I wish I had his discipline

Bill shows the reader how pleasure can be punishment.

Warning: SMUT.

This is my first piece of writing and I hope you enjoy. Although I am using Bill Skarsgård; this does not represent him personally. Only his looks are being used, the rest is just from my imagination. 


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Inseminate. (Chicago Justice, Dawson)

“Hi buddy,” Antonio Dawson greeted, accepting the hug you’re 3 year old wrapped around his leg. “How are you guys doing?”

“We’re alright. Your partner called me in, said there was new info on the case?” You and your son had been victims of a house invasion in a string of other home invasions. You had taken your son to see the new Beauty and the Beast movie so luckily you weren’t harmed; others hadn’t been so lucky.

“Oh yeah, we need you’re help with an ID.” You had gotten home just in time to see a man pull off a mask and slide in his car, thinking he was in the clear where no could see. You had parked out front, debating if sleeping in the car was such a bad idea when your son was actually asleep for once. Then you noticed your front door standing open, locked your doors and dialed CPD.

“Of course, lead the way.” They lead you to a room, leaving you with his partner while Antonio offered to take your son for a snack.

“If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“Yeah, I absolutely trust you. Just no gummy bears-”

“Makes him sick, got it.” He gave you a smile, waving you off when you reached for your change purse. Leading your baby from the room, you sighed and settled into the chair in front of a page of perps.

Your eyes locked on the top right hand corner, finger landing on the man with ease you hadn’t expected; “Him”.

After a whole mess of paperwork, you were more than ready to grab your son and go home. You found him sitting in Antonio’s lap at his desk, explaining the crewd drawing to him. You let yourself wish for just a moment that it was real, having found yourself fall in love with the man in front of you. Antonio was the man you wished your son could have for a father, nice and charming with the perfect mix of humour and discipline.

“And this is our house!” He cheered, obviously explaining what was a photo of your small family.

“Where’s your daddy?” Your heart stopped, having avoided the question all throughout the investigation. Your sons little eyebrows furrowed, looking up at Antonio with a twisted pout.

“Why would I need a daddy when I have mommy?” Your heart swelled for the little boy with your eyes, his little face a spitting image of yours at that age. He always had a way of reminding you that your little family of two was more than enough. That you were more than enough.

“I was inseminated.” You blurted out, walking up to the pair. Antonio startled, tightening his grip on your son protectively and you smiled at the small movement. He stood, your little love on his hip as he noticed it was you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offense.” You waved him off.

“None taken, just don’t advertise it. People seem to automatically assume that I ‘need a man to take care of us’ and men offer their services, or they think it’s because I couldn’t lock down a man so I don’t really bring it up.” You shrugged, lifting your son from Antonio’s arms when he reached for you.

“Do you mind if I ask why you actually did it?” You startled, no one having asked you that before but you found you truly appreciated it.

“I wanted a baby, I wanted to raise a child. I didn’t have time for a relationship, a baby and my job so I chose and I haven’t regretted it once.” You paused, “Okay, that’s a lie. I had stairs in my apartment and that sucked but some friends helped me move my bed downstairs and then it was all fine.” You also hadn’t found anyone to settle down with, weren’t positive you had wanted to at that moment. You had wanted a baby, and there was nothing wrong with that.

“I know you didn’t ask my opinion, but I think that’s about the most badass thing I have ever heard.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have 2 kids, it’s nearly impossible to take care of them on my own so making the decision was really brave. Plus, you’re doing a wonderful job and you obviously love your son. Anyone who makes you feel like less than superwoman is not worthy of your time.” He smiled, shaking your sons hand when he held his chubby fingers out to Antonio as you tried not to cry.

No one had just so openly accepted it, nor had they told you, you were doing a good job. You didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you,” Is what you settled for. “We should get going.”

“Yeah, of course.” There was an awkward moment where neither of you knew what to do before he broke it with a laugh, reaching out to hug you. He held you for a long moment, one hand ghosting the back of your neck as the other rested low on your back.

“Mama, squished!” Your son complained, laughing when Antonio tickled his ribs.

“Alright baby, let’s get you home.” You grinned, “Thank you Antonio, for your help and just all of it really.”

“No problem, bye little man!” He waved as you turned on your heel, hoisting your son high on your hip as you headed to the exit. Then you paused halfway there, some dumb moment of courage hitting you as you turned back to the man who’d been watching you leave.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?” You questioned, biting on your lower lip in nerves til a grin split his lips.

“I would love to.”

personally I think getting inseminated is badass as fuck, and it means that person truly wanted a child if they went through all the forms and doctors visits and process to have them idk. I just think it’s really brave and if you’re thinking about it, just get all the information you can and talk to your doctor and yeah, do you boo xxxx

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Apartment 5108 // 13

Apartment 5108 — ft. Oh Sehun
// Contemporary Romance
// Adult Fiction
// Sexual & Explicit Language — in later chapters

// 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12


Everything will be fine.

Everything will sort itself out.

Everything will be alright and I’ll be okay.

My thoughts settle onto these set of words and I repeat them in a never ending circle. They loop around my head and all the way down the length of my body because they’re my protection and have been for the majority of my life. I led a deplorable childhood—unimaginable to most. I handled it to the best of my abilities because I had no one to help me, no one to encourage me. I didn’t have a single person in my life to lean on so I was forced to rely on my words as a form of sanctuary. When I had nothing to hold onto, they gave me the scintilla of hope needed to survive. They allowed me to believe in some sort of balance. If I had to live through an unfathomable youth then there had to be an equal—there had to be a better future waiting for me in the distance. 

I thought that life was with Sehun—and for a while it was.

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anonymous asked:

So, supposing that Zuko and Katara became parents. What do you think Zuko's parenting style would be like? And how would he himself handle the notion of being a parent? Think he'd be scared?

Oooh, we´ve been getting such amazing asks lately! This is such a good question! Look, to be honest I suck at writing my thoughts down, but I tried…so..

I´ll start with the easiest question to answer. Do I think he´d be scared? YES!! Of course I think he´d be scared! Our poor boy would be PETRIFIED at first.

Mainly because of the political implications the birth of a child with mixed-bender parentage would have on the Fire Nation. And it´s not that Zuko wouldn´t be able to handle the situation and/or reach a compromise; to be honest I can´t even imagine Zuko giving a single fuck about his subject´s medieval ways of thinking, but there´s no doubt in my mind he´d worry about the effects those opinions would have on his wife and child.  

Zuko, being the precious cinnamon roll that he is would feel guilty for burdening his family. He´d fear that if a blue-eyed water bender heir were to be born, he or she would be shunned by their own people and his or her birthright denied. He´d also fear for his wife and unborn child´s safety, since he knows assassins would think killing a pregnant Katara would be the easiest way to end his bloodline.

And then there´d be the normal new-dad-to-be fears like “will I be a good father?” or,” Will I have enough time to raise my child right?” and the classic, “Will my child become a target for my evil psychopath father?”

