#This will only be open for about a week or a little longer

[princesssmars]

so...we can all agree vi is an ass girl, right?

modern!au. 18+ content ahead. post contains lesbian sex and dry humping. inspired by this video from love and deepspace. i didnt know they got down like that. wc : 3.081.

she didn't show it often before, but lately violet could quickly become so achingly desperate for you.

she didn't show it often, but violet could become so achingly desperate.

at the start of your relationship, she tried to play off her need for you in a casual way, brushing it off as just being a very attentive girlfriend. you never had a problem with, always open and accepting of whatever little bits of attention she would give to you.

but then one day she slips, and she can feel your dynamic shift as soon as it happens.

she was away visiting her family for the holidays, body snugly tucked under the covers in her childhood bed as she held her phone above her face. the house was quiet, the air was cold, and she was having an internal battle with the reasonable part of her that told her to call it a night and drift off to sleep already...

and then there was the other side. the one that suddenly brings to her attention the steady heat that’s been building beneath her stomach after you sent the prettiest photo of you all dolled up in your parent’s guest bathroom. the one that made her bite her lip as she observed every inch of you through the screen before instantly liking the photo and sending back a flirty message. the one that now gravitated her fingers to calling your phone in the middle of the night and hoping and praying you’d pick up, nearly breathing a sigh of relief when you did.

"vi? are you alright?"

loaded question, she thinks to herself. in perfect health? of course. of sound mind? debatable, but for the most part yes. alright? no, definitely not at the moment.

"yeah, yeah, i’m alright princess. just wanted to talk to you."

"aww, you're such a sweetie. how'd i get so lucky, huh?"

and yes, she does appreciate and silently adore the sweet sentiment. but the sound of you cooing at her with just the tiniest hint of a rasp in your voice from tiredness only cements her fate, having to use all of the rational energy she has left to stop whimpering.

"tell me how your trips been. wanna hear your voice for a little longer."

"no problem. well im fine, everyone here is good. besides my aunt nat, she's still moody because no one allowed her in the kitchen again-"

you go on about your family and their shenanigans, and she cant help but quietly laugh along when you giggle about some of the stories and memories you've made. but the 'conversation' takes a turn when you start to talk about her.

"you know i miss you, right?"

she feels a subtle pang in her chest, half longing and half desire. "oh yeah?"

"yeah. rolled over in bed this morning and kept trying to find you till i realized where i was. it's weird not waking up with you."

she hums, hoping you cant hear her stuttered breaths through the receiver. she doesn't know why hearing about you subconsciously looking for her embrace is what does it for her, but she can only give a short response as one of her hands trails down into boxers.

"wish i could've been there with you, baby."

"mmm, me too. missed your warmth, swear you're like my own personal heater. wish you could be here with me now."

her breathing stops and her eyebrows raise. "oh yeah?"

"yeah. missed your hands, too."

fuck, fuck fuck fuck. she's taken off guard, mind racing at your words and tone and before she knows it she has two fingers stuffed inside of herself while she quietly whimpers for you to keep talking to her.

"fuck, just a little more baby, please, 'm so close-"

"aww, you're such a good girl for me, aren't you violet?"

she swears she bites her lip so hard it nearly bleeds when she cums, walls clenching around her fingers and eyes rolling back into her head as she reaches her peak while you talk her through it.

the next week when she picks you up from the airport she can see it, a glimmer in your eye and quick in your smile that wasn't there before. she tries to ignore it when she pulls you in for a long-awaited embrace but then she just gets so enveloped in your warmth, your smell, the feeling of your body pressed hers. she's only yanked out of her lovestruck stupor when you whisper a sly little comment in her ear about how long and tight she's been holding you.

"call me crazy but if i didnt know any better i'd say you're feeling a little desperate for me."

so the cats out of the bag. she's super attached to you, so what? it's not like you ever complained about it, instead constantly using her neediness to your advantage to get what you want from her. you'll likely never have to beg and convince her to get up from bed to change the thermostat again, only needing to graze your hand across her chest and press a lingering kiss to the space beneath her chin before she's leaping out of bed and speedwalking down the hall.

and don't even get her started on her libido. the both of you had an amazing sex life already, able to almost instinctually tell what brought the other the most mindblowing pleasure possible. but ever since that night, it's like her desire for you only increased tenfold, barely able to go a day without getting her hands on you or vice versa.

it only reached a head when you decided to truly test her limits.

she had taken up a later shift to help out loris who had a date, which meant by the time she returned home she was too tuckered out to have her way with you. but during times like these, she could always count on the early morning sun waking her up just in the rich window of time for morning sex. but when the light rays peek through her bedroom window and she uses her arm to pull you closer she finds you absent, your side of the bed cold.

after a brief search through the house, she opened her text messages just to find your sent a sweet text only an hour before she’d woken up to tell her your friends had invited you on a last minute girls day around the city the night before, and you didn’t want to wake her from her sleep since she seemed exhausted when she got home.

vi groans and falls back into the pillows, lousily texting you back a short message to tell you she loves you and hopes you have fun with your friends. she’ll be alright, she can go a few more hours without you near.

but only an hour later after she’s showered and eaten a quick breakfast she feels the ache start to build in her chest, eyes darting up to the clock on the wall and groaning when realizes just how long this day is going to feel.

everything she tries to do to keep her mind off of you fails miserably. doing chores? she's thinking back on the time when the both of you first split up household duties when you moved in together, feeling giddy at sharing something so menial with the girl she was enamored with. making herself a protein shake for the gym? now she's stuck in a daydream about all the times you've been in this kitchen together, sharing sweet baked goods and sweeter kisses as you settle into domestic bliss.

she has got to get out of the house.

jayce understood her problem as soon as she called inviting her down to the gym for a few hours to work off any ‘pent-up energy’ she’s currently... unable to get out in her preferred method.

it works for a while, the familiar smell of sweat and the slight ache in her muscles grounding her back into reality as she makes casual gym talk with jayce. she's just starting to feel like the absence of you is off of her mind when she hears your text notification on her phone, accidentally leaving her place as jayces spotter to open up her phone.

as soon as her brain registers that you’ve sent her pictures she makes up some lame excuse to get to the bathroom, tuning out her friend's groan of disapproval as she speed walks to the restrooms and locks herself in one of the stalls.

the first few messages are sweet, little selfies of you and your friends as you enjoy your day together as you get some sweet treats together at one of the malls concession stands. a lovesick smile involuntarily grows on her face, always happy to see you smiling and enjoying yourself with the people who care about you. but her eyes start to squint when you start to send pictures of you trying on various outfits from some of the outlet stores, posing demurely in front of the trying room mirrors.

but then her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when suddenly shes getting photos of you in her vagina's favorite enemy - lingerie.

even before vi started acting so eager about your body, it wasn't hard for you to catch on to the fact that the woman was so clearly an ass girl. even on five hands, you wouldn't be able to count the number of times you’d caught her staring or sneaking small glances at your behind, not to mention how she thought she was being discreet about her affection for it with the numerous times she’d slap it when walking by you. she tried to laugh it off when you brought it up in conversation, assuring you that she loved each and every part of you and could never pick a favorite.

but now you were determined to really see how much she wanted you, using every dirty trick in the book you could think of. she feels her face get hot as she looks down at her phone, the image of you in lacy lingerie, back facing the mirror as the magenta fabric (nearly the same shade as her hair, jesus christ,) stretches across the swell of your ass and crisis crosses across your back.

her brain short circuits. before she can think about it she’s saving the pictures to her phone and calling you at the speed of light.

“hey, violet. how’s your day?”

“you are so… evil. amazing and beautiful and evil.”

your giggle rings through the receiver, melodic and teasing. “what's the problem? you don't like the set?”

“don’t even joke. when are you getting home?”

“mmm not till late, the girls wanted to go to a club tonight.”

“oh you’ve got to be kidding me-”

“do you want me to send you the address?”

vi hasn't been to a nightclub in months, at first harshly avoiding the hard party scene in favor of her sobriety before feeling no need to indulge in the party scene once her life became more stable, especially after she met you. but she never stopped you from going out and having fun with your friends, tagging along once in a blue moon to sip on a mocktail while she chatted up the bartender and stared at your ass while you danced.

tonight was an extremely necessary blue moon.

the air is hot, and the feel of her drink burns her throat as vi waits at the bar, blue eyes wide and aware as she stares at the club’s crowded entrance like it owes her money. the bartender asks if she’s alright, scared she’s waiting for someone to arrive to jump them before she assures them she’s fine. they slowly nod and get back to making drinks, nearly dropping a glass out of fright when she slams her glass on the bar and quickly makes her way over to you.

if she wasn't so laser-focused on finally getting her hands on you she might've been a little cocky at the fact that you look like you were about to salivate at the sight of her, knowing she made the right decision to wear the tight pants she knew you loved on her. in only a second she’s got her hands settled on your waist, not caring that your friends are laughing at her clear excitement over seeing you in your club outfit, a tiny dress so she can see the wide expanse of your legs, your arms, your shoulder - fuck, the straps of the pink bra aren’t even hidden by the strapless dress-

“wanna dance with me?” your voice is nothing short of flirtatious, and you already know your answer by the way you start to walk past her to the dance floor, already predicting how she follows you like she’s on a leash.

as the both of you grind and dance in the middle of the club every thought racing through vi’s head is centered on you, physically and mentally unable to focus on anything else when she finally has you so close again after what felt like years. she feels a familiar sense of euphoria when her palms glide up and down your waist, smirking to herself when she feels you shudder when her hands reach up to cup and discreetly squeeze your breasts. she’s feeling happy about finally starting to turn the tables back on you before you arch your back into her, your ass pressing into her as your hand reaches up to her head, nails dusting along her cheek before reaching into her hair and pulling.

it’s only to be expected that that’s her breaking point, dragging you through the dancing bodies and into the back of the building until she can find anywhere to get you alone, thanking any god that exists above that she finds an open storage closet and drags you inside, pressing you face first towards the door. a little voice in her head reminds her not to be too rough with you, but it’s quickly silenced when she sees just how much you crave it, how your back is yet again arching and your hands are clenching into fists from their places on the wooden door.

it's nice, to remember that you want her as much as she wants you.

in only a few seconds she’s given into it, pressing you further into the door by pressing her body against yours and grinding her crotch into the fat of your ass, eyes lidded and head dropping to rest on your shoulder from the rush of pleasure she feels below.

“vi, oh my god-” your voice is light and airy, every word almost choked out as you struggle to prevent yourself from moaning out and alerting every person in the bar about what the two of you were up to.

“i know, fuck, I know, baby. i just-” she cuts herself off with a groan when she lets her hand travel down your front and under your dress to your panties, face running hot when she feels just how wet you’ve gotten. she’s all but rushing to ruche up your dress, mind going fuzzy yet again at seeing the pink fabric covering your ass and how it feels under her when she begins humping you yet again.

“nngh, knew it. knew you were an ass girl.” you giggle.

“god, please stop talking-”

whatever snarky little comment you were going to make dies in your throat when her arm comes up and around your neck to hold your jaw, turning your head around and smashing her lips onto yours. you whimper and moan into her mouth, violet greedily eating the noises of your pleasure as she takes you up against the door.

you pull back for a few seconds to catch your breath, both of your eyes drifting to the thin trail of saliva connecting your lips together.

she can feel it, then. an almost electric charge that runs form her body into yours. you lean into her touch, arch into her further like you’re trying ot merge your bodies into one. when her other hand tightens around the pushed-up fabric of your dress and she gets that absolutely adorable scrunch between her eyebrows you know what she’s asking, and you gently nod your head.

and so she presses her lips back to yours, her crotch further into your ass, and rides you in the cramped nightclub storage closet. she's grateful that you seem to be enjoying it just as much as she is, her mind completely focused on getting closer and closer to her peak. she can feel it building quickly, a growing heat below her stomach reach to burst at any moment. all it takes is you, sucking on her tongue before mumbling muffled words into her mouth begging for her to finish against you. she cums with a stifled moan into your mouth, only amplified when she feels you shudder and go loose in the legs beneath her.

you’re both panting, sweaty, and tired as you stare at each other. it’s a comfortable silence as you help each other adjust - vi fixing your dress and you attempting to put her hair back in her signature style.

“so,” your voice lilts up as vi’s busy fixing her jacket, debating if she wants to take it off to cool down or not, knwoing she’ll probably just wrap it around your arms outside anyway. “you gonna admit it yet?”

she rolls her eyes, looking at you with an exasperated but fond look in her eyes that makes your stomach flip. “you just love being proven right, don’t you?”

“absolutely.”

“fine, you were right. are you happy?”

“very. now, let’s go home annnd maybe,” your fingers hook into the loops of her pants and tug her closer,”you can show me a little more just how much you need me, yeah?”

maybe, vi would show her neediness for you more often. just a little.

[burningembers91]

All of You - Park Min-Su x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

The Secretary Lunch Date Awards Night Overtime The Taste of You

Synopsis: Desperate to show you that he loves you, Park Min-Su showers you in gifts. But the only thing you really want is him

Park Min-Su was head over in heels in love. Ever since that night in your apartment, he felt like he was walking on air. You were perfection personified, everything about you a dream come true. He walked a little taller, his head held a little higher, content in the knowledge that you wanted him, and he wanted you.

His father had him working almost relentlessly in the office to prepare for a meeting, and it meant Min-Su hadn’t had much time to see you outside of work. He had to make do with stolen kisses in his office, your floral perfume enveloping him as you draped yourself over his lap while he sat in his office chair. He was so in love with you, so in awe of you, but he had no idea how to express the way he felt.

His parent’s marriage was one based on convenience rather than mutual affection. His mother’s family were rich and influential, and it was a marriage based on strengthening their empires. Min-Su was sure he’d never seen a flicker of affection pass between his parents, and he often wondered how they’d stood each other’s company for long enough to make him. There were no words of affection, no looks of love or sweet kisses between them. They stayed as far away from each other as possible, interacting only when entirely necessary. Min-Su didn’t know how to express his feelings towards you, so chose to shower you with gifts.

Every day something would arrive at the office for you: flowers, jewellery, a pair of shoes made by a brand he knew you liked. Each gift was more extravagant than the last, and he never got tired of seeing the look on your face when you opened them. “You don’t need to do all this,” you smiled, unwrapping a custom-made perfume he’d designed especially. “But I want to,” Min-Su insisted. “You’re worth it.” You could see he was trying, but what you really wanted was to spend more time with him. You’d barely had five minutes to yourselves in the last few weeks, and you were craving more of him. Ever since that night in your apartment, he hadn’t left your head. Min-Su treated you better than anyone ever had, and you found yourself desperate for more. You were finding it hard to admit that your feelings for him were more than physical, so used to being used and then thrown away when you no longer served a purpose. You couldn’t help but wonder whether Min-Su was using you, using you to teach him things before he moved on to a new girl. But deep down you knew he wasn’t like that; he was different from anyone you’d been with before.

“What would you like instead?” he asked, desperate to know what it was that he could do to please you. “Just spend time with me,” you smiled, spritzing some of the vanilla and tonka scented spray on your neck. The smell was heavenly; he’d somehow managed to capture your essence in a single scent and it matched you perfectly. “Tonight,” he said, almost begged. “Tonight. Let’s do something. Whatever you want.”

“Take me for dinner,” you told him, “and then I want you to take me back to my apartment, and I want you to fuck me.”

Min-Su groaned as you said the words, pulling you down onto his lap. He’d thought of nothing but making love to you, of hearing you moan for him again. His lips met yours, his hands trailing up your waist and across the soft contours of your breasts. He was getting more confident with you, taking charge a little more. You loved it when he kissed you, his hands softly gripping the nape of your neck so he could tilt your head back. Around you, the Min-Su who was scared of his own shadow was gone, replaced by a confident man who knew what he wanted. You only wished that bravery extended to his family and colleagues, but Min-Su hadn’t made it that far yet.

That night, he pulled out all the stops, taking you to the best sushi place in Seoul, ordering the most expensive champagne and cocktails. He wanted to tell you how he felt so many times, but he could never seem to find the right words. He’d never had anyone tell him they loved him before, and he’d never said the words either. Up until you, he had been sure love was something made up. But you made his stomach flip, his heart sing and whenever he was with you, everything just seemed to make sense. You looked especially beautiful tonight, the soft glow of the lighting above the table illuminating your features. Min-Su couldn’t wait to get you home, couldn’t wait to finally know what it would feel like to have all of you.

You walked back to your apartment, the city streets buzzing with the busy Friday night crowds. You were so wrapped up in each other, you barely noticed the sea of people around you. Min-Su clasped your hand in his, wondering how he’d gone so long without you. He couldn’t understand how his parents stayed together when they didn’t feel anything for each other. What he felt for you was so strong, so raw, and he couldn’t fathom the fact that his parents didn’t have that. You were everything he’d ever wanted, and he hoped you felt the same.

