facility should not waste food." He pointed his chopstick at her.

"Yeah, yeah. It's totally not because you favour her, definitely not." Anri shrugged, a cheeky smile as she headed out the room once she dropped the paperwork.

'I'm surrounded by simps, haahh...' She inwardly sighed.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Anri: You like her.

Ego: No, I don't.

Also Ego: *proceeds to hoard every single thing Y/n gave him, yes, even if it was the inkless pen she passed to him to throw in the trash.*

I'm sorry if this was too short, hahaha. I didn't really know how to go deeper into this. But I hope you loved this!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine, I kept thinking about a Kamisato Ayato in a modern day AU in which him and the reader were going through a divorce because things are not going the way it was supposed to be and the marriage is just not working out anymore. When suddenly, suddenly he had an amnesia.

Imagine instead of his mistress, it was you whom he kept looking for, demanding to see upon waking up after the accident. Leaving his mistress baffled and confused just as you are upon arriving at the hospital, hoping that little shitty of a husband dead only to find him demanding and desperately looking for you in the midst of this messy and chaotic moment.

"Anata." His voice soften in contrast to his shouts earlier before you enter the room, doctors, nurses and his mistress all inside. "Anata." He called out again but you just stood there as he desperately tried to call your attention. "Anata, who are these people inside the room? What's happening?" He called out and question you, you knew he was calling you because he was looking at you, not anyone but you. Which is pretty funny because he haven't called you that for years, ever since the marriage started falling apart.

"He must have hit his head pretty hard Doc." You spoke nonchalantly, not in the mood to deal with all this bullshit. "It's been years since he called me like that. Can someone explain to me what's happening with my husband?" "Husband? Then who-?" "His mistress." You replied. "As I'm saying- asking rather, can someone explain to me what happened to this guy over here?" "... Very well, Mr. Kamisato over here is involved in a car accident and had brain concussion. As we can see..."

Imagine walking into the room, not that you want to. But upon walking into the room, you are quite surprised to find him alone in there. You were quite expected him to have his mistress with him but turns out that was not the case. "Who's that?" "Who's who?" "That person who was here earlier calling me her lover." "Oh. Well she is exactly who she said she was, she's your lover." You answered, sitting on the sofa inside the private room. Looking away and pulling your phone to check out your notifications. Because goddammit, how dare he look so hurt by those words?

"She what-? Why? Tell me you're joking." You have never seen him look so confused before. Looking back and forth to the notifications on your phone and to the man right in front of you. You sigh, causing him to flinch. "The doctor told me you can be dismissed in two days because you're still under observation. And while you're current suffering from amnesia, they said there was still a possibility of you regaining your memories so don't treat her pretty harshly. I know it could be confusing at first but you'll het over it." You explain and then stood up, "Then, I'll get going now."

Imagine glancing at him only to see him look so broken, like he was waiting, begging for someone to wake him from his dream, from his nightmare. You look away, it's not like it hurts to see him like that. It stopped hurting years ago. Nevertheless, once again you sigh. "Anata-" "I can't have children." "It doesn't matter-" "Well it does now, Ayato." You smile softly at him. "And that explains everything." You added before turning your back at him and walking towards the door. "Oh right, please sign the divorce paper. You wouldn't want your future child to be labelled illegitimate, no?"

Imagine hearing him call out- scream after you but you just kept walking without looking back. You ignore his cries and call with all your might, and walking past the corridor, "Go on, comfort him." You said as you walked pass the woman. "I'm sorry." She said, sounding like she was about to cry and you couldn't help but to smile a little, "No, I'm sorry." You replied as you continue to walk your way out of the hospital.

Imagine going inside the car, your cachuffere already waiting for you inside. And in the middle of the ride, "Want to smoke?" "Nahh" You declined as you look at the city lights. "Are you sure you wouldn't regret this?" "What are you talking about." You chuckle. "He might remember everything one day." "He won't. And even if he did, he wouldn't be able to do anything by then." You answered. "He would hate you." "Then much better." You replied.

"Is it?" "Hmm?" "For the better?" Well in comparison to the amount of suffering he has to go through cause by his elders just because he has yet to produce a heir to the clan, questioning and criticising his title as the chairman and chief of the Kamisato clan, it would be much better to get rid of his one of only flaw. His spouse that couldn't give him a heir. Closing your eyes, this is nothing, "Yeah, for the better." I'm sorry, my love.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: I'm getting a hang of this crocheshit. Ily may pasok na ko bukas yawa ayoko na pumasok. Also, this imagine escalated real quick like no sht. I was writing this for fluff but???

[deathofacupid]

⤷ in which you're the only one soft!sukuna treats this way .ᐟ

soft!sukuna who took forever to say "i love you" for the first time, and thank his ego for that.

when you'd said it for the first time, soft!sukuna couldn't do anything but let his face heat up, avoiding eye contact as if his life depended on it. of course, you knew his nature. you told him he didn't have to say it back, even though (on the inside, at least) you were hoping so much that he would. you just wanted him to know.

and god forbid, once you'd said it that first time, you couldn't stop.

soft!sukuna didn't end up saying it that day, but it didn't really matter. he showed you his love in different ways.

soft!sukuna, who shows you his said love in his own ways, remembers everything about you. the things you said once, then forgot. from your dreams in life to what you had for lunch last tuesday - if it has to do with you, the chances are, he'll remember it.

soft!sukuna who gets up earlier than you do (he doesn't enjoy sleeping in much), and on his morning walk, picks you a single flower from the estate's garden and leaves it on his bare pillow, right next to yours. soft!sukuna doesn't like it when you make such a big deal about it. you see it as you wake up, while he's showering. it's just a flower, in his view, but it makes you happy, so he'll do it for the rest of his life.

soft!sukuna who doesn't really understand human dating customs much, but he'll go along with it - well, most of the time. for example, when you first met him, you wanted to take it slow, so you went on some "test" dates. soft!sukuna was going to make you his anyways, so he thought to entertain it.

the idea of going on "dates" – pre-mating trials to assess compatibility, seemed odd to him. what he wanted, he got. there was no "testing" of anything.

you and soft!sukuna who had some communication issues at the start. he didn't get indirect communication - subtle cues, body language, or "reading between the lines" to express interest or disinterest. soft!sukuna never had a problem with saying what was on his mind, but for you, some things you didn't think really had to be said.

soft!sukuna who's the single most possessive and jealous man you've ever known. somebody looked at you the wrong way? they're a waste of space. he'll dispose of them later. or, hey, did their tone sound a little off? doesn't matter, they should've known better. maybe next time. oh, wait - there won't be a next time.

in fact, this one time, when a guy hit on you at the bar, you had to drag him out, begging and pleading him to not resort to murder.

soft!sukuna who can't bring himself to say no to you, because that pretty little pout tugs on his heart-strings. he thinks it's pathetic, how you've hexed him.