You know, the usual.

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Worried Sick

This is my first request so thank you, it made me happy. Please send my in some more, I’m really getting into writing again. I love you, thank you. Anyway here we go, enjoy.

1. Worried Sick

It had been 3 hours of waiting. 3 hours past the time the eldest, and normally most responsible, child should have been home. Harry had been waiting 3 hours at the kitchen table, fighting sleep. Fighting the urge to go upstairs and cuddle up to his beautiful wife and just sleep. But he couldn’t do that, not until he knew the other beautiful girl in his life was home and safe.

It was half an hour later, Harry was nursing his fifth cup of tea, or maybe sixth, he had lost count, when the sensor light blinked on and he heard keys jiggling on the other side of the front door. He remained sat down, wanting to see the state she was in before she could hide anything. He saw her stumble in, almost tripping over heals she could barely walk in. He was relieved to see her in one piece, but judging by her choice of clothing and the mess on top of her head, it was no question what she had been up to.

“Where have you been?” His voice seemed to shock her as she let out a curse and held her heart, as if it would slow it down from the scare.

“Dad, what the hell. You can’t just sit in the dark like that, it’s not normal.” She laughed; acting as if she hadn’t just came home at 2:30 in the morning, smelling like cheap beer and smoke. Harry stood up and pushed the chair in, he clenched his teeth trying to contain the disappointment boiling up.

“Wipe the smile off your face and answer the question.” Her expression went grim and she recoiled from the angry man in front of her, looking sheepish. “We don’t set a lot of rules, Lib, all we ask is you do your part around the house and respect us. You couldn’t even send us a text letting us know you were okay. We were fuc-.” He took a deep breath trying not to get himself too worked up, not wanting to wake the other kids by raising his voice.

“We were worried sick; your mum was balling her eyes out. Did you not think? You know your mum jumps to worst case so you can imagine the things her mind had stirred up. God, I can’t even look at you.” Harry turned his back and massaged the bridge of his nose, taking deep breaths.

“Why should I care how mum feels, mum doesn’t as much as look twice at me anymore. I don’t get amazing grades like Noah in school and I’m not a wannabe football player like Liam so I’m nothing to her. I’m a disappointment to her and she can’t wait till I leave.” The bitterness in her voice sent chills through Harry’s body. How could a daughter say that about her own mother? A mum who does everything in her power to look after her children while juggling work and all with Harry being absent a lot. He whipped around to face Libby again, wanting her to see the distaste on his face.

“Don’t you dare. Your mum loves every one of you the same. And I can’t say I blame her for not wanting to talk to you when you’re a brat and disrespect her all the time. I’ve had enough, both of us have. Your seventeen, you don’t get to waltz in and out of here whenever you want to.” By this point, Harry didn’t care if he was raising his voice, he knew there was a risk of him waking the rest of the house up but at the moment all he could focus on was getting the point across to the teenager cowering in front of him.

“You’re grounded. For the next three weeks you’ll do what you’re told straight away with no complaints. If I hear a hint of backchat, god help me. You won’t be seeing your friends unless its school related and you will be home straight after school every day. You will get your phone after I see all your homework is completed. Am I clear?” His breathing was heavy and he could feel the heat rushing to his head.

“Are you serious? You can’t do that!” He was surprised when she didn’t stamp her foot to add more effect.

“I can and I will. Now get upstairs and get to bed. Be quiet, your mum was up late phoning around if anyone knew where you were or if you had been dropped at a hospital.” She slipped her heels off, not saying anything else and stomped up the stairs, ignoring his demand to be quiet, but he couldn’t find it in himself to argue anymore. So he sat himself at the kitchen table once again and cried.

Harry hated being tough on his kids, absolutely hated it. It was normally you, who dealt with the heavy stuff like this, but tonight he decided to step up, but now he was regretting it. He couldn’t ignore the tears he saw welling up in Libby’s eyes before she disappeared to her room and it broke his heart. The thing he hated more than making you cry was making his kids cry. He knew discipline was important, but he wishes they could have a calm, civil conversation to sort things out.

An arm wrapping around his shoulders bought him out of his head, he turned to see your head resting on his shoulder, looking at him with a sleepy smile. He swore time stopped and he forgot everything that had happened, you made everything better. You and your smile.

“Thank you for sticking up for me, and doing all that. I know it was hard for you, and I love you even more for it.” Harry let out a sigh and buried his head in his hands. “You heard that?” His voice was muffled but you could hear the defeat in his voice. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough, baby. But it’s okay; she’s probably had a little to drink and is a bit out of it at the moment.” He didn’t want you to hear that, he knew how sensitive you were, and that you were more hurt than you let on, but he let it go for now. He moved his chair back slightly and grabbed your waist to sit you on his lap and bury his face into your neck. The lump in the back of his throat made his voice come out grumbly. “That was hard. I can’t believe what she said.”

Harry lifted his head up to look you in your eyes. “You’re an amazing mum, the best one out there. Don’t let our stroppy little miss up there make you think any different. I don’t know how you manage to do it all to be honest. You’re superwoman, you’re mine.” He left a lingering kiss on your lips, and when he was left kissing your teeth from your grin, he moved down your neck with his lips.

He lifted you in his arms, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, and he carried you up the stairs. Butterflies danced around your stomach as you thought of what was too come. As you walked silently past your daughter’s room, Harry’s lips now kissing down your collarbones, you heard the loud snores and couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped you knowing your baby was home okay.

Harry finally put you back on your feet when you arrived in your shared bedroom, but keeping hold of you. He removed each piece of your clothing and you did the same to him. The amount of love you felt for the man in front of you flooded your whole body and you couldn’t believe how amazing your life had turned out. Harry walked you back on to the bed and showed you just how amazing you were until the sun was beginning to rise.

Since we’re talking about Damon… Weird thought I’ve had on my mind for the past few years, but I have a suspicion that Damon is someone with high-functioning anxiety. Aside from his mention about medication in the 90’s, particularly because he has a lot of traits for it: control complex, high level of discipline and organization, high expectation of others and himself, anxiety about idleness (watching tv for example), restlessness, workaholicism (he has called himself this before), perfectionism, playing ping pong before gigs to calm his nerves, opiate use, etc.

Mm, probably just wishful thinking on my part but weirdly I wish I knew because he it would make me feel less alone to know someone who inspires me also suffers from anxiety issues.

FicRequest: The Plan, Part Trois

FicRequest: The Plan, Part Trois
Pairing: Father!Tony x Daughter!Reader, Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 969
For @travelwithwords
Warnings: None

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Scott’s voice entered Y/N’s ear.

“It’ll be fine, Scott, just stay with me and everything will be fine.” Y/N replied, staring hard at the readout in front of her face. Steve was apparently flying the jet a little slower than normal because she was able to catch up to them, staying a respectable distance away so that FRIDAY wasn’t alarmed. Bypassing the AI was no easy feat, but Y/N had been doing it for most of her life, so maybe not so difficult after all.