Arriving back at your apartment, Min-Su felt that all too familiar pang of nerves as you opened the door. He wanted to please you, to make you feel good, and there was always a little voice in the back of his head telling him he might get it wrong. He helped you take your coat off, hanging it on the hook by your door. It never ceased to amaze you how caring he was, how he looked after you in the smallest of ways. “Come here,” he whispered, pulling you into him, his fingers gently brushing up the soft skin of your arms. He kissed you, relishing in the little moans of affection that fell from your lips. “I want you,” you breathed, your fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. You’d started this relationship being the one in charge, but tonight you felt entirely at his mercy. His hand cupped your chin, his lips trailing over your cheeks and jaw. He’d learned so much from you already, and tonight he wanted to put it into practice.

Leading him to your bedroom, you sat down on the soft mattress, taking in Min-Su’s toned torso that peaked through the opening in his shirt. Your hand reached up to take his, gently pulling him down next to you. You could feel him shaking, could hear his breath hitch as his hand brushed against your thigh. “Take off your dress,” he told you, savouring the moan that fell from your lips at his order. You liked this bossier side of him, enjoyed seeing him taking the reins for once. You did as you were told, standing up and letting the soft, silky fabric fall to the floor.

Min-Su would never get enough of your body, your soft curves sheer perfection. He pulled you down onto his lap, tracing the outline of your breasts with the pads of his fingers. He pinched your sensitive nipple in between his thumb and forefinger, smiling as you moaned again for him. He liked having you needy for him, enjoyed using his hands to make you feel good. He could feel how wet you wet, the fabric of your underwear damp with your arousal. As much as he wanted to tease you tonight, he needed you, needed all of you and he couldn’t wait anymore.

His lips met yours, hungry and desperate as he unzipped his jeans. You pulled his shirt from his shoulders, his lithe, taut body warm against yours. Lying back for him, you spread your legs, and for a moment, Min-Su saw stars. “We can take it slow,” you smiled, mistaking his adoration of you for nervousness. “I don’t want to take it slow,” he whispered, “I want to show you how much I love you.”

You stared up at him, shock etched on your face. No one had ever said that to you before, no one had ever cared about you the way Min-Su had. “I love you,” he whispered again, his hands trailing down across your spread thighs. His thumb pressed gently onto your clit, your moan the sweetest sound as he whispered those three words to you again. Now that he’d told you how he felt, Min-Su would make sure he whispered those words to you every day. “I love you too,” you smiled, pulling his body down on top of you. You helped guide him inside of you, the guttural groan he made as he entered you lighting the fire deep within your belly.

You moved slowly together, Min-Su clinging to you as he got lost in the sensation. You were so tight, so warm, your walls clenching him so deliciously he forgot to breathe. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pushing him further inside of you as he cried out at the overwhelming sensation. He knew he wouldn’t last long, not when you felt this good. “Min-Su,” you whispered his name, knowing it drove him crazy. “You feel so good. Harder, I need it harder.”

He planted his hands either side of your head, thrusting fast and deep into you. You cried out, your moans his undoing. He told you that he loved you as he came, painting your tight, wet walls with every last drop of himself. “Stay with me?” you asked him as he collapsed next to you, waiting for your breathing to return to normal. “Always,” he whispered, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

He made love to you over and over again that night, drawing your pleasure out until you begged for a release. You’d given him so much over the last few months, and now it was Min-Su’s time to return the favour. He would make sure you never wanted for anything, would ensure that every day you knew how much he cared for you. He refused to be like his parents, to simply exist alongside someone.

You were the only thing that mattered to him now; not his job, or the company, or the life his father wanted him to lead. Somehow, he had to find the courage to start living for himself, to make a life for the two of you. He wasn’t sure how he’d find the guts to stand up to a man he’d feared his entire life, but he needed to start being brave.

If he wanted to make a life with you, he had to break the chains he’d father had placed him in and start building something new with you.

[wyattjohnston]

just between you and me - cole caufield

summary: you return to montreal after some time abroad and it unleashes a whole new slew of questions.

word count: 3,325

note: this is for @lam-ila for The Winter Fic Exchange 2k25! i hope you like it maleeha <3 thank you to @comphy-and-cozy and for all your help!!

main character: feminine reader insert

The windowpane offers a nice reprieve from the chaotic warmth being produced by seemingly everybody you’ve ever known being invited to your welcome back party. It’s well below freezing which isn’t at all unusual for Montreal, and—you’ll never admit this out loud—sitting next to the window is the closest you’re going to get to outside. Belgium had been utterly tropical in comparison and you’re ashamed by how quickly the Montreal weather became too much. The crowd of people sitting on the balcony are, quite frankly, out of their minds.

“Don’t think you should be sitting over here by yourself.”

You move your attention from the group outside to the person who just joined you, smiling gently when you realise who it is followed by a just as gentle, “Hi, Cole.”

The confusion across his face is clear and it lasts longer than just a passing second, before he’s saying your name back to you in such a questioning manner that you start to wonder if you’ve somehow been wrong all these years.

He shuffles further into the booth opposite you, leaning all his body weight onto his forearms and the table between them, and says emphatically, “No fucking way.”

You understand his reaction somewhat, knowing that the semester spent in Belgium had been eye opening and experimental, but you can only shrug at him because visibly all that’s changed about you that night is that you’ve put on some makeup and worn something a little tighter than you used to.

“You look—” he pauses, and you sigh to yourself because you know what’s coming next. “You look great. Belgium really did a number on you, eh?”

“Sure, you could put it that way.”

The compliment is nice, regardless, so you take it at face value and put your own arms on the table, leaning in towards him. He grins, toothy and all encompassing, and you’re shunted back to the small crush you’ve always had on him. It’s not anything that takes over your life; sometimes you’re not even sure it’s anything more than the thought that he’s available, but it’s enough to send butterflies into your stomach.

He tells you to stay put, and you do as you’re told even if you’re contorting yourself in your seat to see exactly where he’s gone and what he’s up to. The drink he brings back to you is what he knows as your favourite; you thank him for the soft drink, even if that’s also something that changed while you were away.

You can’t say you’re surprised when, a couple days later, you get a text from Cole asking when you’re next free which is quickly followed by another text with the days he’s free that week.

Hanging out with Cole wasn’t uncommon, though it was typically part of a larger group. It’s not explicit that this is one-on-one in any way other than Cole being the one to initiate and organise; he always left that to someone else and just showed up wherever the people were.

You leave them on your Lock Screen for most of the day and wait until the Habs game is over that night to text him back—whilst you wouldn’t give him the quick response he was undoubtedly after, there’s no way you’re going to put yourself in the position to wait by texting him mid-game.

The text you send reads “that depends what we’re doing” and it’s not until the read receipt pops up and you read it back that you realise it probably sounds quite flirty. It’s not not the message you were trying to convey but your palms get a little sweaty when it really kicks in that the flood gates have just been opened.

Cole’s unbridled joy is conveyed through his texts—the win probably doing some heavy lifting there—and the abundance of exclamation marks. Though, truthfully, they might not be that uncommon for Cole.

“We can go bowling!! Or ice skating!! Or you can come over??!!”

It’s endearing if not a little overwhelming.

Ice skating is the pick, and you can’t help but laugh at the idea of him using his day off to do more skating. It was his suggestion, and he doesn’t seem bothered by it, so you don’t bring it up at all.

He helps with your skates even though you’re more than capable; he just kneels down in front of you and starts lacing them up before you can even begin to tighten them yourself. He does look cute when he smiles up at you proudly, so you don’t have it in you to fight it.

Cole is holding your hand the moment you’re stepping onto the ice. You know how to skate and he knows you know how, so it’s not a tight, steadying grip. In fact, it’s having the opposite effect as your knees get weak because even through two pairs of thick, winter gloves you can feel every part of his hand against yours.

On the ice you can hear a guy yapping at his poor date about how good he was at hockey, how he could have gone pro, but he decided it was better for him to go to university and get a real job because of some made up reason that trailed off before he really finished his sentence. You couldn’t hide your laugh at it all, a full-bodied snort that drew the attention of the couple, so you curled into Cole to try and pretend it was something he’d said.

It did end up being Cole who was making you laugh, when he leant in closer whilst he kept you moving across the ice to repeat the guy’s ridiculous claims. The hockey bro voice he was putting on—or maybe just playing up—really sent you over the edge, and you had to hold onto him to keep upright as your laughter got to a point where breathing was problematic.

Being pulled effortlessly around the rink by Cole was something. It certainly wasn’t making it any easier to breathe, and even less so when you were able to gather some bearings and make eye contact with him. You weren’t sure anyone had ever looked at you with such softness and sincerity; you had to look away.

It’s so cliché when you step off the ice to get hot chocolate that you have no choice but to sit opposite him and ask him a question that’s been on your mind all day.

“Is this your go-to first date?”

“It’s…” he pauses briefly, sheepish. “It’s in the rotation, yeah. Seasonal. You’re my favourite.”

You avert eye contact, staring at your hands where they’re wrapped around the source of warmth that is your cup. Cole’s foot nudging against yours doesn’t do a lot to help keep your voice steady because your mind has conjured up an image of Cole and the poor date from earlier. She’s stunning, exactly the type of woman who would make a perfect WAG—no amount of makeup or otherwise traditionally feminine behaviour would ever make you feel like you could match her.

It’s with a weak voice you say, “You probably say that to all the girls.”

“No.” Cole doesn’t miss a beat. “Just you.”

Your cheeks warm instantly, and you’re filled with so much emotion that you screw your eyes shut because you don’t want to see the face he makes at your delirious smile.

Before you leave, the wannabe hockey player catches up with you and asks Cole for an autograph and a photo which are happily provided. He tells his date, before you and Cole can even get out of earshot, that he was a better player than Cole has ever been and would have gone higher in the draft had he kept up with hockey.

“Can’t believe the world doesn’t get to see the next Gretzky play just because he wants to…” he trails off into unintelligible mumbling.

The number of dates you’ve been on—and they are dates, Cole has made that exceedingly clear—is quite frankly outstanding for it having been two weeks. It feels like every day he’s free, and you don’t have classes, you’re together. It’s a lot, to be honest, but it’s not bad.

It’s not like you’ve never gone to a nice restaurant before—your parents were fans of the finer things in life, and you and your friends liked to treat yourselves on your birthdays—it’s just not something you ever pictured yourself doing with Cole. Though, to be fair, you hadn’t thought about doing much with Cole until he’d suddenly started showing interest.

The maître d’ knows Cole and you’re not so sure whether it’s because Cole is a regular or because he plays for the Habs. It’s likely both.

You don’t feel like you fit, despite any sudden interest in fashion and skincare you’ve developed—when you went out with your friends in Belgium, it was always met with judgemental, and disbelieving looks that you belonged.

You push down your discomfort and let Cole order your dinner because the menu is intimidating. He asks the waiter to bring the wine that pairs best with each course, and then turns to you and says, “Pop?”

“Just seltzer, please,” you say to Cole before turning to the waiter with a timid smile. “Thank you.”

When you turn your attention back to Cole, he’s visibly confused—his eyebrows pulled together, and his mouth pulled tight. You tilt your head, confused by his confusion but he doesn’t say anything to you.

“I don’t drink soft drinks anymore,” you explain. It doesn’t clear his confusion. “Just trying to take better care of my teeth. That seems to be the change that’s got you the most.”

“Just surprised. It’s not a bad thing.”

You tilt your head at him again, waiting for him to elaborate, but the waiter returns with your drinks and Cole easily shifts the conversation to his brother, Brock.

At the next table there’s a couple, probably in their early 50s, who are absolutely besotted with each other. You catch yourself staring at them a lot throughout the evening, hoping to learn what really makes a relationship perfect. Cole notices, too, though he stares far less at them than he does at you. When you catch him staring, the heart eyes he’s developed are enough to make your heart swell.

“You look really nice tonight,” he says after one of the times he gets caught, as if it’s not what he said the second he laid eyes on you at your front door.

The compliments have come through thick and fast since Cole came back into your life. You’re not mad about them, really, and you’re proud of what you’re now able to do with your makeup and the outfits you’re able to put together so that they are outfits and not just pants and a top, but every time he says something nice you’re reminded of the years where he said nothing of the sort—when you were just another person in the same room.

It comes out of nowhere, is much of the problem. It’s been a month, maybe two, of thoughts running through your head, of what you and Cole are and what he really thinks about you—about anything—and you’ve not asked. You probably should have because it’s not an inconsistent thought in your head about what any of this even means.

You and Cole are sitting on his couch, watching a 90s teen romcom, not having said a word for half an hour, when you sit up straight and stare at him.

He looks put out by having lost your body heat, instantly reaching out to pull you back, but you can’t get over Laney Boggs’ sudden transformation into a Prom Queen and so you start spilling a months’ worth of thoughts to him.

“I can’t keep this up, Cole,” you say with all the dramatics of the main character of a romcom.

It sort of feels like he’s in a constant state of confusion when you’re around and it adds to all the thoughts running through your head because what could he possibly see in you when he doesn’t ever seem to know what to expect next.

He asks, “Keep what up?”

“Pretending that it doesn’t kill me that you’re only interested in me now that I’m more of a girly girl.”

There’s a beat, where he stares at you, and you stare back, and his face screws up and your heart does the same, but you bite your lip because really, you need to hear something from him, anything.

“What?” he says—it’s less of a question than a silence filler. “No. No that’s—”

“But it is, though, isn’t it?” You cut him off before he can stumble over any more words. “Because you weren’t taking me on dates or showing any interest when I was drinking nothing but pop and wearing nothing but sports merch but put me in a dress with a boring water in my hand and all of a sudden you can’t get enough of me.”

“I didn’t… I don’t… I don’t care about water,” he says, staring at you like you’ve grown three heads. Maybe you have. You’re not sure exactly what you look like at that moment. Promptly more unkempt than when you showed up, maybe a little crazier in the eyes—maybe doing a reverse She’s All That while the end of the movie plays behind you.

“You can’t even deny it,” you argue back, sitting further back against the arm of the couch and putting more space between you and Cole. He’s listening to every word you say, rolling them all through his mind one by one. “I thought I was alright with it, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Would you have ever looked at me that way if everything about me hadn’t changed?”

Cole’s face changes even more at that point, the confusion morphing into something a little pained and that makes sense to you if he feels like he’s been called out. He leans forward, trying to close some of the space you’ve created, but pulls back a little when you show any sign of helping the space disappear.

His shoulders fall and he says confidently, “I’m into you, babe. Just you.”

There’s part of you that wonders why he hasn’t made a move. There have been makeouts and cuddling but nothing more and you’re not mad about that at all, you’re quite happy that the pace has been slow in that respect, but the fact that it hasn’t come up at all has been playing on your mind because is he into you? Any version of you?

It’s not the most burning question in your mind right then, though, and you manage to get out, “But would you have ever asked me out the way I was before Belgium?”

“I didn’t…” All his confidence is gone. “I didn’t think of you that way before.”

You nod and stand, knowing that staying in that room is going to hurt even more than the conversation you’ve just had. So you say, “Okay,” as you’re walking to the door and following it up with, “That’s all I needed to know,” when you’re turning the doorknob.

Cole is standing, too, though he’s not moving towards you. He’s standing by the couch, looking small and curled in on himself. Your heart breaks just a little bit more when he asks, “Are we—Are we breaking up?”

Despite all the dates and the time you’ve been spending together, you’re not even sure that you’re at a point where you can ‘break up’. There’s been no conversation about what you are outside of calling the time you’re spending together dates.

“I don’t know what we are, Cole,” you say, tired and desperate to get out of his house and be alone. “I just need some time to think.”

You can hear your roommate open the front door, immediately telling whoever is there that you don’t want to see them. It’s not hard to connect the dots. Especially not when they line up perfectly with the Habs returning from a road trip.

Cole is talking before your roommate has even finished speaking, hurriedly trying to say he just wants to talk to you, and nothing else, and he has to explain things and the more the talks the faster he gets, and your roommate is trying to get a word in but Cole isn’t letting her.

It’s not anybody else’s job to be your bodyguard, so you prepare yourself mentally to rescue her from his rapid-fire speech. There’s no physical effort to put in, especially not when you putting in effort is what caused all your problems to begin with, so you step into the hall wearing a two-sizes-too-large Habs shirt with a hole in each armpit and the shorts made of sweatpants material that haven’t been seen outside your house since prior to you leaving for Belgium. Your skincare routine may or may not have been neglected in the last 48 hours, you don’t actually remember. The spots brewing suggest it’s more like in the may not column.

Yet, despite that, Cole’s eyes are on you the second you’re in his line of sight, and the relief rolling off him is palpable. He stops talking, finally taking a breath, and you just nod at your roommate when she silently asks if you actually want to do this. She takes a deep breath, waits half a second for you to change your mind, and then leaves you and Cole standing in your small entry hall.

“Sorry about the road trip,” you say, suddenly struck by his silence after how fast his mouth had been moving before you were standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds desperate, even more so than when he was begging to see you. “I—I’m into you. I don’t want whatever you think I think to get in the way of that.”