instead, all he can manage is huffy, begrudged "fine."

soft!sukuna who loves cuddles so much. he loves when you rub his back or stomach, not that he'd ever verbally say so. he may be soft for you, but there's still pride.

instead, whenever you're on the bed, he'll look at you a certain way, and you'll know what to do. he loves your touch, so soft and gentle. soft!sukuna has never had anything like it before. he doesn't know how he's lived all this time without it.

soft!sukuna who can be very blunt at times, unintentionally hurting your feelings. he doesn't mean it, he's just not used to being careful with his words. he never says sorry, but the second you get that pained expression in your eyes, mouth parted slightly, soft!sukuna is basically on his knees apologizing. it's nothing short of humiliating, to him, but he'd rather be humiliated than apart from you.

soft!sukuna who said those three words to you, for the first time, during an argument. you'd wanted him to start killing less, you couldn't bear all the lost lives of the innocent. he didn't like that very much. either way, it had escalated quickly.

but the second soft!sukuna saw those tears sliding down your cheeks, he had pulled you flush against his chest, murmuring soft apologies.

"okay, okay. don't cry. i'll do what you want. i love you."

how they slipped out so naturally, as if he weren't planning on saying it in the first place, it surprised the both of you. but when you looked at him, eyes wide with both love and shock, he decided it was the right thing.

soft!sukuna didn't regret it at all.

because both for and to you, soft!sukuna was the sweetest, most gentle man you'd ever known.

all banner credits to @anitalenia and @dollywons .ᐟ

[usercelestial]

Forever Love

General Audiences | Words: 3,753 | TW: Sexual Harassment

-

Buck misses Tommy. He always misses Tommy. He misses him when he’s in the bathroom, when he’s at work, when he’s sat across the table and their feet aren’t touching. Buck is self-aware enough to know that he has a problem. But this time, it’s serious.

He’s drunk. And Tommy isn’t here.

And they’re fighting.

He’s just a little past tipsy in a gay bar where the music is too loud and the floor is too sticky but the rainbow flags in the window give him this fuzzy feeling in his chest. It’s nice, knowing he has a community, having a sense of belonging. Having something he didn’t know he was missing, being with people who are like him. It’s queerness and tacky rainbow tank tops and seeing color for the first time and breathing in and out without the weight of something missing sitting on his chest.

“Dude, this place is great!”

Oh, Eddie’s here too.

They started the night at Eddie’s house. Buck ran to Eddie the minute he slammed the front door of his and Tommy’s new house and jumped in his Jeep.

He doesn’t remember what the fight was about, not just because the alcohol was kind of making it hard to remember details, but because it was really about nothing in particular. Or maybe it was about everything. All the little things like Tommy leaving his shoes in the doorway and Buck forgetting to load the dishwasher. One bad shift, a few small jabs, and then suddenly they were screaming at each other. And then Buck ran.

They had moved in together three weeks ago. The first two weeks were bliss, but now a heavy storm cloud has settled over their home. Buck thinks about the honeymoon phase everyone was warning him about and he aches to go back to it. He remembers when he used to think Tommy had never done anything wrong and if he had, there were perfectly reasonable explanations for it. But now he’s seeing him in more varied colors than just rose-tinted ones. And he’s realizing Tommy is having the same revelation. They're more themselves, more adult, messier and complicated. And Buck’s terrified.

But he’s also pissed.

“Can you fucking believe he yelled at me for something so petty?” Buck had said, pacing around Eddie’s living room, “It’s like he wasn’t even listening to me.”

“Well, didn’t you also yell at him?”

“Who’s side are you on?”

A small, petty part of him was smug about getting to Eddie before Tommy did. The last few fights they had, Tommy had been the one to storm out and seek solace in the Diaz home. This time, Buck ran before Tommy had the chance. He had been happy to share his side of the story and Eddie was a kind enough friend to realize Buck needed to vent his very biased account of things, nodding along and giving support where it was needed.

Then came the beers. Then the bars. Then Buck spotted those rainbow flags in the window while stumbling along the sidewalk and told Eddie that if he was a good ally, he would follow him in and let him blow off some steam.

Except now, he’s kind of running out of steam. He misses his boyfriend and the guilt of raising his voice is starting to dampen his mood. He feels regret souring on his tongue and it’s diluting all the endorphins that were released from doing shots with Drag Queens earlier in the night.

Eddie’s still going strong though. His hair is kind of messy, glitter decorating his pink cheeks, a goofy smile plastered across his face. He lost the button up he started the night with so now he’s rocking a white tank top that shows off his arms nicely. Needless to say he’s getting a lot of attention- attention that he’s either ignoring or oblivious to.

“Dude, dude, why don’t we come here more often? Why do we go to the sad bar for straight people when we could come here instead? Everyone’s so nice!” Eddie is starting to shout in his ear a little bit.

“You can just come here on your own, you know,” Buck suggests.

Eddie shakes his head, “I don’t wanna… um-” he cuts off, snapping his fingers, “intrude! I don’t wanna intrude. Do you think if I ask Josh, he’d take me? He talks about feeling weird coming to bars alone all the time! OH!” Eddie gasps, like he’s had a great idea, “Should I text Josh? He could come down here, it’d be great!”

Eddie starts to take his phone out before Buck stops him, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Eds.”

Eddie waves him off before the song changes and suddenly he’s disappearing back into the crowd of swaying bodies. Buck should probably try to keep an eye on him but he’s busy silently mourning the quiet night in with his boyfriend he was going to have. Then he starts to mourn the night he wanted to spend distracting himself from his own grievances with said boyfriend, trying to drown out the voice telling him how badly he fucked things up. Now, he’s playing babysitter to giddy-drunk Eddie.

“Don’t you look lonely.” Suddenly there’s a body pushing against his side and alcohol-ridden breath wafting over his ear.

He reels back, cringing at the close proximity. He huffs and takes another sip of his beer.

“Oh, what, you’re gonna give me the cold shoulder?” The guy moves closer again. “Come on, what’s got you so down?”

He ignores him again, trying to turn his body away. The guy slides a hand against his side and fingers the hem of his shirt. Buck shoves him off.

“Fuck off,” Buck growls, and then for good measure, “I’ve got a boyfriend.” Who he misses. God, he wishes Tommy was here.

“Well, I don’t see him anywhere. Must not be a very good boyfriend, then.”

Buck starts to get defensive, opening his mouth to speak, before the words jumble in his throat. It’s a little hard to think coherently, but what comes to mind are images of Tommy making him dinner after a long shift, scrubbing his hands through his soapy hair in the shower, kissing his birthmark before bed every night. He’s not sure how to articulate it, all the feelings rising in his throat at the claim that Tommy isn’t a good boyfriend, a good partner, a good person.

“Buck! Buck, listen, man, you gotta try this drink- oh, who’s this?”

The guy scoffs as Eddie suddenly reappears from God knows where, “Really? This guy?” He points at Eddie.