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anonymous asked:

hi we're the same age but i really look up to u! i wish i had the self-discipline and motivation to do the stuff u do and everything. now i really need help cause i'm failing physics (i'm in uni and this is a pre-requisite for 2 other classes i have to take next semester) and it's just messing with my overall health (emotional stuff affects my physical being). i've failed terribly my past 2 exams (i have 1 left) and the other percentage is meh right now. please give me some advice or something-

-thank u so much i hope i don’t come off as rude or something like that. i really love ur blog! it’s really useful, please keep it up :)

First of all, thank you so much! Alright, so what I understand is that you’re failing physics, and the emotional distress that comes with it is affecting your health. The most direct way to improve your health is to ace your exams. Now, I think the first step for improving your performance is to analyze how you study. Is there anything you’re doing that isn’t effective? Maybe the way you study for your tests and exams is merely reading the book? Maybe you haven’t done enough practice questions? Here’s a helpful post about how I study for major exams, and I hope it’ll help! For physics specifically, I think the rudimentary step is to completely, and I mean completely, understand what you’re learning. Did you do calculations correctly but you can’t say why you did it a certain way? Study the chapter again. Do you understand what you read, but once you look away from the book, you can’t explain everything? Study the chapter again.

The next problem, I think, is the degree to which your emotions affect your physical (and mental) health. I suggest you analyze your daily habits. Are you getting enough sleep? Do you eat enough food? Do you exercise at least a bit? If your daily habits aren’t the problem and you just really have a lot on your hands and in your mind, you might want to try out some self-care routines. Meditating helps me sustain my focus and be more aware of what my body needs. I have a friend who alleviated her anxiety by meditating every morning! Writing poetry and talking to my friends help me vent out all my emotions so that they aren’t released in more harmful ways. Maybe you could pick up a mode of self expression.

Hope these tips suffice, and good luck in your studies!

Chapter Five

A Conflicted New Home

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Ship: Kylo Ren x Reader

Rating: M

You looked down at the food in your plate, pushing your peas around with your fork thoughtfully. Next to you was a crudely written history of Kylo’s past, written up by General Hux and slipped under your door that morning. You stared at it, wondering about some of its lack of details. 

Kylo Ren - Master of the Knights of Ren - came to us 4 years ago at he appointing of Supreme Leader Snoke. Previously, he began his training to become a Jedi under the apprenticeship of a famous Jedi knight before realizing the true nature of the Force. Supreme Leader Snoke was the one who sought after Ren, sensing his powers and thus summoned him to join the First Order. Ren has been aboard Starkiller Base since its inception and will continue to be a pivotal tool in the rise of the First Order. 

Why exactly had Ren left his Master to work for the Order? Who had been his Master? And why was Ren so closed off to everyone about his past? The letter from Hux was vague, not giving much detail, which left you to fit the pieces back into a blank puzzle. 

You wondered if his master could have been Luke Skywalker, the famed Jedi who had taken down Darth Vader. You think back to his family tree, remembering his mother’s name. Leia Organa. That would have made Luke his Uncle, you think. Could that be why he was so emotional? Did he feel sorry for betraying not only the Light but his Uncle as well? 

Emotional, you consider. You almost felt sorry for him. But how could you feel sorry for someone who consciously betrayed their family for the dark side? But what exactly had pulled him towards the dark side in the first place?

Next to you, you scribble down on your napkin: What compelled you to train on the dark side?

Stuffing the napkin in your uniform’s pocket, you stand up and grab your tray of half eaten food. You haven’t been hungry much lately. When you weren’t picking apart Kylo Ren’s world, you were thinking about your family back home and wondering what they were doing. Would Papa ever forgive you, you wonder as you walk down the aisle of hungry officers. Would they write? Perhaps you should write them another letter to let them know you had arrived safely, you thought sadly.

Without warning, you suddenly felt a hasty pinch on your behind, causing you to jump from your skin. You turn around, staggered. It was the officer from the control room who had so boldly whistled at you in front of the General. You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as you slap his hand away.

“How dare you,” you spat. “Control yourself, you filthy pig!”

His colleagues around him snickered, smiling at you and elbowing him with delight.

“Not with that ass, baby.” He leaned forward trying to grab you again but you move away. At a loss for words and fuming, you quickly threw your tray in the closest garbage and exited the mess hall.

“Filthy men,” you sputtered, your face burning in both embarrassment and anger. The nerve. With a mess of colorful words floating through your mind and your feet traveling much faster than normal, you suddenly found yourself in an unknown part of your sector. You look around as anger and embarrassment had replaced themselves with frustration and an ounce of anxiety. You stared at the room numbers, concentrating on remembering if you had ever been there.

Nothing looked familiar. Actually, everything looked familiar because the whole base appeared similar. Two stormtroopers rounded the corner to pass by you, not bothering to look in your direction. Your mouth opened with a question on its tip, but they were gone before you could find it in your pride to tell them you were lost.

You started walking, hoping you could find your way back to the mess hall at least. You poked your head in some rooms as you walked by, observing some stormtroopers leisurely reclining in their chairs as they watched a game of virtual chess. Their laughter filled your ears, but it was quickly replaced by the sounds of a rage filled cry that echoed down the corridor. You practically jumped out of your skin. 

The cry sounded again, causing your heart to jump from in its place. You looked around, your eyes landing on an open door where sparks bounced and scattered across the floor. The sounds of metal and hardware being ripped through caused you to take a step back. 

Finally, just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. The stormtroopers who you had noticed before poked their heads out of their room, staring at you in bewilderment. 

Curiosity seemed to guide you closer to the door.

“Good luck with that,” one of the stormtroopers murmured behind you. You ignored them.

Smoke filled the air as you peered into the chamber, leaning against the frame of the door. You waved your hand in front of your face, looking around at the pieces of metal that lay singed on the floor. Your eyes travel to a dark mass leaning over the machinery, their shoulders hunched over with labored breathing. Ren? In his hand was a glowing red lightsaber, it’s cross section still scorching the metal close by. 

“Master Ren?” Despite your uneasiness, your voice remained steady. 

What?” He bellowed, turning to face you. He took a step closer and you held your hands up defensively, backing away. The grip on his lightsaber tightened. 

“I apologize for the intrusion, Master Ren.” You uttered. “I just-” 

“You what?” He fumed. You glanced down at his right hand still gripping his weapon. “You came to cure me? Cure me of my anger?”

You stare at him for a moment, letting your hands fall away from their defense. Your eyes narrow, watching him watch you as his chest heaved in fury. 

“I don’t think you understand your anger,” you spoke softly. 

“I understand it!” He bellowed, ramming his lightsaber into a nearby cabinet. “Stop trying to pick me apart! You don’t know me! You don’t know what I am capable of!”