“But you weren’t into before I looked different.”

“You don’t look that different,” he counters. “I don’t think you’re wearing any make up right now and I am still really into you.”

Your cheeks warm, and you struggle to get out anything because you truthfully don’t have a lot of will to argue with him if he’s into you. You do manage, “You never showed any interest before,” which is just a repeat of everything you’ve already said.

“Then you disappeared for months, and I realised I missed you. The timing isn’t great for whatever you think is going on, but I promise I like you. A lot. And I want to keep going on dates and hanging out and all of that stuff. You can wear whatever you want or don’t want, it makes no difference to me.”

“Why didn’t you say any of that last week?”

He laughs, a snort which is largely self-deprecating, “I couldn’t wrap my head around what you were saying because it didn’t make sense to me. Kind of put me on the spot there, babe. Also felt like a bit of a trap with the movie if we’re being honest with each other.”

You sigh, “The movie was an accident. It did, uh, cause everything to kind of burst, though.”

“Can we go back to hanging out? To dating? The last week’s sucked sorta hard.”

You can’t disagree that it’s sucked sorta hard. Despite needing the time to think about it, the absence of Cole’s silly texts throughout the day or his random minute-long phone calls because his thought was too much for a text had left a huge gap in your day that you hadn’t even realised he’d been filling.

It’s easy, then, to move towards him and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close.

[urbaebarnes]

be mine

summary: you were convinced life would never be the same again after losing Nat, but your life's never the same after Bucky either

post endgame bucky barnes x fem avenger reader

warnings: grief, curse words, reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n

i know people like flowers and everybody was so kind about it i couldn't wait to start writing this! this was also meant to be much shorter but here we are i guess

word count: 3.9k words

Grief was a scary thing. No matter who you were, realising that somebody is gone from your life is difficult. But it seemed to be double the blow for you and Bucky.

Natasha had been your lifeline, your only family. You came here with her, and part of you felt as though you left here with her too. It was supposed to be easy to understand, but no matter how many times people explained it to you, it didn’t quite make sense how everybody else got their families back and you just didn’t.

You figured Bucky must feel similar, the two of you never really ventured outside your designated people. He had Steve, and you had Nat. Sure, everybody else was still close, but they would never be able to fill the void that was left by the redhead assassin. Who were you supposed to run to after a good date- or a bad one at that?

It was fine, you tried to convince yourself, as everybody else moved out the compound, as everybody else moved on, you were stuck here.

The only other person who’d remained was Bucky, although that seemed to be partly down to the fact the government still wasn’t exactly sure what they were supposed to be paying him. It was a room, a bed, a constantly stocked kitchen. It made sense to stay.

After Bruce officially moved out, you were convinced you didn’t see Bucky for two weeks. He was good at being sneaky, you only ever caught glimpses of him, or often a still steaming mug of tea on the countertop when you’d abandoned your attempt to sleep and decided you wanted a glass of water. If you appeared in a room, he was gone before you could even open the door, only leaving a trail of proof behind him.

One day, it seemed to change. The solitude was starting to mess with your head a little, not like you weren’t used to it, but normally there was something, anything. An off hand comment, a morning or goodnight, the more time you spent around the compound, it felt like you were chasing ghosts. But seemingly, Barnes had gotten sick of dropping whatever he was doing and escaping.

It was late at night, or early in the morning - there never really was a cut off for that time - but either way, you were losing a race to sleep, constantly slipping from your fingers before your eyes opened, more awake than the last time. You’d grown to feel guilty about kicking Bucky out of every space you found yourself in, but you didn’t have it in yourself to sit in this room any longer, tracing every bump and scratch on the ceiling.

This time, however, it was different. As you pushed open the door, wiping your eyes as they adjusted to the dark and wandered down the corridor, you could hear scuffling from somewhere down the hallway, and by the time you got to the kitchen, Bucky was still there.

As you pushed the door open wider, Bucky seemed to notice you, freezing like a criminal caught in an act. His stance was almost laughable, leaning slightly forward, a pink mug in his metal hand. His hair was scooped into a small bun at the back of his head, and the light blue vest top seemed to match his wide eyes.

You gave him a faint smile, still feeling sluggish despite your lack of sleep. Bucky’s mouth opened and closed once, eyes shutting for a moment before opening on a loud exhale of breath, straightening his posture. 

His shoulders seemed to hunch, looking between the mug, a newspaper on the small circular table, open a few pages in. “I can go-”

You tried to ignore the ache in your chest that the first words he’d said to you was him offering to leave. “Bucky.” You cut him off, voice sharp but with no malice behind it, “It’s okay, I’m just getting a hot chocolate. Don’t leave because of me.” 

Your head tilted as he seemed to look shocked at your words, bun bouncing as he shook his head at you. “I don’t want to bother you.” He kept the mug clutched close to his chest, other hand reaching for the newspaper.

“You’re not bothering me, I won’t even talk, sit down and read your newspaper in peace.” You walked around to the hot chocolate machine, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he hesitantly sat back down, gazing over his shoulder at you until he caught your eye, quickly turning around.

You smiled softly to yourself, stirring around the drink with the teaspoon, keeping your eyes trained on the brown liquid. Part of you feared to look back up, scared to make him uncomfortable. Really, his presence was comforting, even if the only sound in the room was you stirring the drink and the rustling of paper as he flicked through the pages in his newspaper.

When you did turn around, he was squinting at the text on the page, pulling a face at whatever he was reading before moving along. You took a seat on the barstools, blowing on it as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through some news stories, a few unanswered emails from Sam. The warm taste of the hot chocolate slipping down your throat was almost as comforting as Bucky’s hums at the newspaper every now and again.

You sat like that in silence for god knows how long, even with the brightness turned down on your phone, the white light still illuminated your face as you ventured through your photos app, venturing years and years back. One picture in particular caught your eye, you and Nat just before you had to leave for Wakanda. She was pulling a stupid face at the camera, so normal and usual. You feared you’d never feel that carefree again.

At first, you figured you were imagining the feeling of eyes staring into the side of your head, but as you placed your phone down and picked up your cup, you glanced over to Bucky. His face flushed a little as he coughed, looking at the floor before looking back at you, lips slightly parted.

“You good?” You questioned, switching off your phone as you took a sip.

He nodded slowly, swallowing thickly before frowning, “Did you have another nightmare?” His voice was quiet- it was quiet earlier, but this was the most hesitant you’d ever seen Bucky Barnes. Your eyes must’ve shown your shock, how did he know about your nightmares anyway? He quickly licked his lips, sitting forward, “I’m not trying to be weird, it’s just I can hear you after you wake up sometimes��� with the whole super-hearing-thing.”

You smiled slightly, shaking your head at his immediate nervousness, “No, didn’t get the chance tonight. Just couldn’t sleep is all. You?”

“Nightmare.” His eyes flicked from your face to around the room, biting the inside of his cheek.

You instantly regretted your question, seeing as he seemingly built walls around himself. “You wanna talk about it?” You already knew the answer, even before he shook his head, eyes refinding your face. 

You gazed down into the now empty cup, feeling more relaxed than you had in a while. “I’m gonna try and get some sleep.” You stand up, placing it down next to the sink. Your legs moved before you could fully register that you were walking all the way around the counters to walk past Bucky. It was the longer way, the much longer way, but you couldn’t help but slow down next to him, noticing the bags under his eyes. “You should too.” You whispered, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder for a moment before quickly retracting it.

His face froze as your thumb laid over his collarbone, but just as quick as the warmth of your hand appeared, it left as you walked out the room, the door closing softly behind you as he stared at the door.

Maybe this wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

[⭐]

After that night, it was as if you couldn’t stop seeing Bucky everywhere you went. The times where he’d once ran out of rooms to avoid an encounter seemed long gone by now.

It started with him making you a coffee in the morning, even if he wasn’t around. Then came the books that he’d leave alongside them, sometimes he wrote in the very margins, little things that made you laugh, or notes in the very first page giving you a brief description. You made a point of reading them when he was there, you noticed that he liked to watch you read them. Then, every night, before bed, you’d sit together in the kitchen.

“Do you ever look at something and just think of her?” He asked you one night. His eyes looked heavy, his back hunched as though he was carrying the weight of the world. “Natasha?”

You looked over sadly at him, his eyes trained on the Iron Man mug in his hands. “Everyday.” You whispered with a bittersweet smile. “I go to show her things sometimes, things she would’ve found funny and then it hits me.”

“I do that with Steve.” His voice was barely audible despite the fact there was nobody else here. They found themselves whispering lite that often, as though everybody else was asleep and they didn’t want to wake them up. There was never anybody there. “I guess now I show you the things I’d show him.”

You hummed at that, shoulder brushing with his. 

Eventually, your lives became so intertwined that it seemed like you were shadows of one another. It wasn’t always intentional, but you’d both just show up at the gym at the same time, or go on a walk at the same time. It made sense, as you’d grown closer, that your everyday activities just fit together.

The first time after getting closer to Bucky that Natasha’s death really hit was when you realised how handsome he actually was. Sure, he’d always been an attractive man, but something about how peaceful he looked on a night, watching you so intently as you tilted your head at his snarky comment written in his loopy handwriting. 

You looked up at him, knowing he was already watching, and found his smile so intoxicating you forgot all about the little note for just a second, too busy being far too infatuated with his grin. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to run to Natasha, curl up with your head in her lap as you rambled about how his upturned lips made your heart feel as though it was preparing to make its grand escape out of your chest.

But you couldn’t, so you feigned a smile that you hoped he didn’t notice was fake and made some excuse to use the bathroom in an attempt to avoid the swirl of emotions. By the time the words had left your mouth, you’d already shut the door, taking deep breaths as you splashed your face with water, “Fuck, come on. Pull yourself together.” You murmured, drying your face on the navy towel.

When you exited, you peeked your head out first, hoping your heart would grow used to the sight of him if you watched him a little longer, even though all that did was accentuate the dull ache left by the thought of Nat. Though you quickly came to the conclusion that time couldn’t make this go away.

A few weeks after that, Bucky slept in your room for the first time.

You were a light sleeper and though you’d woken up to Bucky moving around after a nightmare many times, this was different. He’s told you recently in the kitchen one night over a cup of steaming lemon and ginger tea about how bad his nightmares could get. He explained most of them were memories, but the really bad ones, the ones where he couldn’t differentiate the real from the fake, had subsided a little after Wakanda. He’d also said he screamed sometimes.

If this was what he meant, then it was much worse than how he’d described them.

It felt as though somebody had fished around your body and found your heart strings, then tugging sharply. He sounded scared, and in pain, and it took everything in you not to run to his bedside, so instead you sat there, attempting to quiet your own breaths in hope of hearing him moving in the now silence.

You couldn’t tell how long it had been, time seemed to blur as you stared at where you figured the door would be, everything hazy in the dark, but however long it had been, the relief you felt when you heard the three sharp knocks couldn’t be matched.

Springing out of bed, your toes curled at the feeling of the cold wooden floor before feeling your way along the wall, switching on the wall lamp, flooding the room with light on your way to the door. As your hand grazed the doorknob, he knocked again, this time quicker, more desperate.

You pulled at the door quickly, letting the light grace his face like the sun on a soldier back from war. “Bucky?” You whispered softly, seeing his distraught face, his eyes raking over your body, head jerking in small movements as you stood there.

“You’re…” He trailed off, placing his flesh hand over your heart. “You’re okay.” His eyes closed, nodding to himself as his head dropped. You wrapped your own hand over his, stroking your thumb over the back of his hand.

“I’m okay, you’re okay.” Your voice was gentle as you watched his chest begin to stop moving so violently, letting his shoulders relax, or drop, it didn’t look overly relaxing or comfortable.

He mumbled something, opening his eyes slowly before pulling away his hand, even though he pinned your thumb in between his pointer and middle finger. “I’m sorry, it was just… I had to make sure…”

You walked backwards, pushing the door open with your back, letting your arm stretch out, “Come on.” You whispered, pulling your arm slightly as he still clutched your thumb. Bucky’s mouth opened, standing dumbstruck for a moment before he nodded, walking closer, letting the door shut softly behind him. 

Even as you bent down beside your bed, he never let go of your thumb, and you never tried to pull it away. “What are you doing?” He questioned, voice still shaky but a hint of something else rearing its head, trying desperately to escape his tone.

Smiling, you tugged out a mattress, standing up and letting the arm that was stretched rest for a moment, he tilted his head curiously at it, “You want a blanket?”

Bucky was too stunned to speak, looking between you and your overly kind gesture, “I can’t, you shouldn’t have to-”

“When are you gonna start believing that I’m doing this because I want to, Bucky?” You questioned faintly, wrapping the rest of your fingers around his. “Lay down, please?”

Your eyes seemed to win him over, begging a pleading with him to just let you take care of him. That night was the best sleep he’d had in a while.

The only problem was that after that, he couldn’t do anything without you anymore, he couldn’t fall asleep in his own room, he couldn’t concentrate if you weren’t around. If he thought he was dependent before, this was another level- not that you seemed to mind. He’d just gravitated to that mattress in your room, the next night, he knocked again and you’d left it where it was, almost as though it was waiting for him.

From there, your relationship flourished, even if neither of you ever referred to it as a relationship, or anything really. You were just you and Bucky, there didn't have to be anything else. Despite what Clint suggested when he came to visit, or the raised eyebrows you’d received from Sam.

Sam had committed a full day of trying to get a picture of Bucky looking at you. He seemed to figure it would ignite something in you two, but it proved a harder task than originally thought out. After a full day of hiding his face with his hand whenever Sam would pull out his camera - partly to hide his pink cheeks from you - and pulling a stupid face at the camera, he’d managed to snap one.

You were both in the kitchen, Bucky sat across from you on the barstools as you yapped away, half expecting them both to zone out, but Bucky didn’t. The only time he’d zoned out when words were coming out of your pretty mouth was when you were standing a little too close for his own self control.

In the picture, he was leant forward, resting his tilted head on his wrist, nails grazing his lips as he stared up at you. The very corner of his lip could just be made out, the flash of pink pointing upwards as you didn’t notice him at all, looking down at the pan in your hand, mouth slightly apart. 

When Sam showed it to you, he swore he could trace the hearts in Bucky’s eyes, but you quickly dismissed the idea, shaking your head as he saved it to his favourites folder and murmuring something about how this would be shown at your wedding.

Sure, Bucky was everything, he was your everything, but you weren't about to ruin all of this just because you got selfish.

Sam, being the little shit he was, then tried to show Bucky, but he was even quicker to shove the phone away, insisting he delete it asap, despite the smirk on his face. 

The first time you were away on a mission felt like hell for Bucky. Whilst you could put on a brave face and spend three days in Germany, fighting alongside someone from S.W.O.R.D, his life was a mess without you.

It frightened him how much he seemed to depend on being able to see you while you were sleeping, or the fact that he couldn’t make anything but toast and pasta. Bucky wasn’t fully sure how he’d survived without you before. He’d already lost so many people and he didn’t think he could survive if you disappeared from his life too. You weren’t allowed a phone on the mission, so he couldn’t contact you, his only comfort was the small picture of you he kept in his wallet. 

It was stupid, but you were one of the few photos on his phone, and your face just looked too damn perfect not to fit in the small space. This way, every time he had to leave the house or got to the shops or be separated for the smallest amount of time, you were right there with him. It also helped him remember to bring his wallet- he couldn’t leave you in between the sofa cushions after all.

He’s been alerted of your arrival back an hour before your jet got back, and it seemed like the longest hour he’d ever known. Bucky sat on the bench, he stood up and paced in a circle, he leant against the wall, he sat on the ground, all within the space of ten minutes. But his dirty trousers were worth it as he spotted your face, a cut down your left cheek and a mark on your jaw.

But you were fine, and Bucky couldn’t care less about the agents who stopped and stared as he stepped forward and engulfed you in a hug. Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you froze before wrapping your arms back around him. The two of you were close, but this… this was different.

“I missed you, doll.” He murmured, squeezing you tightly as you hummed.

“Me too, Buck. Me too.” As you pulled apart, his hands cupped your face, careful to avoid the cut. His brows knitted together as he observed your face, eyes flickering around every part of you, only stopping as you let your hands rest on his shoulders. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t reply, just staring into your eyes, transfixed as people moved around you.

You took his head and led him inside to the compound, into the kitchen. Bucky could feel everything he’d ever felt rise to the very surface as you pushed his shoulders down so he’d sit in a chair as you set off, busying yourself around the kitchen as you tidied away his attempts at cooking something edible.

“I love you.”

The words were tumbling out of his mouth before he even had the chance to think or do anything to stop himself. It was stupid, so very very stupid, but you made Bucky a stupid man. He hadn’t even told you he liked you, he felt like he’d skipped through steps that were fairly detrimental to any stage of a relationship, and god he really wanted a relationship. He wanted to call you his and wrap his arms around your body from behind, pepper kisses on your neck-

Bucky was quickly pulled out of his fantasies by you, you could pull him out of anything with one glance, even your presence alone could calm down the waves of self hatred that reared their pathetic heads every now and again. But there you were, a pan in one hand, stopped mid stride as you stared at home with parted lips.