Eddie looks behind him wildly, “Who?”

Buck thinks briefly about drowning himself in one of the bar toilets. Then decides he’d be getting out of this too easy, and this is probably karma for ruining the great thing he had going with Tommy.

“So you’re his boyfriend?” The guy is now directly talking to Eddie.

There are several looks that pass over Eddie’s face. He looks like he’s solving a puzzle for a second then there’s a little twinkle in his eye and then he straightens his back with determination and pride, “Yep!”

Buck chokes on his own spit, “What?”

“Hey, I’m Tommy, Buck- no, Evan’s boyfriend.” He looks immensely proud of himself, “So, bye. He’s taken. By me, Tommy, I’m a great pilot and subpar at Muay Thai. So leave us alone.”

The guy apparently has decided to double down on being an ass, though, “Really, you could do so much better.” He’s turned back to Buck now. “Why would you ever choose to be with a guy who can’t hold his beer and makes an idiot of himself in public?”

“He’s not an idiot!” Buck throws his hands in the air. He’s not sure if he’s defending Tommy or Eddie here, but they’re kind of blurring into one person right now.

“What do you have going for you anyways, bro? I’m a pilot!” Eddie decides to puff his chest out a little now, shoving his hands in his front pockets. Buck realizes he’s trying to mimic Tommy’s mannerisms, much to his own horror. Now is probably not a good time to mention that this guy doesn’t actually know what Tommy looks like, therefore he doesn’t actually need to pretend to be Tommy. But his heart clenches at how hard Eddie’s trying anyways. “A firefighter-pilot!” Eddie continues, “Those are like two of the hottest professions you can have. I also do Muay Thai, although not as good as my amazing friend, Eddie, but still very good.”

“Wow, self-obsessed much?” The guy tries to touch Buck’s arm, “Come on, don’t you wanna ditch him? Do you really think this guy is gonna give you what you need?”

“What do you know about what he needs? I’ll have you know that we live together, actually!” Eddie is starting to shout again, “It’s going great. Or well, it is, isn’t it?” He turns to Buck.

“What?”

“It is going great, right? Like we’re still happy, aren’t we?”

Buck thinks of Tommy at home right now, sitting on the sofa in his stupid, sexy reading glasses. He’s probably still fuming from the fight. Buck pictures him biting his nails, a habit he’s tried to kick. He whines a little in the back of his throat at the thought of being his point of stress. His bones ache to curl up in bed, head tucked into Tommy’s shoulder, feeling Tommy’s arm gently graze over his spine. He thinks about moving around the kitchen with him, seamlessly in tune with his every move. He thinks about coming up behind him and pulling Tommy back’s flush against his chest and kissing his hairline.

“Yeah, of course, we’re still happy.”

“Do you really have to ask?” The guy asks smugly, quirking an eyebrow.

Eddie’s still looking at him though, eyes searching, “I worry about that sometimes, you know? Like,” he breathes and makes a decision, “sometimes I’ll talk to our friend, Eddie. And I’ll tell him how much I love you, but how scared I am that I don’t make you happy enough. And it doesn’t matter how many times I-or Eddie tells me that you’re the happiest you’ve ever been, I’m scared you’re gonna wake up and realize there’s something else out there for you. At least, that’s what I tell Eddie. And I swore him to secrecy too, I made him promise not to mention that to you because I don't want you to think I’m a burden or anything. And because Eddie is such a good friend, he promised he wouldn’t say anything but I think now Eddie is getting tired of watching us both think the other one could do better. That’s how Eddie feels. Cause we’re both great, you know. Best friends he’s ever had.”

“Is that how uh- you really feel?” Buck asks, “You think I’m gonna find something better?”

Eddie nods, lips pursed, “Well, it's not like- I don't think you're gonna just walk out with some fuck-face you meet at a bar,” he gestures to the guy still standing there confused, “but I think I’m more worried you’re going to realize I’m not what you want. That it's too hard, I guess. And we've been fighting more and more recently and it's really getting to me, man.”

“I just feel like you keep shutting me out, though. It's not the little things that get to me, it's the fact that every time I try to talk to you about it, you just shut down.”

“Okay, I get that. But I think if I had to say why I do that, it's because I’m scared that if we really start to talk about it, you’ll come to the conclusion that you won't want to put up with me.”

“Tommy, I’m trying to build a life together, I’m in this, all the way. And don't you think I’m scared, too? It's like you’re not listening to what I’m telling you.”

“You talk about how you don't feel listened to, but it’s never really clear what you’re saying,” Eddie throws his hands up and clears his throat awkwardly, “I think.”

Buck stops to consider that. He’s tried to tell Tommy how he feels, how scared he is he’s gonna fuck it up. He still feels like he’s a guest in Tommy’s home, not because of anything Tommy’s done per say. He thinks maybe he’s still trying to walk on eggshells, not make too many waves. So he beats around the bush. He points out Tommy’s shoes in the doorway when he’s made a point to put his own in the closet, clearing his throat when he picks them up and puts them away. Tommy glances at him and hums, looking away.

It always made Buck feel like Tommy’s just tolerating him- putting up with his “clipboard” tendencies.

“Okay, I guess you have a point. I’m not actually that mad that you leave your shoes wherever you take them off, or how you leave dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, or that you always make the bed too tight. Like, I don't care about those things. I just- fuck, I don't know. It feels like it's still your house, and I’m still living out of a few drawers and an overnight bag.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, “Do I make you feel that way?”

Buck sighs, “Not on purpose, I don't think. I think it's just a lot of other bad experiences with living with people I’ve dated and yeah, maybe, it feels like you keep erasing the mark I’m trying to leave. I keep trying to get you to put your shoes in the closet, and you just won't.”

“I thought you said you weren't really mad about that.” Eddie seems like he’s having a hard time following their relationship lore.

“It's not that. It's more that all of the little things I’m trying to do to make it feel like ours, you’re just not having.”

“Have you ever told me that? Like in those words? Cause from where I’m standing, I think I’m just trying to give you your space and stay close to mine.”

“I don't just want my space and then your space, I want our space. I want to have things we do together, systems we can agree on. Not just because it annoys me when you don't follow my rules, Tommy. I don't want you to feel trapped with me.”

“Well, I don't want you to feel suffocated. That's what I told Eddie.”

Buck breathes in a small sob. He’s always been an emotional drunk.

“I love you, all of you. Even your messiness. I just want to feel like you're in this too. I’ve had a lot of shitty relationships where I'm the only one putting anything into it. And you’ve always felt different. Like I could actually get attached to you. And it feels like you're pulling back.” Buck sinks in on himself, heart breaking at the idea that Tommy’s falling farther away.

Eddie looks pained, but enlightened, “I think I’m pulling back because I don't want to pressure you. I think I’m really, really into you, dude. And it's scary to put so much of yourself on the line. I think I’m afraid I was putting too much of myself into this, and you're gonna get exhausted.”