He stared at you through his mask, his other hand clenching and unclenching its fingers. In your ears, you could feel your the blood rushing as it tried to pump itself through your system. Your heart felt like it might beat out of its cage. 

Your eyes locked with the slot in his mask where his eyes were. You took a step closer to him. His chest was still heaving but he didn’t move, surprised at his sudden lack of space. Slowly, you lifted a quivering hand in the air, watching him with fixed eyes as you gently placed it on the grip of his lightsaber. You held his thickly gloved fingers for a moment before finally pressing his thumb down to deactivate the burning red strobe. 

Carefully you lifted your hand away, watching him as you took a step back, hoping he wouldn’t strangle you. 

“I think I do know who you are, Kylo,” You told him quietly. “And deep down, I think you know too.” 

His anger returned. He pounded the base of his lightsaber against the cabinet, grunting and leaving a sizable dent. 

“I don’t want to feel this anymore,” His voice was almost pleading. “I desire so much more. But I can’t have it because -” He trailed off. 

“You can have it,” You tell him quickly. Were you encouraging him to further his wicked course? “You just have to accept your anger. Accept why you get angry. Accept that your rage stems from other things- from your past. Accept it! Accept who you are!”  

He stared at you for a moment more before bowing his head. There was silence in the room. The sizzling of electric wires surrounded you and you could feel the heat from machines attempting to service at their usual levels.

 “Who I was. And who I no longer wish to be.” 

You pause for a moment, staring at him. You stuff your hands into your jacket pocket and remember what you wrote down. You hesitate, your eyes still fixated on him.

“Why are you here, Kylo?” You raised just above a whisper. “What are you doing at the First Order?”

“I belong here,” He answered quickly. 

“Snoke says you belong here,” You remind him. “Doesn’t he?” 

“Are you trying to change me?” He spat.

“No!” You quickly lift your hands. “I just want you to see things differently.” 

“Snoke is a good man!” He waved his hand as if to dismiss you. “He helped me when I needed it most. When I was teased and tormented at the Jedi Temple by my peers, Snoke came to me - telling me things I wish I had always known. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory.” 

Ren stared at you, his fist balled up before him with fervor. 

“But didn’t your master-” 

“My Master?” He spluttered angrily. “Luke Skywalker! Luke Skywalker - the man my men are searching the galaxy for as we speak. The man, who like a coward ran into hiding after I realized the truth of the Force. The man who tried to teach me things but never showed discipline to those who tormented me. Luke Skywalker is no man. He is a coward.” 

You crumple the napkin up in your fist, feeling lost for words. 

“Do you not feel any remorse for having betrayed him? For having betrayed your family?” You ask now, leaving your counseling aside. This was a personal question you needed to suddenly know. The two of you stood on opposite ends of the room as he suddenly turned away from you, his shoulders stiff.  

He looked down, reholstering his weapon to his belt. “None.” 

A/N: Alright, to be honest I’m not really satisfied with this chapter. But I’m super sick of staring at it so I’m posting it. Let me know what you think. I love love love getting messages from everyone, even if you have some constructive criticism, my ask box is always open!

anonymous asked:

what sort of fathers would bts be to their children? like whether they'd be the embarassing kind or the protective kind?

This is such a cute question and I just have to answer them all. Cause… *grins* Daddy scenarios are the best. <3 So let’s start!


Jin - “The Dad every Mom wished they married”

He cooks, he cleans, he disciplines the kids and at the same time makes his wife feel like the queen. Kim Seokjin is the epitome of every woman’s dream husband and father to their children. Jin’s the “motherly dad”, the type to make sandwich lunch packs for his kids even if he had to go to work, or the one who would call his wife in the afternoon saying, “Honey, I got off early today. I’ll pick up the kids. See you in a few~ Love you!” 

The moment he parks by the curb, his daughter’s face would light up, seeing the familiar car and just run towards it. Jin’s face would light up as he meets her halfway, lifting her up and spinning her around. “How’s my princess?” he would ask, holding his daughter’s hand as he leads her to the car, listening to what she had to say and nodding like the good dad he is. 

Jin would be a great dad and is probably one of the few dads who would actually agree to go to parent-teacher conferences voluntarily. XD

Rap Monster - “The Very Cool Dad”

“Hey my dad’s a rapper and he’s awesome.” That’s probably one of the things Namjoon’s kid would boast about with his friends. Mon here would be a pretty awesome dad, the type to treat his kids like they were friends but he’d be pretty firm with them too and knows exactly when to act like a “dad”. Plus, he’s pretty smart so he’d help his kid out a lot on school work though I’m pretty sure the intellect would be passed down. XD

“Dad, can you teach me how to make music?” his kid would ask one night and Namjoon’s heart would just soar at his words but he’d say instead, “Have you finished your homework?”

His six-year-old son would nod enthusiastically and Namjoon would smile at him as he pats his lap. “C’mere then.” He’d bring the kid onto his lap and face him in front of his computer, showing him all the music apps and making him listen to the songs he’s producing. <3

Suga - “The Quiet but Supportive Dad”

Yoongi would be the dad who watches quietly in the background. Since he’s always working, it’s the mom who would usually take care of the kid but Yoongi would definitely be involved in raising the child, still. He’d be caring though not as playful (though there will be crazy dad yoongi at times XD). But the one thing I feel with Yoongi as a dad is that he’d be incredibly supportive of his kids. He’d attend every single school event if needed and he’d support his kid’s dreams whatever they may be. :)

Yoongi’s also the type to sleep all day on the couch and be awoken by his kid’s pleading for him to play with him. XD

“Okay.” he’d groan. “Let’s play hide and seek. I’ll close my eyes and count to ten then you go hide—”

“Appa!” his kid would whine as Yoongi closes his eyes, suppressing a smile. “you’re going to sleep again—”

“Okay okay. I’m up.” he says as he ruffles his hair and moves to wherever his kid wants to play, losing the fight easily. <3

J-Hope - “The Sweetest Dad in the Universe”

Hoseok would be so great with kids! Especially with babies, because I feel like he’d definitely be really caring and the type who feeds his kid and make those cute funny faces and weird noises. XD J-hope would be a good dad that is well respected and loved by his children. He’s the type to be always there for them whenever they need him and is up for anything. Be it helping them out in school, going on a trip, or even playing catch or Frisbee outside with the family dog.

J-hope’s that perfect dad you see in the movies. <3

Jimin - “The Protective Dad who Ends Up Giving in to His Kid in the End” XD

I see Jimin as the protective type. He’s probably the one who would lay out all the rules, the type to make sure no boys comes close to his daughter, and the type to end up spoiling the kids either way. haha I think he’s the type of father who would literally do anything for his kids. Be it a helping them out with a school project or even agreeing to take them to an ice cream parlor after school if they asked. :) Jimin would totally be under their control cause that’s how much he loves them. 