This had to be a bad thing, he thought, you looked like a deer caught in headlights and that didn’t often end well.

He was too busy wrapped up in his whirlwind of feelings to even notice your upturned lips, or the way you neared him, saying his name so softly. He didn’t register anything until your hands found his cheeks, he looked up at you, eyes wide with confusion as he took in your smiling figure. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think an-” His voice was a whisper, scared of losing you through his pure stupidity.

But all those thoughts were put to rest the moment your lips graced his, just a peck, a gentle brush of affection, but the moment he registered just what was happening, he wrapped his arms around your centre, pulling you in between his legs as you stood back up from bending down to his height. You let yourself be pulled in, his head resting against your body as he grinned to himself like a love drunk fool.

He stood up soon after, hands never moving from your back as he kept you flush against him, biting his lip as he looked at you as though you were the only thing in the world - maybe you were. “I had a plan in my head of how this was going to happen.” His words were strained, but the small chuckle that escaped his throat was enough to reassure any doubts in your mind. “But screw it, screw it all, just be mine, please be mine.”

His forehead rested against yours as he closed his eyes. The universe owed him this, it owed him his happy ending, and you yours.

After everything you’d lost in the past year, Bucky had made you smile, he’d made you laugh, he’d made you happy- something you weren’t even sure was possible after you snapped back, after you’d been told of what happened to Nat. But he helped. He didn’t try to fix everything, he didn’t try and bring a magic hammer and smash the broken parts of you back together, you grew together, you helped each other. You understand each other because even on your worst days, he was with you, and he would help, and love, and care.

“I’m yours.”

[pareidolla]

(Explore) Do you have any headcanons for Voice of the Cheated?

♡. ask game

anon dearie ilysm i'm sorry it's been 2 whole months </3 i immediately began typing this post out as soon as i received it, but then not only did i forget to finish it, but practically all of the headcanons i wrote had to be trashed because they related to cheated's role but he is no longer a pirate!!! buddy got his costume changed and i am not telling you what it is ♡♡

but yes yes i have a couple headcanons! in no particular order:

01. my cheated has a tail for Reasons™ and it is a great source of misfortune of him. he already has a lousy poker face, but even if he manages to keep it together, anyone can easily intuit how he's feeling from its swaying or thumping. not to mention how often people step on it (most accidentally, cold and opportunist not accidentally)

02. my voice's "true" form are mirror shards while their physical bodies are something akin to homuculi/puppets. if harmed beyond a certain threshold then the affected body part will shatter completely rather than simply bleed out. normally, if the shard is healthy, then reverting back to shard form will reverse the injury, but cheated's shard is so ridiculously pure that shattered parts will mend on their own! even when he fully shatters, which is relatively easy for him to do, it only takes a half-hour to recover, as opposed to the days or weeks that others may need.

this is also a great source of misfortune for him ♡ according to razor this makes him the perfect little pin-cushion. the glass shattering makes such a pretty, addictive noise and then woo he's right back to do it again. sure, it's fun to battle stubborn, but it takes him forever to shatter, and then the cooldown can take a month. scam! rip-off! her own little guy is the way better deal!

03. speaking of glass shards: cheated and flinching are brother and sister! all of the voices came from the same mirror, but cheated's shard cracked twice, first forming him and then flinching. while the demo voices remained dormant throughout the game, most of cheated's personality is unconsciously founded in complementing and protecting his sister. whereas flinching would hesitate to shoot a gun, cheated would snatch it from her grasp to fire immediately -- and then she watches in horror as the bullet ricochets off a pipe and hits him square in the knee. chichi twins ♡♡

04. cheated is a stiff in that he doesn't drink or smoke (his suffering will be done raw, thank you), but he absolutely adores gambling. he will swear up and down that he can stop at any time, and he doesn't even like it that much, yet he'll make a beeline for the nearest slot machine and have to be wrestled out of the chair. please, he can't just leave now, he's already sunk so much money into this, please just one more pull--

05. contrary to his appearance (and princess), cheated likes cute things! he's a bit shy about expressing his interest in coquette stuff like ribbons and makeup, but he's very open about caring for the innocent and helpless. the type to leave food out for strays and tries (keyword: tries) not to swear infront of kids. would love for him to team up with damsel for game night.

(kills me that he wouldn't want to wear "girl stuff" since he thinks the other voices pull it off better. everytime i draw cheated i think he would make for such a beautiful woman. i need opportunist to invite him to a drag bar and change his life.)

since it's tangentially connected, i'm ending this off with my favorite headcanon: cheated adores sharks and sleeps with a big shark plush he won at a carnival, whom he has named cap'n crunch ��

[causeimcrayzeebee]

tetro back it again making me cry way too early in the morning alright lets talk about the things on my mind after this weeks episodes

first of all, (princess) Monomoko. goodness. i have really enjoyed seeing her become more and more sympathetic and aware, building her own consciousness. that really worries me about her, in the event that something could happen to her. the fact that she told seki that she cant justify the killing game anymore, and seki doesn’t really say anything about he feels. i wonder if he feels the same way. also from corrective approach, it seems like seki turned her in, but honestly is it just me or does it seem like something where kan found out on his own n seki wasn’t able to do anything about it? i mean obviously he’s still choosing to do nothing, but like i feel like it would be weird that he told on her yk? or am i just losing my mind.

ojima. oh my goodness ojima, I did not expect a lore dump, but wow. hayashi telling him that talking about it could be his chance to be strong,,, and he actually starts speaking. i really loved that hayashi was the one he told, especially considering their similarities. ojima throughout the ep was hugely impressed that she survived the year of being kidnapped and locked away, and thinking he himself as incapable of being that strong, but hayashi saying that she’s not stronger, she’s just had more practice was a key thing. ojima took that first step of saying something all those years ago, and when the people around him (his father not his brothers) blamed him of lying, he didn’t feel like he had the people to support him that he needed, thus backing away. ojima opening up again after that (and about something he’s avoided for most of his life) is HUGE. now, as he tells hayashi what happened to him, she can be part of that support system for him.

hayashi has gone through so much too. i think her story really highlights the importance of having people around you. her parents were still searching for her, and once she was actually able to escape, she had her parents back. the whole kidnapping was incredibly fucked, it’s amazing that she made it. she’s so strong and i love her, she really has stepped up to giving the rest of the cast support, just like she was by her parents.

on another note MY PARENTS [hayashigeki] ARE NO LONGER ON THE PATH TO DIVORCE!!! the fact that yanagi was so distraught and worried about restricting hayashi and being controlling just like his father, only to find out hayashi was mad at him for putting himself in danger... I really liked communication attempt, I'm so glad they actually talked. yanagi talking about long term plans though worries me..... king pls.....

speaking of long term plans, this is what got me bawling again, in refulgence post mortem. kamimura kazutoshi, the guy literally trying to kill himself just before the killing game (which I still wonder what this means for how they got the participants into the game,,, did they have to like resuscitate him??) , was thinking about going back to school to pursue his dream. he wanted to reconnect with his aunt. hasegawa saying he was proud of him really got me. kamimura had found something he wanted to do, something to strive for in the future. and then he was taken away. hasegawa's distain for okazaki is clear in this episode. they way that hasegawa talked about kamimura was full of love, both when he talked about the little things that were negative about kamimura, like how he was easily annoyed, and when he talked about how funny and kind he was. i think it’s really interesting too how Hama was asking hasegawa, someone the rest of the group knows even LESS, about kamimura. it feels like when two mutual friends talk about someone they knew and get closer through that. i really hope this marks hasegawa beginning to reach out more. (OH YEAH ALSO HASEGAWA CLEANING KAMIMURAS BODY AND THE SCENE,,,, WHAT IF I CRIED.) this episode was also something that really hit how isolated the two were from the rest of the group; we all knew this about kamimura, but hama was hearing a lot of this for the first time.

i really loved hama in this weeks episodes too. teacher hama made me so happy I cant believe we had five minutes of hama yapping about yokai that was AWESOME. wama nation rise this week was peak.... the way he responds to wada in extra credit is so fucking sweet, and him reading chibas story (AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH) to help wada fall asleep was so fucking adorable I lost it. hama is truly someone with so much love to give.

wada this week has clearly been going through a lot. I think definitely in chapter 4, he's starting to grow a bit more confidence and strength to move forward, but shit is hard. it makes sense for wada to backpedal a bit. i knew a lot of what happened cause of wada.exe but damn was it so painful hearing it VOICED. shout out to literallt every single tetro VA, i think their work has absolutely enhanced the story so beautifully. wada has so much to deal with and his past will always be with him. “it can't be trauma because that means it won't go away”, was a really striking line. i really loved all the lines in these episodes, they held so much power.

oh yanagi, you sweet son of a bitch. I'm so worried for his survival chances this chapter, he's been serving everyone. he treated Monomoko to the princess experience despite everything. he helped wada talk about his issues with food and set out to help him do something about it, just like how he did with his sister. he kept trying until finally having the opportunity to talk to hayashi. yanagi is someone who knows where he comes from, but has made huge strides and constant effort to not be like his father.

and finally, speaking of families. watari. oh my goodness, I love watari so much. her interview was amazing, it was such a rollercoaster (girlie is the number one wama n hasemura fan lmfaoo), but I really enjoyed the whole thing. i had a suspicion that she really just longed to be a teenager without responsibilities when I read her secret files, but damn. i think the wish for her mom to be more involved is something so sad but so real. tons of kids have to end up taking care of their siblings like how watari has to, and it’s a lot on someone who’s still growing themselves. i didn’t make that connection to why she loved having fun with okazaki until this interview, and wow. Firefox nation how we feeling (im going to explode UAHSHDJEJEJE). this killing game, ironically, gave her the opportunity to be free, just for a bit. i also find her instinct to say she wants to be an only child interesting, as I think it’s instinct to blame the immediate people around you for a problem that is more (likely?) systematic. but in reality all she wants is her mom to do things for her, like a mother should.

I think this is the first proper time watari has acknowledged how she’s been feeling about Okazaki (Y’all are cruel with these questions LMAO). okazaki was someone she could have fun with, to enjoy herself with. okazaki let her be who she wished she could’ve been, and she wanted her. if Okazaki hadn’t killed like she did, maybe things would be different. clearly, under all her hatred and anger towards Okazaki for the fucked up things she did, she loved her. she misses her. she still wants to be foxes with her, in another life, where they can start over and have a clean slate. she wants to spend life with the one who let her be the carefree teenager she wanted to be. she wants her. don’t mind me bawling my eyes out!

overall, I've really loved the themes of support from tetro recently. I think it's been a common reminder coming through that people need others to keep going. support is a powerful thing, and when so many of the cast of tetro have been alone in some aspect during their life, finding the people to help them through it to move on through their life is an incredibly powerful thing.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Chills

Raphael xGN!Reader

The sound of the evening bustle transitions the city from day to night, seeming to herald the neon darkness, and you smile to yourself a little more with every streetlight that flickers on. If he isn't already, he'll be on his way soon, ascending with the darkness, rising like steam from the tunnels below. Up, over, and above the rooftops.

Standing at the window, looking out into the blooming night, you tug on the latch. It's easier to open now, the action smooth besides the slightest catch. You remember when it used to stick horribly. And you totally didn't use it as an excuse to keep him longer when you first met, why would you think that? But time, and an abundance of use, has left it opening easier these days. (Either that, or it's about to break. You may need to talk to Donnie about that.)

It's only been a week since you saw him last, both of you having been busy with work, and separately, both of you have been feeling the distance. Calls and texts can only do so much when your body is screaming for someone. There's this itch. This need. You'd been friends for a while, but a week ago everything changed.

It had been a normal night. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was your night off, and you'd been looking forward to it because it meant he'd be coming by on his "lunch break." You loved nights like this. When it was just the two of you on the rooftop in the wee hours of the morning. When even The City That Never Sleeps is quiet.

It was magical. Like you were alone in the world. In those small hours there was freedom. Unconstrained by propriety, acceptability, and expectation, you could just... exist for a little while, side-by-side with someone you know you're safe to just exist with. Being beside Raphael is like being in the eye of a hurricane. No matter what chaos is spinning around you, Raph is peace. Home. Clear skies, and safety. And that night, the weight of your gratitude pressed heavy on your chest.

It did that sometimes. He'd do something, or say something, or even apropos of nothing, your heart would swell and your chest would ache with something beautiful and profound, and you'd need to be close to him.

It's the feeling you'd always imagined having with... someone. This peace. This pain. This is what you'd been chasing in every failed relationship. It wasn't until recently that you realized you have a type. You're drawn to fire. To passion. The problem with that type, is that those that carry fire inside them... tend to be explosive.

The last one was a couple of months ago. You had to spend a good three hours trying to convince Raph not to kill the man who'd put his hands on you. In the end, he wheeled away, breathing, with only a broken spine.

You took a deep breath, exhaling into the night, and laying your head against his arm. He responded by sliding that hand around your waist, and pulling you closer. Not lifting from his arm, you turned your face upward to find him already looking down at you.

You can't help the smile that blooms across your features, "What?" you challenge, lifting your chin.

Usually, at this point, he would clap back with something sassy, or suck his teeth and look away, feigning indignation. But that night he just... looked at you. A quiet smile on his face, feeling his own flood of gratitude blooming in his chest, warming him from the inside out.

He'd always dreaded the day when he would fall in love, if it ever were to happen, that is. He knew it would hurt all the more because he couldn't act on it. But then you happened. He'd love to hate it. To hate you for making him feel it. But the day he realized he was in love with you, it didn't hurt. And he could act on it.

Maybe not fully. Maybe not entirely the way he wanted, but love is an action word, and he loved you every single day with every last piece of him. Calling you at work to make sure you'd eaten, walking you home, being there to pick up the pieces every single time someone or something tore you apart, Raphael loved you. Completely.

He couldn't hate it, or you. You'd come into his life and he'd let your light fill him, and warm him, and in the end he didn't care what you called it, or what it looked like, you were a part of his world and he was grateful. But some nights, like that night, his heart ached, heavy with all the love he could never give you.

His smile became almost sad, and he turned to look back out into the darkness. You saw it. You always did. The blue-black flicker of mourning set deep within his amber eyes. He couldn't hide. Not from you. You never mentioned it. Whatever it was, it was deep, and important, and belonged to him, and you had no right to know if he didn't want to tell you.

But, for some reason, that night, you couldn't bear it. Even if you couldn't help, he should at least know that you care. That you see him.

You sit up, pulling yourself from his arm and nigh hovering over the edge of the rooftop to face him. You reach up, gentle fingers brushing the side of his jaw "No really, what?"

He returned his gaze to yours, still wearing that sad smile. "Nothin'," I love you... "I just..." I love you... The blue-black in his eyes poured into you then, as he drew a deep breath, and his eyes softened as yours stung, "Nothin'." I love you...

He looked at you like the sun through a sewer grate. Like he longed to bask in you, but had convinced himself he was content with the smallest break in the shadows. Like that's all he was worthy of. It was the first time you saw it. Really saw it. Deep red in the blue-black, his own beating heart, and you.

Your fingers trailed down his jaw, and it was everything he could do not to lean into the touch. When they whispered over the scar on his lips, his eyes fell closed with a soft sigh. When his eyes opened again, they held a deep pain, and a question he was unworthy of asking.

He reached up and took your hand, his lips longing for the taste of your fingertips, and resisted the urge to kiss each one. His thumb bushed over your palm, and down your wrist, scattering gooseflesh down your arm and across your chest, as he held your gaze. He couldn't help it, the hand on your waist tightened and pulled you closer.

Every sweep of his thumb over your pulse drew shivers from your skin, and as he took notice, the question in his eyes became clearer.

I love you...

Will you let me...?

You held his gaze. You hadn't been looking for this. This feeling. This want. With every inferno that you'd allowed you consume you, you hadn't been chasing this.

You'd been chasing him.

And, your eyes held the impossible answer.

Yes.

The hand holding yours pulled you to him and the one around your waist pulled you up, as he captured your lips with his. Both of your arms looped round his neck and his hold on your waist tightened as he kissed you deeply over the edge of the rooftop.

Almost floating in free space, all you could feel was his body on yours, scales cooled by the night air sliding against bare flesh, he was all that tethered you to the earth. He usually was.

Opening to him, your tongues tangled in a dance older than time, and his hold tightened as a thunderstorm gathered in his chest. Every gasp and quiet sigh carried that storm into your own, as you pressed against him and his churr deepened.

It could have been a few minutes or an eternity, and it wouldn't have been long enough. You parted, foreheads pressed together, grinning, laughing breathlessly, in equal parts relief and disbelief. It was like breaking through surface tension. The weight of want had lifted, and you both were almost dizzy with the oxygen high.

Leo had called not long after, and it was like being dragged away by chariots, but, duty-bound, he went.