“Exhausted with what?”

“With how much I love you. With how amazing I think you are. With how I think I’ve decided I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” Eddie finishes.

“Okay, what the fuck does all that mean?” The guy is still just standing beside them.

“Bro, go away.”

“Like why are you even still here?”

The guy walks away, muttering something about them being exhausting and a waste of his time.

“He’s said all to you?” Buck ducks his head, not wanting to look Eddie in the eye.

“Some of it, yeah,” Eddie nods, wrinkling his forehead, “The feeling like you're too much of a good thing, wanting to spend the rest of his life with you, generally feeling like shit whenever you fight, yeah, we talked about all that.” He hiccups, “Some of it I improvised. I know both of you pretty well by now, and I’m tired of constantly going back and forth between you whenever you fight. Especially when you're saying the same thing. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

Buck waits for him to elaborate. Eddie rolls his eyes. “You guys are committed. It's just that you're both being really, really stupid about it. And living with another person is hard, especially when you’re trying so hard to keep so much of yourself in. You’ve got to open up a little, man. And so does he, but I think the first thing you gotta do is talk.”

“Hm. I should probably go home.” His head is starting to hurt and he feels like throwing up or passing out or crying, and he doesn't want to do any of those things outside of the comfort of his own home.

His and Tommy’s own home.

Eddie's eyes light up again and Buck had the exact same thought at the exact same time, “Uber!”

Eddie falls dead asleep on the ride to Buck and Tommy’s house. When they arrive, Buck profusely apologizes to the Uber driver for all the snoring and retching.

Eddie leans against his shoulder as they walk up to the door. Buck notices a wreath that wasn't there before and remembers talking about decorating the house for the holidays early. Tommy hadn't been completely sold on the idea at the time but there it was, displayed on their front door. It felt like a peace offering in of itself.

He fumbled with his key and accidently locked the already unlocked door, which Eddie laughed at for the full minute it took him to realize and then unlock the door again.

“Shhh. He’s probably asleep.”

“Evan?”

“Oh shit.” Then Eddie falls on the floor somehow. Buck isn’t really paying attention to whatever Eddie’s issues with gravity are. The moment he sees Tommy standing in the hallway in his sleeveless red top and sweats, he bolts and throws his arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry.” Buck mumbles into his neck.

Tommy sighs and hugs back, “I know, baby. I’m sorry, too.”

Eddie stands back up, celebrates quietly to himself for a second, and then redirects his attention to Buck and Tommy, “Hey, Tommy.” He waves politely.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“I don’t wanna be Buck’s boyfriend anymore. You can have him back. You’re both so complicated. Josh wouldn’t be so complicated.” Eddie starts mumbling to himself, swaying back and forth on his feet while fiddling with the leaves on the plant they have in their entrance.

Tommy seems to take a second process of what he just said and is doing mental gymnastics to decipher it, “What?”

“There was this guy, right? And he was kind of an asshole about it. So I pretended to be you, so he would leave Buck alone.”

Buck feels Tommy’s chest rise with jealousy, “A guy was messing with you?” Buck is man enough to admit that the heat in his voice does something for him.

“Mostly just being annoying.” Buck shrugs, arms still tied around Tommy’s neck.

“Hey, don’t worry. I defended his honor.” Eddie pounds a fist to his chest and then stumbles over to the couch.

Tommy worms his way out of Buck’s grip so he can close and lock the door and then turns back, “So, we’re good, then?”

Buck smiles, shoulder’s rising to his ears, laughing a little. He’s back to feeling giddy, a rush of love flooding through his chest, “Yeah, we’re gonna be great, Tommy, I promise.”

Tommy smiles and gravitates back to him, slipping an arm around his waist and kissing his collar bone.

“No funny business while I’m still here.” Eddie turns over on his side, tugging the throw blanket off the back of the couch.

“We gotta talk, though.” Buck traces a finger down Tommy’s chin, parking it in the little divot that used to taunt him. He has a cleft, Buck giggles again.

“About what?” Tommy goes still. His arm freezes up and the soft, gooey feeling in Buck’s chest gets a little chillier.

“I know about your annoying habits and you know about mine. We need to talk about ‘em to move past ‘em”

“And what if when we talk about it, we can’t find a way to move past it.” Tommy says quietly. For a second, Buck feels like he’s looking at himself. The facade of confidence cracks and suddenly there’s a lonely boy in a cold, empty house that starts to leak through. Buck’s chest hurts thinking about little Tommy. He was lonely and afraid. Buck remembers that feeling like a ghost whispering up his spine and he hates it. He hates that he ever thought this wasn’t something he could have. He hates that Tommy thought he’d be lonely and afraid forever. He hates that they both did.

He hates that Tommy feels like that right, standing in their home, in each other’s arms, where it should be safe from old wounds and lingering ghosts.

“Hey,” Buck’s finger on Tommy’s chin tightens and he brings his thumb up to force eye contact, “Don’t do that, please.”

Tommy shudders.

“Tommy, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with you and you,” Buck grabs Tommy’s face with both hands, “Tommy, you are my forever love, okay? Your bad habits are not going to get in the way of that. You’re not getting rid of me any time soon.”

“Forever love, huh?” Tommy muses.

“If you let me, I wanna be your forever,” Buck places his index finger on Tommy’s lip, swiping. He wants to reach forward and never let go.

“Gladly,” Tommy leans over to bridge the gap, connecting their lips. They kiss for what feels like an eternity, with Eddie's snores as background music. Tommy slides an arm around Buck's waist and gently guides him to their bed.

Tommy kisses his birthmark and covers him with their warm cotton sheets they had picked out together. The bed is still too tight but he’ll tell him in the morning. They’ll talk, fight a little more, cry, and make up. They’ll fight for it, even when things get hard.

They fall asleep wrapped gently in love. Forever love.

[missarchive]

Can i have a request bimbo!reader x dom!spencer when he suddenly punishing her but she had no idea why. Apparently it's because Spencer was jealous or maybe because the way she dressed? (It's up to you) thxxx

ive never written for bimbo!reader before, i hope this is okay <3

cw; +18 minors dni, dom!spencer, spanking, reader calls spencer "sir", slightly rough spencer

You twirled in front of the mirror, admiring the way your new dress hugged your curves. The blush-pink fabric was tight, short, and paired perfectly with the platform heels you’d been dying to wear. It was flirty, playful, and just the right amount of daring.

Spencer was already waiting in the living room, his patience something you knew you tested regularly. But you couldn’t help spending a little more time ensuring every detail was perfect, smoothing down the fabric and fluffing your hair one last time before stepping out.

When you entered the room, Spencer looked up from the book he’d been reading. His gaze swept over you, starting at your heels and slowly working his way up. You’d expected a compliment or even one of his adorably shy stares. Instead, his jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You're wearing that out?" His tone was calm, but there was a clipped edge to it that immediately put you on alert.