Jimin would be the type of dad to be teasing as well and would love to make his kids laugh with his greasy jokes. Just imagine, him being all greasy with his wife while the kids whine in protest saying how their dad shouldn’t be “putting the moves” on their mom when they’re around and Jimin makes it worse by facing them and opening out his arms and saying, “Give appa a hug!” <3

V - “The Dad you Shouldn’t Take to School Games”

Taehyung’s the type to be his children’s playmate. He would just be so playful and energetic around them that he would seem like an extra kid in the house. XD Despite that, Taehyung would be a very loving and caring father and is one of the few dad’s who really get their kids; like he can stoop to their level and just bond which is great since that paves the way for a healthy father-child relationship.

But yes, Taehyung has that 4D characteristic so be ready if ever you’ll be bringing him to any family day events in your child’s school cause he’s definitely the type to cheer on his kid…complete with moves, cheers, and yells that would have all the parents looking at him. :P 

Taehyung wouldn’t care though, cause he loves his kids so much he’s willing to give his all ;)  And warning: to his future son/s, he’d kiss you in public and he wouldn’t care. (I find that incredibly cute though <3)

Jungkook - “The Dad Kids Look Up To”

I feel like Jungkook would be pretty firm in raising his children so he falls under the protective type. He won’t be as strict but he’d have that sense of authority that would have his kids “fear” him a bit. Which is good since children needs to know who’s in charge, right? And Jungkook would definitely be that kind of dad.

He may seem like he doesn’t care at times and might be awkward with his children but when he senses that something is wrong, he’s the type of dad to knock on his kid’s bedroom door asking if he could come in and the two of them would just talk. :) Jungkook’s also the dad who is treated by his kids like a role model—-like his son would want to be as talented as him and even though his daughter hates him sometimes for setting up a curfew so early, she secretly wishes her future boyfriend would be just like his dad (get what I mean? :>).

They know he means well and that makes them love him even more <3

Oh! And he’d have his moments too. He’s pretty funny so he’d probably just blurt something remotely funny, making his kids laugh and face palm themselves thinking, “I can’t believe dad just made a pun and it’s actually so corny it’s funny.” 

Whew that was handful to write. keke~ Felt good though. Hope you liked it anonie~

They can father my children any day. XD


Hogwarts Calum AU: Part 4


School was different when you both went back to Hogwarts the next year. The place was overrun by Death-Eaters, Snape had taken over the job as headteacher and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

It seemed ironic to you. That you were back where it all began when it happened. You were stood with other Gryffindor’s and Ravenclaws, backs as far against the wall as you could get for your practical Defence Against the Dark Arts Lesson. But how were you meant to defend yourself against the dark arts when those teaching you were the ones performing the dark arts?

“Now, we need two volunteers, or I’ll have to pick.” The teacher smiled at the class menacingly. You had to stare him straight in the face. Several others noted a few weeks earlier that avoiding eye contact meant you got pick and disciplined. He scanned the classroom, looking at the feared faces of the teenagers.

“You.” He pointed at Calum, and gestured for him to step forward.
“And her.” His assistant layed eyes on you as the teacher took you by your robe and dragged you out of the crowd, throwing you into the middle of the room.

You must’ve pull some expression when Calum was called out. And that’s why they chose you. Because after being isolated from each other for a few months, you still hadn’t let go of each other.

“Get out your wand boy.” He seemed to growl, having pleasure in watching you squirm. You tried to keep a straight face, keep your chin high, show your Professor he doesn’t phase you. Once Calum had it down by his side, the Death-Eaters grins turned wider.
“Now, I think an important skill to acquire in the Wizarding World is to be able to punish someone accordingly.” Fear struck though you like a bludger had hit your chest.
“Perform the Cruciatus Curse on her.”
“But she hadn’t done anything wrong!” Calum stated bravely.
“Did I ask if she’d done anything wrong? No. Now perform the Cruciatus Curse on her.”
“No.” Calum told him sternly, square jaw ready to face him.
“What did you say to me?”
“No, I will not perform the curse on her.”

This wasn’t bravery. This was stupidity.

“Well then I suppose I’ll have to be the one to display to the class what discipline looks like then.“ He snarled as the wizard pulled out his wand at Calum and shouted within the classroom the words you wished you didn’t have to hear.

Calum dropped to the ground in a heartbeat, screaming as you saw the pain in his scrunched up face, arching his back before writhing in agony upon the floor.

You couldn’t watch. You had caused this. If you hadn’t made a face, you would’ve never been pulled out, thus not having Calum rebel against the dark teacher and therefore feeling unimaginable amounts of pain. Pain that you wish you could take yourself instead of him. Sadly for you, you had to watch the whole of it. The teachers assistant saw you trying to slyly look away and close your eyes, so he took you from behind and grabbed your chin, making you stare right at the beautiful boy who was going through some sort of hell right now. And when you shut your eyes to try and stop yourself from seeing this torture you produced, the assistants gruff voice said in your ear:
“Open your eyes or the boy dies like this.” And when Calum met your eyes, he could see them filled with tears. And in that moment, you both wanted nothing more to embrace each other.

You didn’t know whether you could do it. Apologise to him. Apologise for almost getting him killed. You didn’t know if he would accept it.

You were sat in one of the high hammocks in the Room of Requirement, everyone else either asleep or whispering in little groups of friends. You gulped down your fear and carefully climbed down, walking over to Calum and his friends, who seemed to be with a few more girls. You noticed Michael and Luke staring at you as you walked up behind him.

“Umm.. Calum?” He turned around at you.
“Do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?” You were scared, already feeling a lump form inside your throat, urging yourself not to break down here.
“Of course.” He said, standing up as you both walked into the corner of the room.

Then bricks built up around you, a small, isolated room with one window and a fireplace on the other side. It was about 10 feet long and 6 feet wide.
“Maybe we need more privacy than I thought.” You murmured, twiddling with your fingers. After a minute of silence, Calum awkwardly asked politely:
“Would you like to join me by the fire?” You nodded, both walking over and sitting by the orange flame.

The tension in the room was unbearable, the few inches you were separated killed you both, being that close and not being able to feel your skin against his.

After a few moments, you gulped down your fear and spoke, yet you looked down at your hands the whole time, not wanting to meet his eyes.
“I wanted to apologise for-” you sighed.
“For causing what happened in DADA. I can’t imagine what that was like and it’s obvious I must’ve shown some expression which is why they pulled me out of the crowd and I hadn’t done that you wouldn’t of been so chivalrous and refused to perform that curse on me.”

You let out a shaky breath, knowing it wouldn’t be long before you broke down in front of him.

“And I caused you pain that people have been afraid of since the dawn of time.” You sniffled, beginning to feel the tears escape your eyes.
“And I know you may not think these tears are genuine, and I know you may still be mad at me and I know that it was such a horrible thing that you may never forgive me but I just want you to know that I am so, so sorry Calum. I really am.” You sobbed, letting your emotions overtake you.