The sun now, officially, below the horizon you look out over the living room, almost nervous. Dinner and a movie. A pretty typical (if rare) night off for the two of you. But you'd taken your time getting ready, and power-cleaned the apartment, despite the fact that he basically lived there, anyway.

A soft landing overhead draws your eyes upwards. You clear your throat and pull it together so that the moths swarming in your stomach don't cause you to giggle like an idiot. You manage to scale it back to just a grin, the window slides open, and he lands, meeting your gaze with a soft and deadly smile.

"Hey."

....

...

Tag list

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[coffeeghoulie]

broke the mold (change will come)

chapter 1: can't explain a thing

"For a very long time, I thought I was fire too."

The only person Swiss has ever told this story to is Aeon. But that is centuries from now, and he is not yet Swiss.

I've been thinking about and working on this fic since I wrote Eternal Heatstroke last year, and it's finally ready to share! You don't have to have read EH before reading this, but this is technically its sequel.

Much thanks to @askingforthesun for letting me bother them with this fic and helping with the worldbuilding, @mintea-in-space for reading through it, and to @belle--ofthebrawl for letting me yap about this fic in person. <3

Title and all chapter titles (unless otherwise specified) are from (Coffee's for Closers) by Fall Out Boy. Updates on Fridays.

Contains emotional child abuse, religious doubt, a large group of ghoul OCs, dissociation, and a large crisis of faith. Please mind the warnings <3. 5.9k.

divider by @wrathofrats <3

He's just gotten comfortable in the little nest in the corner of their room when the door creaks open. Golden light spills into the late night darkness, revealing the silhouette of a teenage fire ghoulette. Her horns are just starting to curl back over her head, silver jewelry threaded into the braids that brush over her shoulders. The hall light glints off of them, catching his eye.

"Aurum," she says bluntly, no hesitation or care that he might be asleep. He shuts his eyes. "Mother and Father want to talk to you."

Aurum squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, a pang of fear and deep seated dread sinking into him. He groans under his breath, biting down hard on his lower lip. "I know," he says, reluctantly extracting himself from his nest just as Scintilla, his sister, curls up into hers in the other corner.

"Be quiet when you come back," she says, disinterested in the obvious fear in his scent that he can't quite mask. "Some of us care about our studies in the morning. Ignis is already asleep."

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, feeling his sister's eyes burning into the small of his back. "I'll be quiet, Till." He’ll at least try to be. At least for his youngest sister’s sake. Sometimes, it feels like she’s the only one who doesn’t just hate him.

"You better be quiet," she grumbles, settling into her bed. "You certainly weren't last time."

Aurum shuts the door as quietly as he can.

The walk down the hallway gets longer every time he's summoned, he swears. Every step harder to take, unavoidable. His heart pounds in his chest. It rattles at his ribs in an attempt to get free. He waits for a moment outside of their door, the frame seeming to loom over him despite him being rather tall for his age.

There's shuffling within, blankets and papers, quiet murmurs that Aurum can't quite make heads or tails of. He knows his mother and father's voices though. He swallows hard, turning the door handle and stepping into his parents' room.

Aurum feels like he's spending more time in his parents' room than his own, these days. It's the third summoning this week. Their room is exactly the same as the last time he was summoned here. Their hearth sits against the far wall in an intricate weaving of bedding, two dressers on the wall opposite. The window is tightly shut, and if Aurum squints past the glare from the lights on their nightstands, he can see the glow of the City below.

Aurum ducks his head as both of his parents' gazes lock onto him. Pyra sits in her nest, legs gracefully tucked under her. There's papers and readings sprawled out in the blankets, her glasses perched on her nose as she looks over the frames. Inferno stops pacing by the window, turning to look at his oldest and only son, dull yellow eyes staring into what counts of his soul.

"Your father and I both know why we've asked you here, Aurum," Pyra says, reaching back to where she's tied back her hair. A few loose twists have escaped her ponytail, and she pushes them back behind her ears neatly. Ever prim and proper, even when winding down for the evening.

"Yes, Mother," Aurum mumbles, taking the space he knows well at the foot of their hearth. His arms go behind his back, and he hangs his head, his braids falling into his eyes.

Inferno tuts, and Aurum jolts. "You look at your mother when she speaks to you."

Aurum swallows. "Yes, Father." It's always hard to judge if Inferno gets involved on nights like this. He usually yields to his mate, but some nights... Aurum just has to hedge his bets. But he swallows hard again, straightening to meet his mother's dark amber gaze.

"Why do you think we've called you here?" Pyra asks, her attention split between him and her papers. Aurum's made the hypocrisy comment before, about him forced to be at attention and her being allowed to pay attention only when she pleased, and it didn't end well, so he keeps his mouth shut.

"I don't know, Mother," he says. In reality, it could be any number of infractions. Iggy, even though she's his favorite little sister, loves pushing his buttons until he breaks and snaps. It could be the way he isn't keeping his nest clean to Tilly's standards. It could be anything.

Pyra whips towards Inferno, something red glowing in the darkness of her eyes like embers waiting to be kicked back to life. "By the Prince, Inferno, he's just like you."

The larger ghoul throws his hands up, raking claws through close-cropped curls. "I know, Pyra, I'm trying to make sure he doesn't turn out like me."

"You're not trying hard enough," she snaps, turning back to Aurum. His ears pin back. "'I don't know' is not an answer, Aurum. Try again."

Aurum wracks his mind, even as everything starts to blur around the edges. He digs his claws into one of his wrists, squeezing as hard as he can. He hopes the pain keeps the dissociation at bay. "I- I really don't know, Mother."

She snarls, slapping the papers in her hand against the nest. Aurum flinches, but he knows better now than to physically recoil and step back. He'd learned that lesson a long time ago. He instead tightens his grip around his wrist.

"You are here, again, because your tutor told us that you weren't trying at all to improve your magic. Again."

"I am trying!" Aurum says, eyes glancing nervously between his parents. His father stands stock still, staring expressionlessly. "Saint Jezebel, I'm trying, I swear!"

"Watch your tone." Pyra tuts, her fangs clicking threateningly. She picks up the stack of papers and thumbs through them. "I'd believe you, Aurum, only, that's exactly what you said about the last tutor. And the last one. And the one before that."

Aurum takes a deep breath through his nose. "Because it was true then, and it's true now. I am trying, Mother. I don't know what's wrong with me that I can't use my magic like I used to. I can't do anything right." He snaps the last sentence, unsure if he's angry with her or at himself.

She shakes her head. Her eyes lock on his and it takes everything in Aurum's power to not look away. To stay here and present and focused. If he misses something, she will make him live to regret it. "Tone, Aurum."

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. "I'm sorry, Mother."

Pyra doesn't respond with much more than a huff.

"You know how your mother feels about 'sorry,' Aurum," Inferno snaps. He leans against the bedroom wall. He watches. It feels like that's all his father ever does. Watches, never interferes. Except when he's angry enough to start yelling too.

Aurum hates those nights. He hopes this isn't one of them.

"Yes, Father," Aurum says.

"Quit it with the 'Yes, Father, yes, Mother,'" Pyra says. "We're sick of hearing it."

Aurum squints, brows furrowing with exasperated confusion. "Well, if I don't address you, you yell at me for being disrespectful. If I do address you, you get angry. I can't win."

She mirrors his expression. He can't tell if she's mocking him. She probably is. "So you admit that you think this is a game?"

"No!" He says, throwing his head back to look up at the ceiling, a silent prayer in his mind. "That's not what I said at all!"

"You are squandering the Prince's gift!" Pyra snaps, her many fangs long and sharp. "He said that you would-"

"Grow to great power and bring honor to my name in servitude to the Throne! Mother, I know, you've told me!" Aurum says, his claws curling into his wrist and threatening to break his own skin. "You tell me every time I don't do good enough for you!"

"Aurum," she growls, standing from the nest. She's just barely taller than him, and her eyes bore into his. "You would do well enough for us if you just tried. I know you can, I've seen it."

"What, when everything was fucking easy?" He snaps. Aurum's exhausted. He wonders why they can't have these little "discussions" earlier in the day. When he wouldn't ache for his nest. Wouldn't have to worry about waking his sisters.

"Don't take that tone with me," she snarls. She's never done more than snap her teeth, grab at his wrist, but there's enough threat in her voice that Aurum flinches.

He lets his eyes flick up at the ceiling, the familiar words starting to rush through his mind. Seven Sisters, grant me the strength and patience I do not-

"Don't roll your eyes at me, Aurum!"

Aurum's eyes go wide, glancing back to his mother's face as she stands in front of him. "I didn't!"

"I fucking watched you, Aurum, I'm not stupid!" She lunges, so close Aurum can feel her spittle hitting his cheeks. "Quit fucking lying to me, it's not going to get you anywhere."

"Mother, I didn't roll my eyes, I looked up-"

"Knock it off," Inferno says. "Listen to your mother."

"I am, Father," Aurum says, bravely looking away from Pyra to glare daggers at his father. He feels the anger burning in his chest, coals kicked into flames with each heartbeat. Whenever he calms, in hours or days, who knows, Aurum knows there will be no forgiveness for his father's enabling observance. For never putting a stop to this. He's close to grown now, he can leave soon and never have to do this again.

Not much longer until he's grown. He's gotten this far. He can make it a few more decades.

The tiny voice in the back of his mind reminds him that he's not sure how much more of this he can force himself to endure.

Pyra's clawed hand grabs his chin, forcing Aurum to make eye contact with her. "You need to try harder, Aurum. The Prince said you would bring honor to your family's name and follow their footsteps. Do not make a false prophet of Him."

"I am trying as hard as I can, the fire's not- It's not coming to me the way it used to, and I don’t know why," he says, tail curling around his calf sheepishly and ears pinned back. "I'm sorry. Mama, I’m sorry."

She rolls her eyes, huffing. Her voice goes soft, and her thumb smooths over his cheek. Gentle. He fights every instinct to lean into it. "I don't believe you. Aurum. If you really meant it, you would do something to change it."

Aurum sinks his fangs into his tongue until he tastes blood. Even despite the pain, he can feel his mind retreating deep into his brain, leaving him feeling almost hollow. Pyra's talking. He knows he can hear her, but nothing processes. She can probably see the way his eyes are going dull.

There's a muted dread that settles in his chest. He knows she's saying something he needs to listen to. She'll be pissed when she realizes he isn't hearing her. His father'll be pissed too. But Aurum can't get his brain back online even despite that threat.

He can hear her talking. So close he can feel her breath, his eyes crossed as they try to focus on her. He cannot make out the words but knows the tone. He’s heard it before. He knows how to make this stop, how to stop nights like these, but he’s been trying just as long.

It feels like he’s living the same day over and over and over and over and over again with no end in sight.

Eventually, she lets go of his face, takes a step back to her nest. To where she’s brought her work home from the Palace. Flamespeaker’s duties never ending, and Pyra’s served the Prince with honor since long before she’d met his father.

"You are dismissed," Pyra huffs. She gestures towards the door. "Do not wake your sisters."

Aurum nods, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat as he tries to force himself back into his body. "Yes, Mother. Good night."

It isn't returned.

He shuts his parents' door as quietly as he can, turning the knob as it latches so it doesn't click loudly. His tail tucked between his legs, he slips back down the hallway to his and Scintilla's room. He's fighting a losing battle, his eyes stinging and blurry with tears, and by the time Aurum creaks the door to their room open, they've started dripping down his cheeks.

Aurum's nest waits for him, and he slips under the covers as quietly as he can. Best he can tell, he was successful on not waking either of his sisters. He counts it as a win.

He throws the blankets over himself, eyeing the lump Scintilla makes under her covers carefully. Her breathing is slow and steady, and he nods, knowing what she looks like when she sleeps. He's been sharing a room with her for almost two centuries now, has been practically his entire life. Iggy, his baby sister, youngest of his den, had slept in their parents' hearth far longer than Scintilla or Aurum had, and when she'd finally outgrown the habit, Aurum had been more than happy to give up his room for her.

Aurum watches Scintilla breathe for another few moments, just to make sure he’s followed through with his promise. When he's certain she's asleep, he grabs a big handful of the thickest blanket in his nest, sinking his teeth into the fur to stifle a sob.

The barrier breaks, and it all floods out of him. He sobs, curling up in on himself, knees to his chest, and he shakes. He's tired. So tired. Scared, and upset, and wailing like a brand new kit. He hates himself for it. He's almost grown, and here he is, crying so hard his tears steam up on his cheeks.

Of course his fire makes itself known now.

Aurum hates it all.

He tries to keep it quiet. He really does. But he freezes when he hears a snap of fangs from the other side of the room.

"Be fucking quiet," Scintilla hisses. Her tail unfurls from around her body, the spade smacking threateningly against her nest. She rolls over with a quiet growl. “Or I go get Mother.”

Aurum whines, caught. He turns over to face the wall, tears still streaming down his face as more shame settles into the core of his chest. His tail uncurls from around his thigh, and he takes the spade between his teeth.

He bites down until he tastes iron, willing himself to fall asleep.

Aurum's dreams have always been strange. Tonight is no exception. He finds himself in the shadow of a tall ghoul, a man he doesn't recognize. Everything's too fuzzy to make out the real details. He's lit with fire, steam and shadow obscuring the details. All Aurum can see are the broad features. His hair falls in long locs down his back, horns curving out from his head.

Aurum calls out for him, so close, yet when he tries to take a step towards this strange, familiar ghoul, he gets no closer. "Hey!" Aurum calls, reaching as far as he can.

The man pays him no mind. He does not say anything, doesn't even acknowledge that Aurum's called out to him. He starts to walk away.

“Hey!” Aurum panics, breaking into a stumbling run after the man. "Wait!"

With every step, Aurum gets further away from the man, even as he reaches with arms outstretched, runs as fast as he can. "Please don't leave me here!"

The man pauses. Looks over his shoulder. The moment Aurum meets his eye, he jolts awake in a sweaty, disheveled mess. He doesn’t fall asleep again. Mind too frantic, trying to figure out what it meant. He has no answer.

Things are still tense in the morning, a bitter taste on the back of his tongue, coating the roof of his mouth. His sisters share glances with each other as he steps out into the common room, even Iggy. She looks tired. Something like disappointment pangs sharp in Aurum’s chest, and he curls in on himself.

"Didn't sleep well," she says to no one in particular, spreading jam over a stale piece of flatbread. There's a dog-eared book in her lap, and her tail brushes against the stool leg as it sways absently behind her. Ignis ties her locs back out of her face as she eats. She doesn’t look at him. That hurts worse than anything else.

Aurum's ears pin back as Scintilla glares at him from where she sits next to their sister. "No wonder," she says dryly. Her fingers work at a piece of silver jewelry that had come off of one of her braids in the night. “Someone doesn’t know how to be considerate if the instructions were written out and shoved into his face.”

"I'm sorry," Aurum mumbles, tail curled around his calf as he goes to get himself something to eat. He knows his mother has already left for her duties, but he can't quite remember if his father had a meeting scheduled for this morning or the next day. It's always best to try and appease his denmates just in case he's still home.

Even then, it doesn't really matter if Inferno's home or not. Despite walking on eggshells around them, trying his best to be civil and accommodating, one of his sisters will find something, say something, to report back to their parents. Kicking the coals to restart the fire, whether they mean to or not.

Aurum's used to it by now anyways. No use complaining. He takes a deep breath and turns his back to rummage through a cabinet. Their eyes burn into his skull.

"Quit saying you're sorry, Aurum," Scintilla scoffs. Even with his back turned, Aurum knows his sister has her fangs bared. She sounds like their mother. "We keep going through this because you won't listen to Mother. You are ruining our lives. All you are is a broken record. You're not sorry."

His tail lashes behind him and he whirls on his feet to face her, forgetting all about finding something to eat. "Quit telling me how I feel, Till!"

She just rolls her eyes, snarling a little under her breath. "Don't call me that."

"I can't call you your name?" Aurum snaps, meeting her glare and baring his own teeth in response. "I can't call you your Prince-damned name?"

Her eyes flare with fire, smoke curling from her nostrils. "Tilly isn't my name, you belligerent asshole!"

He snarls, lunging for the counter, and she swats at him, hissing and spitting. Her claws catch the back of his hand, and Aurum shouts as she rakes them across it. "Fuck you," he snarls, clutching his hand to his chest. Dark blood oozes like magma from the cut.

"Oh, get over yourself," Scintilla says, rolling her eyes, getting up from her seat and grabbing her bag. "It's time to go, Ig. We’re gonna be late if we don’t." Ignis follows close behind her, giving Aurum one last glance as she too grabs her bag and follows her sister out the door. The anger Aurum sees there stings like salt in a cut.

He stands stock still until the door latches shut behind them. Aurum snarls under his breath, shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes. He can feel his pulse in his temple and in the gash across the back of his hand. The house is silent around him.

Aurum clenches his fists, claws digging into the meat of his palms. He hastily wipes the blood from the back of his hand. It burns. Or is it just his eyes burning that he feels?