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Well, yeah,” you said with a little giggle, giving him a playful spin. “Isn’t it cute? I wanted to look good for you.”

Spencer set his book down slowly, deliberately. The soft thud of it hitting the coffee table was louder than it should have been. He stood, his towering frame suddenly feeling a lot more imposing.

“It’s not about whether it’s cute,” he said, his voice lower now, almost dangerous. “Do you have any idea what you were doing earlier?”

You tilted your head in confusion, his reaction so far removed from what you’d expected that you weren’t sure how to respond. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.”

He stepped closer, and the shift in his presence made your pulse quicken. “Oh, you didn’t do anything?” he echoed, his tone sharp and laced with sarcasm. “The way you bent over at the bar when you ‘dropped’ your napkin? Or how you let that guy put his hand on your waist while you giggled at everything he said? You think I didn’t notice?”

Your lips parted in shock, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “Spence, I wasn’t—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through your words like a blade. “Whether you meant to or not, you were acting like a little tease. And now, I think it’s time you learned a lesson about who you belong to.”

Your stomach flipped at the possessiveness in his voice, and your heart began to race. “But Spence,” you tried again, your voice soft and unsure, “I didn’t mean to upset you—”

He didn’t let you finish. “That’s enough,” he said firmly, his hand wrapping around your wrist as he guided you toward the bedroom. His touch wasn’t rough, but the intent behind it was clear. “If you didn’t know what you were doing, then it’s my job to remind you of the rules.”

Your legs felt like jelly as he brought you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click that seemed to echo in the silence. Spencer let go of your wrist, turning to face you fully. His eyes raked over you, taking in every detail of your appearance—the dress, the heels, the way you fidgeted nervously under his gaze.

“Take it off,” he ordered, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated, your hands hovering near the zipper of your dress. “Spencer, I didn’t mean to—”

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated, each word punctuated with a quiet intensity that made your breath hitch.

Your fingers fumbled with the zipper as you slid the dress down, the fabric pooling at your feet. You felt completely exposed, standing there in just your lacy lingerie and heels, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone softer now but no less commanding. He stepped closer, his fingers lightly grazing your jaw as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

Spencer’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, patting his thigh. “Over my lap,” he instructed.

You hesitated for only a moment before obeying, draping yourself over his lap. The position made you acutely aware of every shift in his body, the warmth of his hands as they rested lightly on the curve of your ass.

“You’re going to count for me,” he said, his voice steady. “And if you lose track, we start over. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The first swat landed, sharp but not too hard, sending a jolt through you.

“One,” you said shakily.

The next came a little harder, and you bit your lip. “Two.”

Spencer didn’t rush, each strike measured and purposeful, alternating between firm and teasing. By the time you reached five, your skin was warm, and your head was spinning.

“Tell me why I’m punishing you,” Spencer said, his hand resting on your now-sensitive skin.

“Because… because I forgot the rules,” you said, your voice trembling.

“And who do you belong to?” he asked, leaning down so that his breath brushed against your ear.

“You,” you whispered, your voice filled with equal parts surrender and devotion. “I belong to you.”

Spencer’s hand caressed your skin, soothing the heat he’d created. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now, let’s make sure you don’t forget that again.”

And as he continued your lesson, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of security, knowing that you were his in every way that mattered.

[mioakem]

If you’re able would you be down to summarize some of the notable bits of the stream? Don’t wanna give Dream’s stream more views :P and I also don’t have twitter

(If not the vibe then no worries! Thank u for all ur service in the mcyt drama wars 🙏)

ofc i can!

so basically hes just going through tubbos stream from earlier and nitpicking it

he starts by talking about how tommy used to joke about dream being a pedo (when he was 16 btw) and shows a super long text he sent to tommy saying how he doesn’t like it and doesn’t think it’s nice to do that.

then he talks about the qsmp/usmp thing. he said that tommy really wanted to join the usmp and apparently said “fuck quackity” (has no evidence of that) and then says how he stopped being friends with tommy when he dropped the “if youtubers were honest” video. he goes on a whole rant saying how tommy is fake and how he’s lying to everyone and then he starts shit talking tommy’s mom cause she was defending tommy on twitter. he shows the huge dm he sent to sarah (which was basically just saying that he’s upset that she’s active on twitter and defending her son). he says some more things about tommy, saying that he’s “on his knees” for quackity and also said that he wouldn’t be doing this if w*lbur was in dreams place

he then goes into the logan paul situation and, as expected, shit talks tommy for being friendly with him when he was 16. he starts saying that tommy just likes to start drama to get attention.

finally he gets into the mizkif situation and again says that tommy is just trying to start drama. Then he goes on a whole politics rant about xqc or whatever the fuck his name is and saying that his opinions on trump dont matter cause he’s canadian? he then says that his own opinions on trump don’t matter and that he doesn’t talk about politics cause he’s not a politics streamer. then he addresses the r slur and to summarize it he basically just said “how come nicholas cantu can say a slur but not me”. he gets super mad when that jack and harry found the nicholas cantù thing funny purely because they don’t like dream.

he also talks about the philza tweet and says that he never ever took credit for other people’s success while in the same breath saying that he shined a spotlight on creators during the dream smp. he also says that he gained absolutely nothing from the dsmp and that ���1% of his subs are from dsmp”

he starts going off about aimsey and says that he thought that she was the one who set off the whole caitibugs in an attempt to cancel dream and george (she didn’t caiti was literally speaking out abt george groping her and dream covered it up)

that’s about it after that it’s basically just a long coke rant about practically nothing, i’ll def update if anything else happens in the stream but rn he’s just going insane lol

[pinkslipxox]

First Time:

Summary: part 2 of Not Ready Yet

Warnings: fluff, smut 💋😘

@ijustlovemaths tagged as promised 🤗

——————————————————————————

A smile spreads on your lips as a pair of arms wrap around your waist. Billie rests her chin on your shoulder, her ocean blue eyes meeting yours in the mirror, as she gently sways the two of you side to side. She then kisses your cheek, letting it linger there for a moment, before gently turning your head so that you are looking at her.

“You’re so beautiful,” Billie murmurs lovingly as she connects her lips with yours, softly, gently. “Inside and out.”

“Thank you, baby. But that’s all you,” you hum in response, giggling as Billie starts to pepper your face in kisses.

“I’m ready to go when you are, angel,” she says softly and you nod.

“I’m ready to go,” you confirm, making Billie smile again.

Like the gentleman she is, Billies opens your door for you as you get into the car. As the car begins to move, you cant help but admire how calm and laidback she looks as she drives expertly through the busy streets of Los Angeles.

“Staring at me again, aren’t you, sweetheart?” your girlfriend teases as she takes a quick glance at you before drawing her attention back to the road, a smirk curled on her lips.

“I’m sorry,” you squeak and Billie chuckles.

“Don’t be sorry. I think it’s cute,” she smiles sweetly at you and you can’t help but smile back.