Then something strange happened. Something you never imagined when you went through this conversation in your head. He pulled your body into his, placing his arms tightly around your waist as you began to cry even more into his dirty school shirt, weakly putting your arms around his ribcage. Calum began rocking you from side to side, only slightly, reminding you of someone comforting a child.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“But it was.” You contradicted.
“It wasn’t Y/N. That was my decision.” He whispered to you.
“A decision you wouldn’t of made if I hadn’t been pulled out.” You told him. He just carried on rubbing your back - knowing he wouldn’t be able to get you to realise it wasn’t your fault -and after a little while spoke up:
“Hey, I guess that makes us even now. If you’re really so insistent on saying you were the cause of my pain and almost the loss of my life, then we’re equal.” You took in his words for a minute before suddenly becoming a little angered.
“Is that why you did it?” You sniffled, looking him in the eyes as you drew away, realising your foolish mistake to think he actually cared about you.
“So you felt less guilty? So you wouldn’t feel like you owed me something of some sort?”
“No. No. No, you’ve misunderstood.” He corrected quickly.
“So why did you do it then?” You asked.
Because I’m falling in love with you.
“I did it because it’d be better if I took the pain than anyone else. If my worst enemy was called up I wouldn’t of performed that awful curse. No one deserves it and you certainly don’t either.”

Your hands made their way around his shoulders, kneeling up so you reached above his long torso.
“Thank you Calum. That’s the bravest thing anyone has ever done for me.” you told him.

“It’s the riskiest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

You’d just avoided the trolls club, as spells flew around you ran through rubble, gripping your wand as if your life depended on it, because, well, it did. You apparated up the flight of stairs into the Astronomy Class Room, trying to find the Ravenclaw Diadem amongst the knick-knacks that Professor Trelawny had. That was until you heard an eery group of whispering voices. Whipping around with your wand in your hand, you snapped your head from side to side, searching for those hiding the room with you.
“Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.” The voices repeated, and you peeked around the corner, where the armchairs were and a crystal ball was lighting the room a cloudy grey.

You’d always been told you had the sight. You’d always been told that you had a gift, a talent for Divination but you brushed it off and not wanting to be known as a freak in class, you went for private tutoring lessons.

You knew that you shouldn’t ignore it. If it was calling to you, it obviously held important information.

You sat on the edge of the chair, closing your eyes and holding your hands above it, feeling your soul lift from your body and into the orb.

A crystal ball experience, for those lucky enough to be able to perform them, was much like when one enters a Pensieve; accept instead of showing you visions of the past, memories people have wanted to forget, it shows you prophecies, things yet to happen in the future.

It was the near future, as the Battle of Hogwarts was still continuing. You knew it mustn’t have been another war as you saw Luna and Harry talking to the Ravenclaw House Ghost and Daughter of your House Founder: Helena. You walked around the school, knowing full well you would be safe from being attacked for the reason that 1) no one could see you and 2)any spell or weapon would go right through you.

But then you saw yourself, sprinting across the rubble and flying spells to shove someone down to the ground. You jogged over to see you and Calum pulling each other up from the ground, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Future-You and Calum’s faces were so close your noses could be touching. But Calum pushed you out of the way when a spell flew your way, as Future-You cast a spell to be rid of the Death-Eater.

The words Future-You and Calum were shouting to each other were inaudible, but that was before he pulled you into a kiss. But it was only for a split second second until a red ray flew towards you both and caused Calum to crumple to the ground.

And the next thing you knew, you were looking at Future-You in a full black dress, sitting in front of a coffin, covered by a red cloth bearing the Gryffindor crest; and on top, a single photo of Calum surrounded by flowers.

You were like a statue in the chair, not believing what you just saw. The future right before your eyes.

He’d kissed you. Calum had kissed you. Not you had kissed him, he had kissed you.
But he also died right in front of you. Hitting the ground as mist swirled around you, not giving you time to register the one that performed the curse.

You really had no idea what to do.

But you knew you could save an innocent persons life. It would be at this point that everyone would question your morals. I mean, 6 months ago you could’ve been killed by this person, and now you were trying to stop their death.

But your kiss looked so full of passion, so full of pent up emotions. If only you knew the things you were telling each other before.

Time is dangerous thing to meddle with, you knew that.

But if it meant saving Calum, anything.

If it meant sacrificing your possibility at happiness with him, if it meant sacrificing the rest of your life with him, if it even meant you had to sacrifice yourself for him, you were going to try.

You weren’t just going to let him die when he had so much to live for.

But there was always that possibility. That doubt in the back of your mind. Situations similar to this had occurred before when people have messed around with something as dangerous as fate.

Could it be the actions you’ve decided to take, that are the actions actually leading Calum to his death?

Ahsoka Tano

I’m starting a new Tumblr project for the Star Wars fangirl rebellion of 2015 (viva la fangirl revolution), and I’ve decided to break down, analyze, and explain the roles of the strong female characters of Clone Wars and Rebels and explain why they are empowering and inspirational to those who may not see why.

I figured I should start with none other than Ahsoka Tano, since she is my all time favorite character, and this will serve as my main contribution for Ahsoka Lives Day.

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anonymous asked:

John regularly flies to Gotham to pick Damian up and bring him back to Smallville where they go to the farm and play with all of the animals and end up napping in a pile of farm dogs and hay.

Clark opened the door before his friend even stopped his motorcycle. 

“Fourth time this week.” Bruce grumbled, yanking the helmet off his hair, as Clark descended the porch steps. “I thought you said you were going to talk to him.”

“I could say the same for you.” Clark smiled. “They’re friends. They’re just having fun.”

“It’s called discipline.” Bruce shot back, following Clark regardless, as they crossed the yard, moving towards the barn. 

“It’s called childhood.” Clark returned over his shoulder as he pushed the barn door open. “And how many times have you complained to me that you wished Damian had gotten a proper one?”

Bruce pursed his lips. Crossed his arms as Clark led him through the stalls. “You could at least tell your son to call me when he’s on his way. So I’m at least aware Damian’s getting forcefully kidnapped.”

Forcefully.” Clark snorted, stopping at a stall in the center, and pushing the door gently open, to reveal two sleeping boys, propped up against the flank of a cow, and a calf resting between them. “Helped Jon and me deliver a baby today.” He looked back at Bruce. “We’re happy to have him. Would be happy to have you, if you’d ever let yourself leave that stupid cave.”

Bruce’s mouth relaxed slightly, and he seemed to look almost sad.

“Duty calls.” Bruce whispered, watching as Damian curled tighter into the calf. “You know that.”

“I guess.” Clark hummed, suddenly pulling the gate closed again. “But you better watch yourself, Bruce. Or it won’t just be Jon flying over to kidnap Damian next time.”

Bruce watched Clark walk out of the barn, took one last look at the children, then grinned, and followed after his own friend. “I’d like to see you try, Kent.”

anonymous asked:

oohh here's an AU!drabble/headcanon prompt: How Anakin and Padme raised Luke and Leia. Given Anakin and Padme's very different social and economic backgrounds, I would assume they have different ideas on how to raise the twins.