He doesn't know and he doesn't care.

Aurum glances down the hallway to his parents' room, trying to determine if his father is still home. When Inferno doesn't come out from his own room or the living room with all of the commotion, Aurum takes a deep breath, lets it out on a sigh. He marches up the hallway and throws his bag back into his nest. Fuck it all, he's not going. He's already going to have to face his pack's disappointment for being a bad fire ghoul.

He might as well give them something different to be disappointed with. Stir it up a little bit.

Aurum heads out then, glancing down the street to his sisters' backs as he turns in the opposite direction. Fuck being a broken record, he scoffs to himself. Under the anger, a dread starts to settle in his chest. He bottles it up for now.

He keeps his head down as he walks deeper into the heart of the City. He knows his parents should both be at work, but they could very well see him ditching his tutor.

It'll get back to them eventually. Of course it will. But Aurum has things he wants to do before he has to deal with those consequences.

Aurum ducks down a side street between two tall buildings, ignoring the ghouls and demons of all elements moving around him, living their lives. He's grateful that they ignore him, despite all of the gold in his hair and ears that marks him as family of the First.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Palace looms over the rest of the skyline, growing ever closer. Aurum feels his heart race, knowing his mother, let alone the Prince Himself, are in that building, and he's walking closer like he wants to be caught.

He keeps walking, head down, breathing in the scent of a street vendor's wares, frying flatbread and sweet and savory fillings. Aurum's stomach growls. He realizes he didn't actually get a chance to eat before rushing out. There's a few coins in his pants pockets, but food can come later. He has something far more important he wants to get done first.

The Palace looms large on the hill in the center of the City when Aurum steps out of the side street. But he turns his back to it. Saint Jezebel's chapel is a much smaller building, ash grey brick and glass stained every color Aurum could ever imagine. There are grander churches, the ones he attends with his family for Black Mass.

But no one ever looks for him at Saint Jezebel's.

Aurum pushes open the door as quietly as he can, slipping inside. He takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders as he takes in the chapel. He's the only ghoul here, much to his relief. Aurum doesn't need anyone questioning him right now.

He slips into the last pew, eyes forward to the statue on the altar. She'd once been human, Up Top, a long time ago. She’s beautiful, carved from perfect white stone by a ghoul long gone by now.

Aurum clasps his fingers together, resting his wrists on the pew in front of him, before bending to press his forehead to his forearms. He takes a deep breath. "Our Father, who art in Hell," he begins, barely a breath louder than a whisper, eyes squeezed shut, focused on that little seed of flame at his very core. "Unhallowed be thy name. Cursed be thy sons and daughters, of thine nemesis who are to blame. Thy Kingdom Come, Nema."

The little speck of flame caged in his ribs, his magic, the core of his being, flickers in acknowledgment. Aurum tries to spiritually warm his hands by the flame. The Prince had made his ancestors, and by extension Aurum himself, in His own image. Had stepped forth from the fires of the Pit, unholy Creation to rival His Forsaker's.

"Infernal Majesty," Aurum whispers, the air still and quiet around him. "I offer my thanks, to be created in Your image, a creature of fire to burn away all Holy. I know this to be true, Olde One."

His eyes dart behind his eyelids. He knows he's alone. But he can feel Saint Jezebel's eyes, even as she looks through the window behind him. Above him. He wonders if she knows he’s here.

"You love Your creations, like Your father was supposed to love You. And You have made us good, and right, and powerful. I try my best to live up to that legacy, and the future You personally have seen for me."

He looks up, opens his eyes. Saint Jezebel stares out the window towards the Palace.

"Lord Lucifer, Prince Morningstar of the Nine Hells, creator and protector of Your children, I pray to borrow an ounce of the strength it took You to stand up to him. I just want to be a good son, Majesty. I want to make Mama and Dad happy, and do good by you. I don't know why I can't get better."

He hastily wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, dropping his head as he continues to pray. The tears sting the cut still there. "Unholy Lord, if all of Your children are made in Your image, why am I bad?"

The chapel is silent. Aurum's question hangs on the air. Even the little spark of magic at the very core of him, forever dancing and flickering, feels like it's frozen still. Saint Jezebel stares.

Aurum swallows hard, lowers his head again, and keeps praying. "O, most unholy Lord, grant me the sacrilege of your knowledge. Open the channels of my infernal soul and bring sweet release to the darkness inside of me. O, let my understanding of Your abhorrent secrets bring me closer to thee. Nema."

The whispered words almost seem to echo throughout the empty chapel. Or maybe Aurum just feels too small, insignificant to be heard. He asks anyways. "The dream from last night, Lord. A-are you leaving me? Am I that bad a ghoul? What's wrong with me? Why won’t it stop?"

Despite his pleas, desperation souring his scent, Aurum knows the only way he's getting an answer is if he marches right into the Palace. He’s just a kit, he knows they're not going to listen to him if he demands audience. He knows his mother likes to talk. He knows what she's said about him.

He wonders if the Prince hates him. It’s a thought that tastes bitter. But sometimes, the helpful things are. It’s almost like medicine.

Aurum stops praying. Just rests his forehead on his arms, feels the bench in front of him dig into them with the pressure. Lets himself be aware of sensation. Tries to shut off his mind. Can’t quite do it.

He’s only aware of time passing when his stomach growls. Services aren’t until the evening, but the chapel’s always open to those who need it. Which, right now, seems to be only him. He’s never been so grateful to be alone.

Aurum stretches when he stands, and is almost sent back on his ass with the force of the dread that hits him. He can’t stay here forever. And leaving means tucking his tail between his legs and sneaking back home. Walking willingly into the lion’s den.

But it’s not like he has any other choice. Aurum has to go home. Or whatever he’s walking into will be far worse when they eventually drag him back.

They’re waiting for him when he returns. Of course they are. Aurum stops in his tracks, ears pinning back and tail curling tight around his calf as his parents glare daggers at him. “M-mother, Father,” he breathes.

“Would you care to explain where you were, Aurum?” Pyra asks, her arms crossed over her chest. Her magma-like markings swirl and ripple, heat radiating off her like her anger. “Your sisters said you never showed up at the tutor’s.”

Aurum shrugs, swallowing hard as he steels himself, forcing himself to hold eye contact with his mother. “They left without me. I wouldn’t doubt that they’re making things up just to rile you up.”

“Lying isn’t a good look on you, Aurum,” Inferno warns. He bares his teeth, and Aurum fights every instinct not to bare his throat in submission. “We found your bag in your nest.”

“I’m not lying.” He at least has the audacity to look his father in the eye as he lies.

“Oh, I’m sure,” he scoffs, stepping towards him. “Get in here. Quit standing in the threshold.”

“Of course, Father,” Aurum says. Every emotion, all of the fear and doubt and anger, swirl inside his chest until all he feels is tired. He crosses his arms, mirroring his mother.

“Don’t take that tone,” he growls. Aurum just huffs.

“Now what? Let me guess. You’re just going to scream at me until you’re happy, and then send me off to bed so we can do this all again in the morning.” He’s fucking exhausted. Aurum hurts.

“We don’t do this because it makes us happy,” Pyra spits. Her eyes burn, flashing orange and red like embers kicked back to life. “We do this because you refuse to fucking listen, Aurum. You have the power to put an end to this. The ball is in your court. This is on you.”

He just laughs. It’s better than bursting into tears. Inferno lunges at him, infuriated by his blatant disrespect. Aurum flinches back, eyes wide as his father grabs him, pulling him closer to him and his mate.

“I can’t end this, because no matter what I do, it’s not good enough,” he hisses, trying so hard to hold himself together. He knows how they react when he cries. He pulls fruitlessly at his arm.

“It would be good enough if you just did what you were told and tried,” Pyra snaps. “That is quite literally all we ask for, Aurum. That does not feel unreasonable to ask for. We ask for you to just try.”

“I do!” he yells, wrenching his arm from his father’s grip. He feels his body temperature steadily rising. “That’s all I fucking do! I try, and I try, and I try, and you’re never fucking happy! What the fuck do you really want?”

For a moment, his mother just looks sad. But Aurum has no fucking pity for her, for his sisters, for his father. His parents don’t answer, just stare at him.

“What do you want,” Aurum tries again, gritting his fangs. “Tell me exactly what you want, so I can be a good enough son for you. Or is that just it, that you want a different kit because I’ve so thoroughly and repeatedly failed you?”

“Aurum, that’s not what we want and you know it-” Pyra tries to protest. Aurum just rolls his eyes.

“Am I making you a disappointment to the Prince? Am I fucking up your most honorable career, Mother? Aren’t you so disappointed that you’re not raising a good enough successor? Come on, tell me.”

“Don’t bring that into this, Aurum,” Inferno snaps, but Aurum ignores him. Much to his parents’ dismay, all they’ve really done is made him excellent at tuning them out. He cocks his head, raising his eyebrows as he waits for his mother’s answer.

“Mother, you know it’s true. The Prince blessed me, so you say, and I’m proving Him wrong.”

Pyra’s eyes ignite, and if Aurum weren’t so angry, so exhausted, he’d be truly afraid.

"You are so fucking inconsiderate!" Pyra screams, baring each of her fangs. Her markings ripple like lava, running down her arms and glowing bright. "If you were anyone else's son, they would have given up on you by now. You are squandering that blessing, and we still haven't given up on you, Aurum."

Aurum's heart and fists clench so tight he can smell blood. "Well," he says, swallowing hard to keep his voice as level as he can. "Maybe you should give up on me."

He gives his mother one last glare before he turns and walks out of the door.

"Aurum, get back here!" Inferno roars, but it's cut off as Aurum slams the door shut. With a jolt of fear, he starts to run.

Aurum doesn't look back, but he doesn't hear the door open after him. Granted, all he can hear is his heart pounding at his ribs, his panting breaths, his feet on the paving stones. He doesn't know where he's going, just lets his feet carry him away away away.

He slams open the doors to Saint Jezebel's for the second time in twenty four hours, and once again, he is alone. The offering candles flicker at her feet, lit for services that are soon to start, and the sight of fire makes Aurum's chest sting even more.

He storms up the aisle, a growl building in his throat as he reaches up to his hair. Aurum knows he doesn't have that much time before someone caves and comes looking for him. He can't go back. But he moves with purpose until he stands underneath Saint Jezebel, her eyes looking up to the window, out to the Palace.

They do not look down upon him.

With shaking fingers, Aurum takes out every last piece of adornment in his hair and ears. Each cuff and ring and charm, the gold gleaming in his palm, the tiny red gems that had been woven into his braids. It takes longer than he'd like, struggling as he makes himself bare for the first time in his life.

The pile in his hands clatters as they shake. Aurum stares at the jewelry, what had marked him as one of the First and as a ghoul in service to the Prince. Some of the pieces had been his mother's, his father's, grandparents', some from ghouls even older and long gone before Aurum had been born.

Each and every one of them had spent their lives in service to the Prince.

Aurum snarls, staring up at Saint Jezebel. His back is to the Palace. "I asked for protection," he says slowly. Something burns in his chest, nasty and acrid and curling up the back of his throat. "I begged You for safety, from them, from her, and You ignored me. I thought I was Your child! I thought You fucking cared!"

His knees tremble. If he were any less angry, adrenaline burning through him stronger than his magic ever has, he might have fallen to them.

Instead, he balls his fist around the pile of adornment. The metal digs into the cuts on his palm. He turns, staring out the stained glass window out to where the Palace sits on the hill. He hopes the Prince can hear him.

"I'm not your fucking child anymore," he snarls, chest heaving. "I'm no one's."

He turns back to the statue of Saint Jezebel and throws his adornment at her feet. "Fuck You!" he screams, drowning out the sound of the metal clattering on the marble. Aurum's eyes burn, vision hazy. "If You wanted me to care, You wouldn't have made me bad, wouldn't have given them a reason to hate me. Fuck You."

Aurum turns and storms out of the chapel, slamming the doors behind him before he starts to run. The Palace is behind him.

For the first time in his life, Aurum leaves the City. And he doesn’t turn back.

[avastyetwats]

Cooking was one of Fet’s favorite things to do, something he learned from his mother. It was both a creative outlet and something that helped him to destress. Some recipes he learned from his mother, others from videos or cooking shows and the like, and some he learned on his own, by trial and error. By experimenting. His own delicious concoctions. There were even times he’s cook something tasty, and healthy, for his stray little kitties that liked to hang around his apartment. His heart clenched at the thought of his sweet furbabies, hoping that they were alright, but with the strigoi out and about, he feared the worst. But cats were survivors. Independent and powerful hunters, but also affectionate with the right people which was one of the many reasons he loved them. They also helped him keep the New York City streets clean from rats. He smiled just thinking about them.

He started to hum a tune as he stirred the veggies and seared the steaks, clearly in his element from how relaxed he was. Almost as if he’d forgotten about the end of the world just outside. As if nothing was wrong and everything was right. And with Quinlan here? It certainly felt like that. Like… like this was their home and he was cooking a meal for him. The thought made his heart flutter, warmth filling him once again, but it was also kind of crazy, wasn’t it? To think of something like that when they hadn’t even kissed. Or when they didn’t even know what they were. It was basically the equivalent of dating someone and already talking about moving in together after only a week. Too soon… but then again, was it really if you felt so strongly and so sure?

Shit. The steak! He’d become distracted by his thoughts that he left the steak sizzling a little longer than intended, so he quickly flipped it and sighed in relief seeing that the cooked side wasn’t overdone. His preferred was medium rare. Anyone that ate well done wasted the steak. And rare? Well… he couldn’t judge, now could he? But he could tease and that’s exactly what he did when offering Quinlan a steak.

“Hey, what can I say? I’m a very persuasive guy.” He smirked, walking to the fridge and opening it up. He scanned the shelves and let out an “ah-ha!” When he found it. He grabbed the steak sauce and walked back to the stove, applying it to the meat with an excited hum. Then he applied some seasoning and damn did it smell good! “Best seasoning for steak right here. It—“ His words stopped when he turned and found Quinlan in fewer layers of clothing. The vest hugged his form and he could see the outline of his torso and found himself wondering what he looked like underneath. He seemed muscled, well built and in great shape and… hmm, did he have nipples? He shook his head. “Huh? No. Nah, think I’m good here. If you want to pour the drinks, that’d be great.” He looked at the blood bag in his hand. “Water for me, though.” He joked, taking the steak off of the pan and throwing on another. He was a big boy and he was hungry. “Want to try a bite?” He cut a piece of the still sizzling piece, moaning at how juicy it looked. “This one’s cooked, but you never know, you might like it with the seasoning.”

The touch to his shoulder was a little comfort, but in this moment he sort of wished he had hugged him. Had they even embraced yet? He actually didn’t think so. Quinlan was indeed short on hugs, and he wasn’t exactly sure how he’d act if he received one, other than maybe awkwardly try to return it.

He’d spoke of supplies in hopes of changing the subject, but clearly Fet knew that and he was wanting to comfort him. Fet was forever an optimist, and he knew he didn’t need to tell him that. They both knew that this family was dead.

But the question as to her name. He almost said Jessica until he realized. It had been two hundred years, but he would always remember that name. “ Lizzy. “ He reached out to toy with the elephant a moment, because he wasn’t quite sure he could look him in the eye. He might actually start to cry, which he hadn’t done in a very long time. “ I used to buy her things like this. She had plenty, but what was one more doll? “ He took a deep breath, sighing. “ I bought her this beautiful stitched coudoroy bear. “ A little smile. “ It was her favorite. “ He slightly sniffed.

[chaosduckies]

WHAT

I was so unprepared for this smh-

oh my gosh I can’t thank you guys enough 🫶 it means a lot to me, and I mean it!

If im being honest, I have no idea what i was going to do to celebrate, but I hope that this is good enough unless someone has a better idea:

I will be doing writing commissions (for free ofc because y’all are amazing). It can be pretty much any prompt as long as it’s sfw and in my comfort zone (I’ll let you know if it’s not)

Characters can range from my own (a scenario ik a lot of you are dying to read of my OC’s perhaps?), your own OC’s (please give me a ref or smth please TwT), or it it’s just a prompt I’ll make random characters- (please specify what gender you want the main characters to be)

I’ll keep the commissions open for a week or longer depending on what happens, but thank you all again for 100 followers! It means a lot to me and I hope you all have an amazing day/night like the amazing people you are! :D

[dragonagepolls]

how long do we think it’ll take people to finish veilguard. a month? two months?

[acepandemi]

You wanna know something that I think sucks?

There are things I love doing, that I would like to do frequently, even every day if I could. But, for various reasons, I actually can't do these things more than occassionally, and sometimes with nasty consequences.