You can’t help it, especially with the way that Billie looks right now. Her long, raven hair falling loosely over her shoulders, a bandana on her head and a backwards cap, an oversized t-shirt, and baggy jeans hanging low on her waist, exposing the waistband of her boxers. She always looks amazing, of course, but today there’s something about her today that just makes it hard for you not to look at her. Especially since because… a lot has been on your mind recently.

Thoughts that involve you. And Billie. In a more… intimate way, to be specific. The memory of you and Billie caught up in such a passionate moment weeks before is fresh in your mind as if it happened just yesterday. You love Billie more than anything, and you can’t think of a better way to show her just how much you love her. She had told you that she would wait forever for you if she had to, but tonight you are determined to show her the love and adoration you feel for her, and not just in words.

“You okay, Y/N?” Billie’s voice makes your thoughts disappear in a cloud of smoke, an edge of worry evident in her tone.

“Yes, sorry,” you say quickly with a small reassuring smile.

As Billie nods slowly, you slide your hand into hers, squeezing it gently, and she returns the tender gesture. Before you know it, Billie parks on front of the restaurant. You ignore the warm shiver that goes down your spine when you feel her hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the restaurant. This isn’t the first time she’s done this, why is it giving you such a deeper, more longing effect now?

Dinner is a pleasant affair. Yet as you engage in laughter and conversation with Billie, your earlier thoughts from the evening lingers in the back of your mind. As you and Billie get into the car again, you make your decision— you are going to make love to Billie.

Tonight.

“Are you alright, baby?” Billie murmurs, her voice soft and warm as you are cuddled to her side in your shared bedroom, and you hum in response as you feel your heart beat against your chest as you gather the words and thoughts to voice what you want.

“Im just… thinking,” you begin, sitting up to look at your girlfriend, and Billie sits up as well. With an encouraging nod from Billie, you continue, “Ive been thinking about us. A lot. And… I think I’m ready, Billie.”

“You’re ready?” Billie echoes, confusion flickering in her ocean blue eyed momentarily before realization hits her on what you mean. “Oh! You mean, ‘you’re ready’…” She then locks eyes with you, her gaze tender and full of warmth. “Are you sure, Y/N?”

You nod eagerly. “Yes, of course. I’ve never been more sure of anything, Billie. I want this— for you, for me, for the both of us.”

“Oh, Y/N…” Billie cups your face, her touch warm and gentle. “My Y/N… I’d love to, believe me I would, but I want toy to be one hundred percent sure.”

“I am,” you confirm, your voice firm yet gentle. “Please, Billie. Please. I’m ready for this, ready for you.”

After a beat of silence, Billie nods her head, saying, “Okay, baby. If that’s what you want, and if you’re comfortable… let’s do it.”

“Thank you, Billie,” you murmur, excitement and anticipation stirring inside you as brush your lips against Billie’s. With a soft chuckle, Billie draws you closer, her arm wrapped tightly around your waist and her hand lightly gripping your chin as she returns the kiss with just as much affection.

“How about we just kiss for now? And then go from there,” Billie suggests, her voice low and soft, and you nod.

Ever so gently, Billie deepens the kiss, and you feel all the love and care she has for you in the powerful yet meaningful gesture. Soft moans and gasps escape your lips as the kiss becomes more passionate, sending a warmth throughout your body, and you tilt your head back to grant Billie more access to your neck when she starts to pepper kisses to your soft flesh. In swift, deliberate motions, you find yourself and Billie tangled in the sheets as articles of clothing are gently discarded from each of your bodies. Your heart swells at how gentle Billie’s touch is as her fingers trace your curves, making goosebumps form on your soft skin, and you hear her chuckle softly.

“Is this okay so far, mama?” Billie asks sweetly, her voice like honey, and you wordlessly nod, not trusting your voice to convey your feelings. While you’re still a bit nervous, you feel good.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur softly, and Billie smiles, her face mere inches away from yours.

“That’s all you, Y/N,” Billie hums as she brushes her lips against your yours. She then gently tugs at your bra strap. “Can I take this off?”

You bite your lip. “Can… I take yours off first?”

“Yes, of course,” Billie replies with a soft smile. Her hands gently guides yours to the clasp of her bra. You inwardly inhale before unclasping the bra, letting it fall gently onto the bed. The sight of Billie’s breasts, full and plump, makes your breath hitch. They’re perfect, just like she is, and all of the sudden you feel your mouth water with desire and curiosity.

“Can I touch them?” you ask shyly and Billie hums reassuringly.

“Of course you can, doll,” she replies, her voice smooth and rich as velvet. Billie takes your hand in hers, brings it to her mouth and kisses it before she guides it to her breast, the sudden contact eliciting a draw of breath from the both of you.

You take your time, fingers tracing the curve of her breast, marveling at how smooth her skin is. Every gentle caress forms goosebumps on Billie’s skin, her rosy nipples hardening, and you follow the sudden instinct that entices you to wrap your lips around the sensitive bud. She’s warm and soft inside your mouth, just like you thought she’d be.

“I— Y/N… Oh, my God…” Billie sighs blissfully, giving you the encourage you need to continue. Boldness is what makes you take more of her into your mouth, your tongue swiping over her nipple, savoring the taste of her, the sensation of being so close in one of the many intimate ways you’re hoping to connect with Billie tonight.

Slowly, Billie lays back on the bed, and you are just as entranced as Billie is if not more as you continue your gentle ministrations. Your name is moaned, sending a wave of pride and warmth throughout your body. It’s sweet music to your ears, her voice sultry and light. Her hand cradles the back of your head tenderly, fingers gently twisting and pulling at your hair, and it makes you groan at the sensation.

“Y/N… Baby girl, w-wait a second,” your girlfriend manages to say between moans and you immediately stop. You pull away, worry replacing your confidence in an instant.

“I’m sorry, Billie. Did I do something wrong?” you say, your voice no louder than a whisper. Then, much to your relief, Billie sits up and smiles, shaking her head. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and she seems to glow in the soft lighting.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” she purrs, clasping her hand with yours. “It just didn’t seem fair to me that I was getting the pleasure. This is about you, us.”

You bite your lower lip, her words making your heart flutter. “You’re saying… you want to pleasure me, too?” you say quietly and Billie chuckles softly.

“More than anything,” Billie hums, her gaze intense yet utterly tender. She grips your chin lightly and kisses your forehead. “Lay down, baby.”

With a soft nod, you obey Billie, reminding yourself to breathe as a new wave of excitement and anticipation flows through your veins. Billie’s lips press onto yours into a sweet yet passionate kiss. Your girlfriend hovers over you, the kiss deepening as soft sighs and moans echo inside the room. Somehow, in the midst of it all, your bra is removed yet you don’t feel as nervous as you did a few moments again. Instead, under Billie’s tender, adoring gaze, you feel empowered. But most importantly, safe.