“Are you crazy? You can’t buy them those!” Anakin said, aghast as he looked at the small outfits hanging from his beloved’s fingers. 

“I don’t see why not. They’re perfectly adorable and the right sizes for them.” Padme responded firmly, looking up at him with a fierce glint in her eyes.

“You don’t - Padme, they cost almost as much as the speeder safety seats! They’re wear them once, get them covered in who knows what, and then we’ll get them more clothes. They’re a waste of money!” Anakin protested. Surely she wasn’t serious about these, who would pay that much for baby clothes? 

“Ani, we’re not strapped for money, we can afford to - “ She started to say, her tone soft and calming, but he cut her off almost immediately. 

“I realize that, but I still can’t justify spending so many credits on outfits that will only be worn one time! By babies, who will get them torn and messy so we can’t even donate them afterwards. Absolutely not.” Anakin said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. Padme glared at him and Anakin felt his knees weaken at the sight, but he would hold firm! 

“I don’t have to have your permission to buy things for my babies.” She said and Anakin hated it when she was mad at him. He also hated it when she claimed the twins as just hers, like he hadn’t had anything to do with them at all, but knew that was his own hang-ups coming to the foreground. 

“It’s our money, isn’t it?” Anakin asked quietly, unfolding his arms. They shouldn’t be having this conversation here. A flash of understanding and regret passed through Padme and her gaze softened.

“It is, yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just….they’re so cute and the twins would look adorable. Luke would like the bright colors and Leia would like the fact that the skirt makes that scratchy sound when she takes it off. We could take holos, that way it didn’t seem like we were just throwing the money away? I’m sure Bail and Breha would love more images of the twins and Obi-Wan is always looking for more…” She said, compromising and trying to see where Anakin was coming from. 

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Fic: Good Cop, Bad Cop

A Chris Evans One-shot (featuring daddy!chris)

Thanks for reading!! xx



And there it was. Natalia refrained from sighing, hearing her daughter use her sugary sweet voice in order to properly persuade her husband into giving in. She had just told her no, for her to go wash up for dinner instead of giving permission for her and her siblings to use the markers on their new coloring books. This was a reoccurring thing. Whenever she had denied one of the kids’ requests, they then turned to Chris, as if what she had said meant nothing at all.

“What’s up, baby girl?” Chris asked, grabbing the stack of dishes from the cupboard to set the dinner table.

Hadley bounced from foot to foot and twisted her fingers together. “Can we, um, use the good markers to color?”

Natalia waited in silence, pretending to be engrossed with the salad she was tossing together. She knew where this was going, expecting the same outcome as always from years and years of parenting with him. He was the good cop and she was the bad cop.

“I don’t know, babe,” he said, counting the six plates before reiterating what Natalia had told their daughter moments prior. “Dinner’s going to be ready soon.”

Hadley folded her bottom lip over her top. “Pleeeeeease.”

Chris chuckled, looking down at her adorable face. How could he say no? Playfully tugging on her french braid with his free hand, he asked with raised brows, “Well, are they the washable ones?”

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The Valley of the End: Chapter Eight

Summary: There is a place where two legends once fought, a valley that saw their lifeblood spilled. And in Konoha there is a monument, a stone face shaped out of the golden bluff, which honors the champion—the Second Hokage: Uchiha Madara. (AU in which the Uchiha rule Konoha. SasuSaku. NaruHina.)

Rating: Mature

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Chapter Eight

We accept the love we think we deserve.

Winter turns to spring, spring to summer. Sakura and Sasuke retake the chunin exams, which are held in the Mist, and they both get promoted. On their last night in Kiri they sneak downstairs to the inn’s common room. It’s dark and deserted at this hour, and they sit on the floor by the hearth, enjoying the warmth of the flickering firelight.

Sasuke looks impossibly handsome, even with his features cast half in shadow. Now that it’s past midnight, today is his fourteenth birthday, but Sakura has nothing to give him. She tells him this, apologetic and embarrassed, but he cuts her off, saying, “Don’t worry about it. I have everything I want—well, almost everything.”

There’s an honesty in the way he looks at her, with such sudden hunger, that tells Sakura he’s thinking of her. She’s the one thing Sasuke wants that he doesn’t have, and she’d need to be a fool not to notice.

In the months since the Festival of Lights, the night he called her beautiful, there have been dozens of small incidents like this. When Sasuke’s touch or gaze was overly familiar, or lingered for seconds too long. Always in private, he makes sure these things happen away from prying eyes and judgment, so that they’re safe from repercussions. They’ve put forth the effort to make more time alone together, so that they can savor these stolen moments, like tonight.

Sakura knows she shouldn’t, but she leans against Sasuke and kisses his cheek. It’s a darting show of affection, over almost as quickly as it began, and just perfunctory enough for her to pretend it’s purely platonic.

Except Sasuke doesn’t seem interested in pretending. He runs his fingers through her hair, almost a caress, and the sensation sends a shiver through her. He’s a boy who is used to getting whatever he desires, whether it’s a cup of amazake or a girl, and she understands well enough that Sasuke might want her simply because she’s a challenge, because she’s forbidden. But it’s hard to care about his reasons when he’s looking at her like this.

He closes the space between them, until there’s only a breath separating their lips, but then he just presses his forehead to hers and whispers, “Sakura.”

The way he says her name, full of so much need, makes her heart beat harder beneath her breast. Sasuke cradles the back of her head and kisses her cheek, almost the same way she kissed him moments ago. Except this touch is slower and warmer and so close to the corner of her mouth that she feels herself blush.

Sakura can’t help it; she presses her lips to his, swallows the warmth of his gasp. Sasuke is utterly still for a long moment, but then he pulls her into his arms and kisses her back. It’s closed-mouthed and soft, as chaste as a kiss can be, really, but it’s the sweetest thing Sakura has ever known. She winds her arms around his back, lets herself melt against him, so that her small breasts are pressed against his chest, and kisses him more fiercely.

They stay this way for what could be minutes or hours, until Sasuke finally breaks away from her and says, breathless, “We should stop.”

“Why?” Sakura asks, too drunk on the taste of him to think clearly.

“You know why,” he says.

Of course she does. Sasuke belongs to someone else, and slumming it with her won’t change that.

They return to their respective beds, but Sakura doesn’t sleep for even a minute. Her mind is too full of Sasuke for rest.

The next day, on the boat that takes the Konoha shinobi back to the Fire Country, Sakura is so tired that she spends most of her time asleep in the cabin she shares with Masami. Her friend wakes her for dinner and says, “You must have been up late last night.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep,” Sakura says, and she looks anywhere besides at Masami.

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The Best Wife I Can Be

It’s 4:15 and the house looks lovely. The best part is that I’m ahead of schedule with enough time to finish up dinner and take one last look in the mirror before he arrives. Everything must be perfect!