For instance: I'd love to be able to write more. I love making up stories, I have so many ideas that I want to put on paper so bad. But for whatever reason, actually writing (well, you know, typing) is one of the most energy-draining activities in existence for me. I don't know why, just like I don't know why yardwork is so much more draining for me than housework (which is draining enough but yardwork is worse) other than "It's an Autism thing". But if I write even a short chapter I am so tired afterwards, and it sucks. (writing essays was even worse, there's a reason I regularly have nightmares about having to write essays)

Cooking is another example. I like to cook, and bake, and try out new recipes, and I'm actually quite good at it. I'd love nothing more than to be able to cook every day. In reality? I manage to cook maybe once a week, and it completely exhausts me. It's one of the reasons I struggle with eating healthy. (Yes, I am familiar with batch cooking, that's what I usually do when I do manage to cook, so at least I'll benefit from it for several days.)

The one I'm maybe most salty about though, is swimming. I hate sports, like really really badly. I have a lot of sports-related trauma (long story, combination of pushy adults and undiagnosed disabilities, both of the physical and mental variety), and there really isn't any sport or form of exercise that I actually enjoy. Except swimming. I love swimming, I love the feeling of being in water, and how weightless and free swimming makes me feel, and that I can move around in the water without pain. I wish I could swim a few laps every day.

I'm allergic to chlorine. No, really. If I go to a chlorine pool, I get sick for at least a week, maybe two. Proper, lie-in-bed-to-miserable-to-move sick. Swimming lessons as a kid were fun. I was sick for an entire year, to the point I'd forgotten it is possible to breathe through your nose. The only pool around these parts that doesn't have chlorinated water (saline instead), is a fancy spa pool on the other side of the border, too expensive and not easily accessible enough for me to regularly go to. As for swimming in natural water, there's two local "swimming holes" but of course that would only be an option if the weather is nice enough (which it usually isn't, especially with my specific physical limitations [I have, in fact, gotten sick before after going swimming in these waters]), at which point it immediately gets ridiculously crowded, which, yeah, no thanks.

Sometimes people get sceptical about me being disabled, saying things like: "Oh, so you can't work but you can do fun stuff? Sounds suspicious!" (Like when I tell people I like hiking. It's decompression for me.) And I tell them: "Ehm, no, actually I can't." (I can't go hiking as often as I'd like either, I have plenty of days where I'm not even able to leave the house.)

Yeah, being disabled sucks. I've accepted it, but I don't like it.

[foragings]

collapses. it has been <48 hours without my partner and i miss them so much

[tonycries]

SOOO ANXIOUS

Synopsis. When he’s a 10 but the pulI-out game is non-existent.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, creampíes, breéding, breaking the condóm, overstím, Gojo’s powers going haywire, spítting, cúmplay, NÉEDY BOYS, marathon séx, chokíng, SLIGHT dàddy kínk (Nanami’s), jealousy (Sukuna), first times (Choso), limitless, exhíbitionísm (Sukuna), true form! Sukuna, dp, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k (wild omg)

A/N. Ty to that one anon for reminding me of Gojo and his limitless, I just had to. Hope y’all have a lovely day <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - When life gives you…

Dammit, Toji knew he should’ve looked over your shopping list closer. He knew he should’ve spent just a little longer at the convenience store searching for that special brand the two of you always used - the only one that could fit his massive size - instead of rushing home like a madman to fuck you sloppily into your silken sheets.

He knew. 

But, well, feeling that thin excuse of rubber that was once coating his achy cock snap open - crashing his raw, leaky tip right against the bottom of your syrupy pussy, bruising - he certainly didn’t have any regrets either. 

“Whoops.” you hear Toji’s ragged, unapologetic huff against your ear. Lips quirking up into a smirk when you’re looking up at him in question with those cockdrunk eyes of yours. “Broke the condom again.” he explains. 

And as if to confirm, he’s sliding a calloused palm right down to the bulging area of your slit, sliding his eager fingers along the edge of that glossy piece of tattered rubber, “Now what do you suppose we do about that, ma?”

What?

And it’s all you can do to whirl your glassy gaze down at where he was already admiring. The sinful sight of your ravaged pussy winking lewdly up at you - puffy lips spread to bulge about his angry, red cock. Beading a sheen of your sweet sweet juices down his length, being swallowed up greedily. His raw length. 

“Toji–” you hiss, digging the balls of your heels at those dimples down the bottom of his spine, making him hiss in delight. “You bought the wrong ngh- brand of condoms? Again? This is the fifth time this week.”

And oh he found it so cute when you’re mad at him like this, pretending like your absolute slut of a cunt didn’t just get wetter at the feeling of his cock throbbing against your walls. Milking him so good that he can’t help but let his addicted hips move in lingering thrusts, jamming into your g-spot over and over like a little apology. 

He’s humming, “Accident- ouch!” 

The thick head of his cock pulses even deeper inside you when you give his muscled pecs a bratty smack. “Fine fine- I may have uh- rushed jus’ a bit.” As if to wipe away that tiny bit of guilt in his words, Toji’s hips are thrashing harder into you, merciless. “But heyyyy—” he leans down to drag his lips against your own in a messy kiss. “Y’know what they say, when ngh- l-life gives you the wrong pack of condoms, give her a creampie.”

You narrow your eyes, “Y-you’re such a-”

But within a millisecond, he’s dragging his swollen cock out of your snug cunt - barely, just enough to pull off those flimsy dredges of whatever was left of his condom after those bullying thrusts he’d been planting on your poor pussy. 

“I’m jus’ being resourceful, woman” Toji chokes out when you bite down on his collarbone at the audacity. Before plowing on, words dripping with faux-apology, “Ahhh what to do, such a shame I forgot to get the r-right condoms. Whatever shall we do, ma?”

Before diving straight back into your heavenly entrance, purposefully taking his time to rub against every hidden nook and cranny of your walls. Toji throws his head back, defined abs bowing into you, “I know. How about this time insteada pulling out, you finally let me cum inside?”

And you knew Toji had such a mean cock, and fucked you even meaner. But fuck this was ridiculous. 

“Ngh- T-Toji!” you’re keening with every heavy smack of his balls against your stinging ass, being rocked further and further up the drenched mattress with the force of his sharp jabs. “You’re lucky you feel too ngh- good this way.”

“Heh, see? What did I tell ya? Now fuckin’ come-” Thick fingers wrap around your hips, pulling your back down, down, down - deep to spearhead his cock into your sweet spots. “-here-” Rendering you unable to escape, unable to do anything but be splayed out like such a slut while he’s molding your cunt to the shape of his length. Frenzied. Crazed. The complete opposite of the smugly gentle kisses he presses to your teary cheeks, “-and take my actual cock like a good girl, doll. Lemme make you a mama.”

The thought has you letting out such pitiful whimpers, thighs quivering. “Hah- m’gonna cum. M’so close, Toji-”

Gripping him so tight you could feel the outline of his prominent veins, the sensitive spots along his shaft. Toji’s brows furrow in concentration, letting out a sultry drawl of words, “Yeah? Is this pretty pussy gonna cum?” He reaches down to toy a long index around your neglected clit, sending your eyes rolling back with a moan. “Gonna be stuffed full of my seed like she’s supposed to?”

You can only get out a few bleary nods, and usually Toji would tease you a little more - have you begging and crying. But right now he’s so fucked. 

The feeling of your squeezing walls too tight, the crashing of his sensitive tip against your spongy g-spot too much that the only thing he can grit out is a low, “Then cum- cum f’me, doll.”

 He feels it before you realize you’re cumming, just running on wave upon wave of pure electricity running down your spine while Toji ruts into you so animalistically. Reeling back only for a few sloppy, solid half-thrusts - because you couldn’t bear to separate too much from your cunt - before spilling into you.

And - oh, he was only mad he didn’t do this sooner.

“Oh this is the stuff- fuuuuck this- is- what I needed- take it.” Thick rope upon rope of his hot cum, decorating your saturated walls. So much that it was gushing out of you with each pump of Toji’s hips fucking it deeper inside you - the thought of pulling out not even daring to cross his mind. Oozing. Messy. “Take it all. Make me a daddy again, why don’t ya.”

After all, he did pick the wrong brand for a reason, right?

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Family matters!

The office can be loud - given, it’s hours past everyone’s shift and you and Nanami were the only ones cooped up in his office working overtime right now. 

But still, the office can be loud - which is why Nanami Kento isn’t exactly sure he hears you correctly the first time. Not until you keep looking at him with that sultry, determined graze, spit-glossed lips moving to repeat, “I want a baby, Ken.”

It only takes three seconds for him to lock the door and shove you against the cool mahogany of his desk, bunching up that cute pencil skirt of yours at the waist. Which, Nanami thinks, unbuckling his expensive pants to swipe his angry tip between your slobbering slit, is three seconds too late in his opinion.

“You really wan’ me to disrespect your cute cunt this way, my pretty lil’ wife?” he’s purring into your ear, just a soft reassurance before he absolutely fucking ruins you. “Because m’not going hah- easy on you this time.”

And maybe you’re a genius, maybe you’re an idiot who doesn’t know what’s good for her - because you flash him a grin, “So are ya gonna fuck me or not?”

Soon enough, that grin was turning into your jaw sagging open lewdly, drool trickling down the corner of your lips with every bullying squeeze of Nanami’s massive cock inside you. Stretching out every inch of your gummy walls around his swollen girth. 

“Oh God—” you’re moaning, eyes rolling to the back of your head with each harsh ram. Wiggling hips mindlessly torn between running away and fucking yourself back onto your husband’s bludgeoning cock for more. 

He’s shutting you up with a gentle suck on your candied lips, humming into the kiss, “Jus’ ‘Ken’ works fine, my love.”

And it takes you a few seconds to register his remark - a few, dizzying seconds of being spearheaded by Nanami’s fat tip. Roaming, heavy balls smacking the fat of your ass when he angles his hips just right to ruthlessly kiss against that one sweet spot he knows you love so much. Swirling his furious tip around to find-

“Oh fuck!”

There.

Merciless. Nanami Kento is absolutely merciless. 

And all you can do is scramble your jittery fingers towards his desk, his forgotten work documents, him - your body is moving before your heated mind when you reach behind to drag Nanami in closer by his yellow, speckled tie. 

All the way until his plump lips were mere millimeters away from yours, “I actually think ‘daddy’ would work better, no?”

Oh. Oh, fuck.

He was completely and utterly fucked. 

It takes the both of you by surprise when a large hand comes up to your neck, thick fingers squeezing hard around your pretty throat. The cold metal of Nanami’s wedding ring burning into your skin when he shuts up those filthy words of yours. 

“Ken-”

“Shut up. Sh-shut up, darling I’m- fuck I’m-” is all Nanami’s able to stutter out before his hips grow sloppy. And you could feel the way his twitching cock massaged at your plushy walls, the wet sounds of skin-and-skin becoming more and more languid before-

Nanami doesn’t think he’s ever cum this embarrassingly fast in his life. Never did it only take him a few more mean, calculated thrusts into your heavenly cunt until he’s spurting thick wisps of his seed. Coating your poor pussy in a sheen of his cum - of him. 

He whimpers, bending his long legs at the knees to grind up deeper into your, feeling the warm slosh of his own seed inside. 

“Fuck Ken–” you wheeze, throat raw from the unforgiving hand still around it. Vision spotty and you feel like floating - or maybe that’s just the way Nanami had you lifting off the ground with each relentless ram. “Gonna be the ngh- fuckin’ death of me.”

“Hah, you’re gonna be the hngh- death of me.” he groans, free hand coming up to slide his glasses further up his nose. Shit, if Nanami angled his head just right he could see that sinful, sinful trail of cum down your legs. Glistening under the dim office lighting, forming a little pool right at that crevice between your thigh. “Yeah oh fuck- m’not getting out of this alive. Not with you, darling.”

And oh you should’ve known. Should’ve had an inkling at the way Nanami was still achingly rock-hard between your legs. At the way he innocently grazes a thumb across your sloppy hole, pooling the heady mix of cum and slick on the pads of his fingers - before shoving them right back in. Skirting around that depraved shaft of his to squeeze whatever dredges of seed he could get his hands on back inside you.

It was making such a mess - with each bullying pump of Nanami’s fingers at your dripping cunt, cum was gushing out of your wrecked hole. Slow, and torturous. 

Exactly the way he was moving back inside of you now, reeling his toned hips back to smash right into your sweet spots. Dragging that orgasm out of you - out of him, “Gotta make sure it takes, right?”

Suddenly, you have the feeling that it’s going to be a long, long night working overtime.

♡ GETO SUGURU - The egoist

“C’mon, gorgeous.” that low, satiny purr has your cunt quivering traitorously. “You’re really gonna hold out on me like this?”

It takes every bit of willpower in you to tear your eyes from the absolutely sinful sight below you - because Geto Suguru was so unfairly pretty - even with his wrists tied helplessly below you to the bedposts. So delicately flushed a cute pink from his high cheekbones, right down to his thick, sobbing tip. Looking up at you through half-lidded, glassy eyes, peeking from under his long hair. 

Hair you thread through to gather in a harsh grip, “Mhm, Sugu, if you’re gonna be so cocky when m’letting you cum inside me then I jus’ hafta- ngh!”

Your foolish little threat is dying in your chest when your beloved boyfriend is wrenching his hips up. Having you teetering precariously, clinging onto his sculpted abs when he uses them to fuck his cock up into you slobbering cunt. 

“Hah!” his dark eyes widen in delight at the sight of how readily your slutty cunt was making way for him. Puffy folds being split apart to swallow every fucking inch he gives. “Just look at what a filthy lil’ cunt you have, my girl. So needy despite all your talk.”

“Th-that’s cheating.” you tug on his soft silky restraints. Eyeing the way they were firmly digging into his milky skin. “Maybe I ah- won’t- let you-”

Another ragged jut of his hips, the thick curve of Geto’s swollen cock spearing into you, pulsing against your sensitive spots until you couldn’t think. He’s gasping, “No!” Letting out such a pained grunt when your spongy walls cling onto him like a second skin. “No no no no- jus’ fuck m’gonna have you begging for my cum.”

And if Geto had his hands untied you just knew he’d be gifting your sobbing cunt a punishing smack! So that’s exactly what you do - letting out such a teasing whine of his name when you slap the pads of your fingers down across your sopping slit. Stopping right below your clit - exactly the way he does.

“Still real cocky, aren’t you?” you purr, so sultry and low, sending a fresh wave of precum painting at your bruised cervix. 

“Fuuuck- you little minx. This won’t- ngh-” he hisses. “You’re gonna fuckin’ regret holdin’ out on me.”

There it was again - that little accusation. The same little mantra that’d been falling from Geto’s glossed-over lips ever since you tied his wrists together and straddled him after a few too many goading comments on how you won’t be able to “handle him” if he came inside.

Scoffing, “Yeah yeah that’s what a sore loser-”

Fuck, it seems he’s well and fully intent to not have you run your pretty mouth. 

Pushing past your feeble little ring of resistance to draw at your honeyed walls. Running his angry tip along each and every sweet spot he’d so meticulously mapped out before.

“I warned you, gorgeous.” His breaths are wrenching out so strained, low groans leaving him with how your plushy walls were trying to suck out something delicious. “Warned you it was- ngh was gonna be too much. And now look at you.” He’s chuckling, so utterly unapologetic. “Fucked dumb and taking my cock like the slut you are. How’d you feel about that, huh?”

It’s so embarrassing. 

Embarrassing how good you were feeling, stars behind your eyes every time Geto is smashing deep into your core. Embarrassing how you can barely even hold yourself up at this point, instead collapsing right into the valley between Geto’s pecs, lips drooling with need. 

Embarrassing how you can’t even answer his question.

And this is what makes him smile - full and content. Craning his head down to kiss softly at your slack lips, “That’s what I thought. Now beg for it, beg for my cum.”

“Wh-what?” you snap your eyes open. Moaning lowly at the drag and pull of his fat shaft, stretching out your narrow channel with each ram of his hips. Angling your boneless body just right for those tufts of black at his toned base to rub against your clit so obscenely. 

“You hear me. Or you can’t hear as well as- ngh- speak now, huh? Beg for it.”

“No.”

Geto falters his hips slowly at this, “Beg for it.”

“No.”

Of course, this only makes him stop completely. Rolling his eyes in such a languid way at your clear disappointment, “Then fuck me yourself if you wanna be so mouthy.”

The result is - for Geto - the hottest fucking thing he’s ever seen. With you whining, tears springing to your eyes as you try to ride him as best you could. Yearning, craving for those bullying thrusts he’d been planting on your sweet spots. Ass jiggling when it smacks against his pelvis lazily, hips stuttering up and down his veiny cock, weeping your needy juices as you sob, “No- please I take t- ngh- back. I want your cum, Sugu. Please?”

“That’s more like it.”

And no sooner are the words out of your lips before Geto’s thrusting up into you haphazardly. Brows furrowed, abs screaming with the strain of just how hard he was pounding you. Again. And again - more to teach you a lesson, more to drive the two of you insane. Again and again and-

It only takes a few more of those lingering, ruthless kisses of Geto’s leaky tip against your g-spot for the two of you to be cumming. 