At your approval, Billie reciprocates the same heavenly treatment you have just given to her, her touch making you arch your body against her. Your eyes flutter closed as you let the sensations consume you, reveling in the swift movements of her tongue and gentle pinches to your nipples from her fingers that make you moan in delight. She takes her sweet time, giving both of your breasts equal attention, making you beg her for more.

“Billie, please…” you half-whine, half-beg, although you aren’t sure what exactly you’re begging her for, but the words slip out of your mouth as if you are chanting a prayer.

“Please what, my love?” Billie coos as she gently takes your nipple between her teeth, biting down enough for a ripple of pleasure to make you squirm under her touch. It travels right to your core, and all of the sudden you want nothing more than for Billie to be between your legs.

“Do something,” you whimper, hoping she understands what you mean. “Touch me… kiss me… there.”

Billie smirks, obviously pleased with your words. “That’s my girl. Spreads your legs for me, pretty girl.”

God, those words sound so wrong yet so right, and even more so coming from Billie’s mouth. You oblige, spreading your legs wide, and a gasp gets caught in your throat as Billie’s mouth places hot, open-mouthed kisses along your thighs. She whispers sweet nothings as her teeth graze your soft skin, nipping gently, and your pussy throbs with desire. Billie stood briefly to ask your permission to slip your panties off, which you immediately grant, and without a second thought, Billie leans in.

A cry of pleasure bounces off the walls as Billie’s tongue, warm and teasing, swirls along your skin, pressing down ever so often on your clit. Instinctively, you start to move your hips to the rhythm of Billie’s, yet you’re hold firmly in place by your girlfriend as she continues to explore your pussy. You’re clenching the bedsheets, each caress, each lick making you spiral further and further into a blissful state. Never have you ever anticipated this level of sheer pleasure, devotion, of that of Billie’s tongue soothing an ache you’ve never realized you had.

“Billie! I can’t—I—oh!” you cry out, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of sensation that has you tipping over the edge. “I’m so c-close! I’m going to…”

And that’s it for you. Your back arches off the bed, legs shaking, eyes rolled back as the orgasm consumes you. For a moment, it feels like your soul as left your body. And you love it.

“You good, babe?” Billie checks in on you, and you nod, breathless, and she chuckles softly. She’s gentle as she closes your legs, and you whimper at how wet you feel.

“Please… I want more, Billie,” you half-whimper, half-demand and Billie arches her eyebrow playfully.

“Think you can handle it?” Billie teases, giving your nipple a light punch, and you let out a mixture between a yelp and a moan.

“Yes, yes, I can.” You don’t care how desperate you sound. You want more, you need more of Billie.

With that, Billie leans in and captured your lips in a sweet kiss. You feel her lips curl into a smirk, and you can’t help but moan at the taste of the lingering sweetness on her mouth. Then, she pulls back, her gaze softening.

“You know we can always stop if you ever need us to, right?” Billie says, her voice warm and reassuring. She kisses the tip of your nose, and it makes you giggle. “I don’t want you to feel like we have to do everything tonight.”

Your heart swells at how sweet Billie. She’s always made sure that you’re taken care of, and this moment is no different. God, you love her so much.

“Please, Billie. I want to feel everything with you. I want you, all of you,” you murmur, brushing the tip of your nose lovingly with hers, and Billie scrunches her face in the most adorable way that makes her eyes crinkle.

“Alright, baby,” she replies and steals another kiss. Then, with a smirk, she asks, “Scissor or strap?”

Both options sound incredible. Yet you remind yourself that this is your first time. You’ll have plenty of time to experiment with Billie afterwards.

“Strap,” you finally decide and Billie nods. You watch as Billie retrieves the strap from its place beside the bed and gently secures it around her waist, taking a deep breath. For a moment, you can’t help but draw in a breath as you take in the sight of it. It’s… bigger than you expected.

“Are you sure you’re ready, babe?” Billie asks softly, her voice a soothing balm as she adjusts the strap around her waist.

You nod, your heart racing but filled with trust. “Yeah, I’m ready, Billie. I trust you,” you reply, your voice a mix of anticipation and excitement.

“Okay,” Billie says with a warm smile. “Let’s take it slow. You can be in charge. Remember we can stop at anytime.” She gently guides you so that you are straddling her lap, positioning you in a way that felt safe and inviting. The intimacy between them the two of you is palpable, and Billie’s hands find their way to your waist, grounding you as she settles in.

You take a deep breath, feeling both the weight of the moment and the lightness of Billie’s support, letting yourself sink onto the strap. Billie whispers sweet nothings and reassurances as you adjust to the foreign feeling of being so full. Slowly yet deliberately, you start to move, waves of pleasure soon pooling within your core. The sensations courses through you, and you could feel yourself getting lost in the rhythm.

“Oh, Billie,” you gasp, voice breathy and full of wonder. You grip the headboard for support, feeling a surge of confidence with each movement, your body responding to the sensations in a way that surprises yet thrills you.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good,” Billie praises, her voice soft and sweet. “I love seeing you like this.” Billie’s words wrap around you like a warm hug, pushing you further into the moment.

“I never knew it could feel this good,” you breathe, the euphoric warmth too good to be true. You feel the connection between you and Billie deepen, the love making you feel grounded and hazed all at once.

“Just like that, mama,” Billie encourages, her voice dripping with affection and desire. Your breath quickens as you move in a more steady rhythm, your bodies creating an intimate friction that built the intensity between you two to a feverish heat.

“Oh my god, Billie, yes!” you gasp, feeling the pleasure swell within you. “Don’t stop! Please!” Your voice is urgent and eager, ignited by the delightful sensations swirling inside you.

With every movement, Billie becomes more assertive, guiding you with a fierce yet tender touch. Her muscular arms encircle you, holding you close while maintaining a gentle control that makes you feel so cherished, so valued.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Billie whispers, her breath hot against your ear. “I could lose myself in you.”

Your heart begins to race at the feeling of the depths of Billie’s passion. The world around you begins to fade into nothingness, loosing yourself in a whirlwind of enthusiasm and fiery connection.

“Billie…” you moan, lost in pure ecstasy with each thrust that stirs the beautiful chaos within you. “I love this so much. I love you.”

“I love you, Y/N. So. Damn. Much,” Billie nearly growls, her voice thick with emotion as she presses her forehead against yours, breathing in sync with you, completely lost in each other.

Billie’s attentiveness only heightens your pleasure. With every thrust, every gentle caress, you feel Billie’s tattooed fingers explore your soft skin with reverence, making it clear to you how much she treasures you and this moment.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you beg, your voice a breathy whisper. Billie plants kisses along your collarbone, nipping the skin, before soothing the sting with her tongue. You toss your head back, overwhelmed yet deeply moved by the connection and intimacy of this sacred moment.

“Never,” Billie promises, her eyes darkening with desire, and it makes you fall in love with her all over again. Every kiss, every touch is a testament to her love for you—a language spoken through intimacy and longing.