By 6:00pm my husband will walk through the door and find his devoted wife in his cozy home ready to tend the many guest we’ll be having. At last, I feel that after many years I have become the woman I’ve only dreamt of being.

I by no means refer to perfection, but by recognizing my errors and amending my ways has been a huge step for me, or any girl, who wishes to be the girl of any man’s dreams. I can only describe it as an intuitive desire we carry since young and is guided by love, rules, and discipline.

I like to think it’s natural but certainly my mother had much to do with my desires to be a loving and submissive wife as she was. My father always had the final word and neither mom nor the kids would question him (unless we girls were eager to get a sore bottom). By the way, I do mean we as us and my mom. It was no secret she was spanked by dad. My best guess is that they wanted us to see and adapt their lifestyle as our way of life rather than setting it as odd or abuse. Either way we never questioned it. All we knew was that mommy was spanked like my sisters and I were when we failed to meet dads expectations.

I know many reading this may see my father as some tyrant, but honestly we knew he always heard our concerns and he wished the best for us. There was never any doubt of that.

It was just how life was in our small religious community with its traditional values, roles, and morals. Father was the head of the house and our mother and children submitted to his authority. Both boys and girls were raised to fill in the same roles once they were older.

Thus, my sisters and I were no strangers to the tasks my mother did as both a mom and a wife. I being the oldest helped with my younger brothers and sisters, and helped with cleaning of the house. It was busy but I valued every moment of it.

Father had expectations from us all, the boys helped with outside work and at times helped us with heavier tasks. Having different rules also meant different consequences for not meeting up to them. For the boys, this usually meant more work and loss of special privileges such as going out with friends or watching television. As for the girls, this meant spankings.

It seemed like the popular belief at the time that girls being much more emotional and physically weak than boys. Therefore girls responded well to spankings at any age. A young girl’s or grown woman’s pride can be broken into submission with her bottom bared and spanked with any hand or object. I’m in no position to state this as a universal truth, but I can say it certainly sparked every feminine desire within me which is often described as being kind, gentle, loving, and submissive. In our community a girl is under the care of her father and someday will be under the care and responsibility of her husband.

This was clearly illustrated to us in the way our father dealt with mom when she neglected her chores or was openly rude to father or anyone for some unjustifiable reason. When daddy saw a teaching moment he’d invite my sisters and I to his room to see how a misbehaving wife is dealt with.

Father usually used a belt, at least in the spankings I witnessed. Mom’s spankings were not much different from ours. First, she’d be sent into their room where she’d stand facing the door with her hands behind her back not saying a word. After giving her some time to reflect on her actions dad would invite the girls in the house to join him and mom at the room and we’d quietly line up against the wall.

Father then would sit on the bed and have her face him and he’d tell her what she did wrong, what is expected of her, and her consequence.

I could always relate to her not just as my female role model but by the way she always responded to these discipline sessions. Both her and I would always cry during the lecture before the spanking even started. It was mixed feelings of guilt, fear, and anticipation of a sore bottom.

Father would stand and guide her to the edge of the bed where she laid her elbows flat and he’d lift her skirt and pull down her panties.

It sounds cliche, but really a girl wearing anything other than skirts or dresses was unheard of. Surely, any girl who wore anything other than skirts and dresses was rebelling against the natural order of men and women. For us girls, wearing a skirt was always definitely a reminder to always be in our best behavior because a girls skirt can easily be lifted any time or anyplace for a proper spanking.

By the time my mothers panties were around her ankles her tears were rushing down her cheeks. Then father lifted his arm to gain momentum and lower his arm to swiftly to get the loud sound of mom’s bottom being hit by his belt. Gradually he increased his strength each sound a cry getting louder and louder.

The woman bending across the bed was no different from us. She’d slightly moved her bottom after ever spank to try to ease the pain. She cried out loud and apologized for her wrongdoings and promised it wouldn’t happen again.

Of course, we knew from a young age this was unlikely because if there’s something we learned from watching my mother spanked was that sooner or later we would be spanked again for something we’ve been spanked for before. Why? Perhaps because no punishment in the world may perfect us but can remind us of our place and expectations. Perhaps it is from this idea that I was inspired, not to be the perfect wife, because I can’t be, but to be the best wife I can be. Thus I knew, that neither I nor my sisters will ever be to old to be spanked.

After father finished spanking my mother she stood with a red sobbing face. A burning red bottom. Mother would then lift her face to look at us with messy hair and her panties still around her ankles. Humiliated but with conviction she apologized for being a bad example as a wife, mother, as a woman. She confessed her faults to us and warned us to be good. She then turned to my father and thanked him for his love, for his correction, for his guidance he provides. Her apology was accepted without any look of disappointment on my daddy’s face. He welcomed her into his arms, kissed her, and declared his love for her.

I secretly envied every moment hoping someday I too can find a loving and caring husband. That is why every time I misbehaved or neglected my responsibilities I accepted my spankings knowing every hit my bottom received prepared me to be the best wife I can be.


Eugene Tong is Details Magazine’s style director. The restrained palette of his clothes reveals discipline and maturity I wish I had. There are apparently ways to make black, grey, navy and khaki look dynamic. I’ll look at my basics with fresh eyes now.  

His wrinkles and crow’s feet though make me glad I moisturise and stay away from the sun.

But yes, it’s so refreshing that he’s not one of those #menswear-loving fashion editors. Suits, brogues and bowties – à la Nick Wooster – are hilariously passé.    

Straying Across the Path - a DaiSuga fanfic

Title: Straying Across the Path
Characters: Suga, Daichi, Yui, Hina (an OC) and a special guest appearance by Luna the dog.
Rating: Teen and Up
Warning: bit of swearing. 
Word Count: 6802
A/N: This is for sherryandgin because it was her birthday and I didn’t know, so I was emptyhanded. Jo was one of my first haikyuu friends and got me hooked on daisuga. She used to send me filthy headcanons about them which i had to read through my hands.

One of the headcanons is here. It was immortalised by some fantastic art by Alex i-like-to-look-at-your-back who was also responsible for Suga becoming a Potter geek in my head. 

Also on A03 - if you prefer reading there. 

Summary: Sometimes Suga wasn’t sure what was worse. Being in love with your best friend who was oblivious, or being in love with your best friend who was not only oblivious but also completely unobtainable.

With Daichi occupied with his girlfriend, Hina, Suga has time on his hands, so falls back on an old standby to cheer himself up. It’s a Saturday and marathoning the Harry Potter films is all he wants to do, even if he is alone.

It was a cold day, which was why Suga, having forgotten his scarf and gloves, decided to have his lunch inside. With a niggling thigh strain, he’d been advised to take a rest from practise for a week, so slouching up in his jacket, he made his way to the cafeteria. There’d be no one there, not any of his friends anyway, but that didn’t matter because he preferred sitting alone.

He ordered soup, hot and spicy, and hearty enough to warm him through because despite being inside, he was cold to his bones these days.

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