Eventually, you and Billie are entangled in a beautiful aftermath, your bodies slick with sweat, breaths mingling in the warm air. You’ve never felt so loved, so cherished, so alive. Billie presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, her arms wrapping you protectively. She pulls the duvet over the two of you, and you snuggle deeper onto her chest.

“I love you, Y/N,” Billie murmurs, her voice soft and dripping with affection, the passionate edges of the night fading away.

“I love you, too, Billie,” you hum, content. “Thank you for this.”

Billie chuckles softly. “Thank you for trusting me, mama.”

In the afterglow, you can’t help but feel a profound sense of safety in Billie’s embrace. You’re incredibly grateful for the trust and affection that binds you and Billie together, an unbreakable bond forged with love and respect. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

[pandapetals]

Girl Dad

Logan realizes his a girl dad for life.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

“Then Remy said something about ‘charm bein’ hereditary,’ and I swear I almost threw the book at his smug face,” Rogue complained, her Southern drawl full of playful frustration as she sipped her tea. Kitty and Jubilee burst into laughter, nearly spilling their own drinks as they lounged in the living room.

“Are we sure you didn’t throw it?” Kitty teased, raising an eyebrow. “Because I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Oh, I thought about it,” Rogue admitted, rolling her eyes. “I blame Logan for givin’ him advice. He’s just as bad.”

As if summoned by his name, Logan walked into the room, Laura strapped snugly to his chest in her baby carrier. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his face had the faintest hint of exhaustion, but his smirk was intact.

“Talkin’ about me like I can’t hear, huh?” Logan rumbled, dropping down onto the sofa beside Rogue. The baby cooed softly, her tiny hands reaching up toward his chin, making him glance down with softness in his expression.

Jubilee practically bounced in her seat, her eyes lighting up as she leaned closer. “There’s my girl! I missed her,” she cooed, wiggling her fingers in front of Laura’s face. The baby blinked at her with wide, curious eyes before breaking into a tiny, toothless grin.

“Guess she missed you too,” Logan said, his voice laced with quiet amusement. He adjusted the baby carrier strap and leaned back into the couch, his free hand resting on Laura’s tiny back. “But don’t go fillin’ her head with nonsense.”

“What kind of nonsense?” Kitty asked, grinning as she propped her chin on her hand. “The truth? Like how you’re totally wrapped around her tiny little finger?”

Rogue snorted. “Oh, he’s done for. I mean, look at him. Big, bad Wolverine takin’ orders from a baby.”

Logan shot Rogue a mock glare. “You want to babysit her for a night? Let’s see how long you last without gettin’ wrapped around her finger.”

“Nope,” Rogue replied quickly, holding up her hands. “I’m not fallin’ for that trap.”

“I think it’s adorable,” Jubilee chimed in. “The Wolverine, official Girl Dad for life. I mean, you’ve got Laura, Rogue, me, and Kitty! We’re your fan club.”

Logan groaned dramatically, though there was an unmistakable fondness in his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. A fan club of troublemakers.”

“Oh, come on, you love us,” Kitty teased, nudging Jubilee. “And you love it even more that we’re training Laura to join the chaos.”

“You mean cause the chaos,” Logan muttered, adjusting Laura as she started squirming in her carrier. “Alright, alright, enough gushing. I gotta feed her.”

As Logan stood up, Jubilee shot out of her chair and followed him into the hallway. “Wait!” she called, her voice softening as she caught up with him. “You’re not gonna, like… forget about me, right? Just ‘cause you’ve got Laura now?”

Logan paused mid-step, glancing down at her. For a brief moment, Jubilee looked more like the kid he’d met all those years ago—a little insecure and vulnerable. Logan let out a quiet sigh, crouching slightly so she didn’t have to crane her neck to look up at him.

“C’mon, Jubes,” he said gently, his voice gruff but kind. “You think a little peanut like Laura’s gonna make me forget you? You’re stuck with me, kid. Always have been, always will be.”

Jubilee’s lips wobbled into a smile as she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. “Good. ‘Cause you’re kinda like… my dad, y’know?”

Logan’s expression softened, and he ruffled her hair lightly with his free hand. “Guess that makes me a dad to a whole pack of girls now,” he joked. “What’d you say earlier? Girl Dad for life?”

Jubilee laughed, the sound light and free. “Yeah, pretty much. Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

Logan smirked, shaking his head as Laura let out a little whimper, reminding him of her hunger. “Alright, kid, I gotta feed this one. But don’t think I’m goin’ soft on ya just ‘cause I’ve got a baby now.”

Jubilee grinned, rocking back on her heels. “Sure, sure, Mr. Tough Guy. Go do your dad duties.”

Logan rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips as he walked away. Watching him disappear down the hall, Jubilee felt a warmth settle in her chest—a mix of gratitude and love for the man who, without saying much, had always been there for her.

And, in a way, for all of them.

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/772302271185928192/okay-this-may-be-a-weird-ventconfession-but-here?source=share To the prev anon: The people who get upset about adult writers exploring the sexuality of teenager characters are people who probably still ARE teenagers and don't realize that you don't stop remembering what being a teenager was like just because you stopped being one. When people write about the experience of being a teenager, the absolute vast majority of them are writing from their OWN MEMORY of being a teenager, and picturing how THEY felt/looked/acted at that age, not fantasizing about actual current teenagers. When I see actual teenagers, I'm like "omg you are all babies, I wasn't that young when I was that age!" But that's the kind of thing you can only realize when you've gotten older, and come to understand that all the ages you ever were still exist inside your conscious memory. I think the main reason it's different with teenagers is that they're really only at the start of building that conscious memory. Trying to remember 10-15 years back would put them back at an age of which they remember virtually nothing, and the changes that happened to them within that 15 years are huge--literally taking them from diapers to drivers' licenses. By contrast, for an older adult, 10-15 years starts to feel almost immaterial. I've been at the same job for almost 15 years, for example, so for me, that's not a hugely significant passage of time, and I remember my experience from that time perfectly clearly. I also remember a lot of what it was like to be a teenager, but I remember it from MY perspective, where that was the oldest and most mature I'd ever been, and if I were to write about that time, it would be from the perspective of my own teenage self who still exists inside me in that memory. (There's a reason high schoolers in books and movies always feel weirdly dated, if not set in an earlier timeframe altogether--they're being written by adults who are remembering their own experiences of that time of their lives.) Anyway, my point here is that the vast majority of people who would have any kind of problem with 'writing teens' are just people who haven't aged out of that perspective yet, so they make the mistake of thinking 'ew these adults are writing about ME' when in fact these adults are writing about their own memories of being that age. It's a self-centered perspective that is almost solely the fault of youth and inexperience, and they'll grow out of it. Don't let it get you down, anon.

--

Once you hit a certain age, you start in with "the other day" meaning 20 years ago.