Your gummy walls convulsing, sucking up every wet glob of cum shot against them, against your womb. Geto’s full, heavy balls filling you up in mere seconds with how much he was painting your poor cunt white. Dripping down the side of your pussy lips, creating such a mess all over his base that he just can’t help but-

RIP!

Your back is hitting the mattress before you know it, Geto’s large figure looming over you- how? When did he-

“Ya really thought those would stop me from-” he takes the time to spread open your trembling legs, spying down at the mess of cum leaking out of your gaping hole now. Thick, gushing dredges of him - all him. He’s shuffling down, hot breath hitting your abused cunt, “-having my favorite meal?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Made for this.

Slam!

You’re both jolting - you at the deafening sound of your best friend’s hand slamming down on the headboard, making it creak at the sheer power. Him at those sultry little words that had just left your glossy lips, sending all the blood in his body right down to where he was buried between your shaky legs. 

Before you can react, Choso’s looming his face closer - eyes wide, jaw sagging open, voice just a whisper when he asks, “What did you say?”

And through it all, it’s a wonder you’re managing to catch your breath. Because Choso’s unforgiving cadence was barely letting up, pushing in long, solid strides of his hips to drag his fat cock against the plush of your gummy walls. “I-I said since it’s your first time n’ I wanna make this special, you should-” Looking him right in his pussydrunk eyes when you say, “-cum in me, Cho.”

Just like before, that honeyed request pulls out such a visceral reaction from him. His dewy eyes scrunch shut, thick tip kissing so deep inside your womb when he twitches animalistically. Sliding across to mark you from the inside out. 

And somewhere in your fucked-out mind, you register the snap! of wood breaking above you, Choso’s biceps flexing with movement. “Fuuuck, baby, you can’t hah- s-spring that on me like that.”

It was true - a few too many bad sex scenes on movie night, and a few too little lingering touches left you wanting more. Wanting to steal away your cute best friend’s virginity once and for all, and then some.

“Why not?” you bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently up at him. Making his poor jaw drop even further, hips stuttering forwards sloppily. “No no no no, Cho. You’re my best friend and you deserve the best.” you’re tutting, tightening your legs around his sculpted waist. Preventing any escape - as if he could ever want to run away from this heaven. “I need you to cum in me.”

It happens too fast for you to even register - before you know it, two large hands of Choso’s are hoisting your limp legs up onto his toned shoulder. Upper half bending down, down, down until he had you folded in half in such a mean mating press. 

“F-fuck don’t-” he gasps out, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the lewd change in angle. The curving divot of his head brushing up against that hot g-spot of yours, raw with so many hits. Greedy eyes locked on the way your puffy cunt was swallowing him whole. “-don’t say that! Was enough havin’ you offer your pretty lil’ cunt f’me to fuck.”

Smirking, “Cum in me, Cho. Please?”

And fuck Choso was sure he was going to pass out this very second. Collapse on top of you like an utterly fucked ragdoll. But, no - and he doesn’t know what’s more embarrassing - instead, his heavy balls are squeezing sloppily, making such a mess of you inside when he streams out thick spurts of cum.

Eyes ringing, vision spotty when he’s pouring such heavy amounts to paint your cunt white. It’s all he can do to breathe, “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck m’cumming m’sorry m’cumming m’cumming- ah- ngh-”

“F-fuck yeah give it t’me.” you murmur heatedly, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth with each pump inside reaching your lungs. Sending dredges of seed slobbering down Choso’s throbbing length, forming a pool at your inner thighs. “Give it all to me, you’re doing so good for your first time, baby.” 

Your honeyed praises stick to him like a veil of sin, having him shudder out little whines of your name. “No m’not!”

“Hm? What’re you fuuuck right there- what are you talking about? Yes, you are.” you thread your fingers through his long, damp locks. Pushing away the dark strands sticking to his forehead to connect it with yours, “Doing so good f’me.”

Choso’s breaths come out in feverish puffs, and despite having velvety strings of his cum sloshing inside your walls right now, he was still hard. Still painfully hard with each overstimulated shove into your dripping cunt. 

“Dreamt of this for so long.” he drawls, ragged. A soft thumb coming down to draw on your clit, “Been wanting you for so long n’ you have no idea. M’ jus- fuck your pussy is just too perfect, my girl.” That little confession has you clenching around him so tight. Forcing Choso to hike up a knee to stretch your thighs so far apart it burned, letting him accelerate his hips. “Too much that I can’t keep it- hah- together. S’like she’s made f’me. Jus’ wanna fill you up until you can’t take it- ngh-” 

A particularly harsh kiss to your sweet spot has Choso’s seed oozing out of your puckered hole even more. So slutty in the way that you were still clamping down to milk the soul out of him all through it. 

His pretty pink lips fall into a soft oh! at the sight. Movements languid, hypnotized when the erratic, slender fingers on your clit move down. Swirling at the treacled ring of cum around his hilt, where your pussy lips were mashing against his toned pelvis. 

You have half the mind to wonder if Choso even realized what he was doing - whether he was even breathing - as he raises those fingers to your mouth. Immediately parting your kiss-bitten lips to suck his glossy fingers clean.

The eager, lewd squelches from above and below have him pushing your body up to thrust even harder - hissing, “Oh you really ngh- made f’me.”

“Well then…” you start, muffled. And your tone already has Choso gulping. Waiting on your every word. “Why don’t you cum inside me again to make up for it and the broken headboard?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - HEIR

Now, it’s not often that Ryomen Sukuna feels threatened. Him? The infamous king of curses? Don’t make him laugh, everyone knows that you’re his pretty lil’ slut, his favorite human.

But it’s times like this, with your pretty self sat where you belong - right on his fat, achy cocks, your limp legs dangling off his luxurious throne, crying and begging for him to just move - he’s reminded that maybe not everyone knows. 

“Pleeease, Kuna.” you’re dragging out of your throat, voice wrecked with need. “Jus’ need to- to cum!” And he thinks it’s so adorable how you’re trying to fuck your hips up and down on his lengths, matching tips so thick that they rut against your sweet spots without even trying. 

It’s useless, with the tight, black-nailed grip he has on your stuttering hips. Making such a mess slobbering down his cocks.

“Hmmm, I dunno if you deserve it, brat.” his smug facade is laced with something else - something dangerous now. “After all…” he’s nosing down your racing pulse, breathing in as if he could smell the lust in your blood. “-you looked real cozy with that minister from earlier.”

You’re gasping - whether from his words, or from the way his curved shafts twitch so furiously inside you, you’re not sure. 

“Wh-what?”

He scoffs, “You know what m’talkin’ about.”

And you did - unfortunately. Hazy mind showing off shreds of memories from that meeting you accompanied Sukuna to earlier today. The one where, despite being dangling off his arms the entire time, one unsavory new minister managed to throw a few crass remarks your way. Something about how good you must be and how he’d give you an-

“Heir.” It’s all that Sukuna is spitting out before thrusting up into you. Deep, slow. Like he knew you were thinking about that little altercation today and wanted to fuck out every thought of it out of your pretty lil’ mind. “That little scum had the audacity to talk to my woman about how he’d have an heir by now. As if I’m not fucking you right.”

Two thick fingers come up to smush your cheeks together into a pathetic pout, spitting into your open mouth, “I’d have killed him if you didn’t fuckin’ stop me, human.”

“B-because-” you’re crying out, eyes rolling to the back of your head with each smash of his fat tip against the bullseye of your g-spot, the other marking up your cervix. “I didn’t want to cause a scene in front of-”

“So what if I caused a scene?” Sukuna’s sharp canines are nipping down on your wobbly lower lip. The curve of his dicks stretching you so thin. Taut. Until your clingy walls molded to his shape. “Do you deny me the right to defend my woman? My future heir?”

The sopping wet sounds of your poor hole being ravaged are almost too loud for you to hear his last words. Almost.

You gasp, face lolling up from where they were pressed up against his sculpted pecs. “Wait- future heir?”

And oh how Sukuna loved the sound of that on your lips. A raw groan curling up from his throat, biting his lip while he fucks you so thorough. So purposeful. 

At this point the only thing you’re managing to get out are pitchy whines, being bounced up and down like some sextoy on the king’s cocks. His massive girths tattooing your walls with each and every twin vein and ridge.

“Mhm, ya like that?” Sukuna grins, slacking down the throne to jut his muscled abdomen upwards. “Wan’ me to breed this cute cunt with my heir?”

The only response he’s getting are your nails raking red, angry marks down his tan skin, which clearly wasn’t enough for him.

“I asked you a question, brat.” This earns you a sharp smack! to the fat of your ass, his nasty cadence only speeding up. You’re barely even lucid anymore, just being slid along his towering lengths. “Use your words n’ fuckin’ tell- me-”

“Hngh!” you’re screaming out at a particularly harsh jab against your g-spot. Big fat tears rolling down your cheeks when you mewl, “Yes! Yes I wan’ it so bad, ngh- for you to fill me up. Breed me until- ngh until everyone knows.”

The honeyed grin you’re given is something you know doesn’t bode well, Suknua’s eyes darting somewhere behind you. But that’s the last thing on your mind while he spits a thick glob of saliva on your cunt. Goading, “Well if you’re that desperate, woman.”

And it’s dizzying - if you thought Sukuna was fucking you thoughtless before then you weren’t ready for right now. 

“Fuck.” he grits out. “Yes that bastard got one thing right- I just wanna- oh-” And then he’s spitting, another steady stream of saliva right on your struggling cunt. “Wanna breed this pussy- until they know m’the one that fucks you right.” He’s rubbing a palm along your stomach, drawing a line where he could feel the bulge of his swollen cocks. “Have you round and glowing with my heir.” Moving up, up, up to cradle your bouncing tits into his greedy mouth. “Have these hah- filled with milk. And have you filled with me. They’ll all see you and see me. I did this.” 

Sukuna’s red, glowing eyes are the last thing you see before everything flashes white. And then you’re cumming - barely having the capacity to give a fair warning other than, “Oh- f-fuck Kuna m’gonna.”

It takes you a moment to realize that he is as well. The squelches from your delicious cunt only increasing twofold when he’s gifting you with thick spurts of his seed. Too much. Both fat heads throbbing in staccato with your high, so furiously before they’re erupting in a gush of pure white. Too much. 

“Ahhh yes, s’where you belong.” Sukuna breathes, voice a few octaves higher with how much he was still cumming. Hips thrusting to force such filthy movements to pump his potent seed deeper and deeper - sure enough to mark you from the inside out. “Fucked dumb on m’cocks and hah- ready to make me an heir. One to kill off all the trash I can’t.” Letting it slobber down onto his abs, pooling at the muscles. Hot loads overspilling from your tight pussy now. Shit, it’s a sight so sinful that Sukuna has to tear his eyes away to look at that slightly ajar door, brows quirking at the aghast face outside he meets. “Won’t you agree, minister?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “Do you hate me?”

“Huh- what?” you’re blinking, unsure if you even heard that correctly. Eyes darting from Gojo’s pouty pink lips to the way he was still bludgeoning his aching cock inside you, “Of course I don’t, Toru? What’s with the- hah-”

Apparently, your answer wasn’t good enough for the great Gojo Satoru, and it’s not long into your bumbling, half-drunk sentence before he’s smashing his fat tip purposefully against that honeyed g-spot he loved so much. Dragging out such cute moans from your throat while he babbles, “Then why are you- hah telling me to pull out?”

It takes everything in you to wrench your eyes open to meet his dead-serious expression, “What?”

Gojo scoffs at how fucking long it was taking your cockdrunk mind to comprehend him. Pushing your knee back further to spread your sopping cunt, squeezing his thick girth inside like some cocksleeve. “Why-” he cuts himself off with a bullying little thrust. “-are you telling- me to fuckin’ pull out.” And he sounds so genuinely devastated, voice a pitch higher than normal, breaking ever-so-slightly at the end. “Do you hate me now, sweetheart?”

“You fuckin’-” you’re spitting. Nails digging into the sides of Gojo’s pale neck when you’re pulling him closer, hissing into his panting mouth, “-idiot. I told you to- ngh- to pull out because I don’t trust that limitless of yours to work.”

“But, my girl—” he whines, burying his face to lick up the crook of your neck. “Don’ wanna leave to ah- get condoms right now. M’the strongest, when has it not worked?”

And it’s like the sole reminder of this fact is enough to spur your boyfriend on even more, because with a ragged growl he’s falling back onto his thighs - taking your boneless body right along with him. Greedy pussy sat so pretty and needy around his cock, sinking deeper and deeper down every long inch.

You could barely even feel it - limitless. Just a slight, steady pulse of jujutsu, atoms standing at attention all around your tangled bodies.  

“Oh!” you keen at the feeling of Gojo’s heft veins making their mark all along your gummy walls. Gravity sliding you down his swollen cock until your puffy folds were meeting his sharp pelvis in a messy kiss. “Y-you’re really not fuuuck- backing down, huh?”

As if to prove your point, a large palm comes up around your back, wrenching your two hands behind to pin them behind your back. Leaving you completely bare and helpless under his obscene will. 

“Nope.” Gojo hums, popping the “p”. Flashing you a fucked-out grin - and oh he looks so pretty, so wrecked with his snowy locks disheveled, cheeks a blushing pink, lips spit-glossed and worried. “How could I be when my girl- hngh feels like this?”

“S’not gonna-”

“It is-” he’s interrupting in a syrupy tone, so drunk off the way you were complaining about his limitless but taking every thrust he gives so well. “S’gonna work- it will work hngh- trust me, sweetheart.” Thumbing apart your bulging swollen folds even further to toy over your pulsing clit, “Shit- love it when you squeeze me like that. Hah- and you expected me to leave this n’ go get condoms fuckin’ right.” With every hungry thrust he’s gifting your poor pussy, Gojo’s mouth is running a mile a minute against your racing pulse. Heavy tongue lolling, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every passing millisecond you’re sucking the ever-loving soul out of him. “As if I’d wanna hah- leave this. It’ll work-”

Somewhere in-between the lingering ruts, a hand of yours runs through Gojo’s damp tresses, tugging on it to make him look. Difficult, somehow. 

“Toru…” you grip harder on his soft strands, dragging him away from his little hiding spot. Relenting, he’s slowly raising his eyes to look at you and- “Why are you-”

Oh. Shit.

If you thought Gojo was ruined before then you weren’t ready for this - his half-lidded eyes glowing, crackling with power, babbling lips sagging open in ecstacy. And if you didn’t know any better you’d have thought that the lights in your bedroom flickered dangerously just a bit. He gasps, eyes boring into yours, “What- what was I sayin’ again?”

Oh he was so fucked - and you were, too. 

Because your mouth is moving before your mind, feeling so dirty when you muse, “Told me how you were gonna- ngh- drop limitless n’ fill me up, Toru–”

Your jaw is prying open with his mean little tempo. Fat, greedy cock messing up your insides with how haphazardly he was spearing inside in weighty, animalistic thrusts. Leaving just enough time for that divot on his angry tip to peck at your sweet spots, before shoving his entire length back in and out again. Over and over and-

It only takes a mere split-second of Gojo’s limitless faltering, of him being enveloped in all your dripping heaven, before he’s cumming. And cumming so hard, gushing out so much in thick, hot streams of his heady seed.

It’s filling you up from the inside, stretching your walls taut. Sloppy. Sinful. And you can do nothing but reach your high as well, flashes of white-hot pleasure behind your eyes. Or maybe that was Gojo.

His creamy white cum kissing you inside, drooling out of your ravaged hole with every mindless push of his hips. Forcing it deeper and deeper and oh fuck, he could do this forever. Fuck condoms. Fuck limitless. He tells you that - rattles it off into your open mouth a little over fifteen times watching the coating of his cum pool a glossy sheen down your legs. Sloshing down in thick, lewd globs.

“Told you so.” you scoff. 

“That- that was just the practice round! Best out of three?”

“...”

A/N. Picked the title out for no purpose other than self-indulgence I’m ngl.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[rafesdollette]

SLEEPOVER WITH SECRET BF!RAFE

a/n: i got a request for this a few weeks ago but the ask deleted itself so I'm so sorry to whoever sent that! and i'm trying to get out of my writers block so enjoy...whatever this is. (not sure how I feel about this) not proofread!!

cw: contains smut, 18+

“come over? just for a little bit?” rafe asked as he looked at you through the facetime camera. it's been a rough day for him and you were really the only person he wanted to see right now. but it was past midnight and you weren't supposed to be out of the house around this time, let alone going to his house.

you've been told by your parents to stay away from him—countless times, actually. rafe knew he had some...things to work on, but in his mind, he wasn't that bad. at least towards you. “dunno rafe...'m already in trouble for skipping school yesterday.” you frown, tapping your manicured finger on the side of your phone. rafe sighed, sitting up against his headboard “please? it'll be quick. i'll sneak ya in and out.”

you were hesitating and that's something rafe could see clearly, but he was desperate. you were one of the only people he actually cared about these days and he didn't want to be alone right now, especially not at night.

“please..? you're the only person i want to see right now.” he pleaded, almost begging in a way. he was never one to beg, but it was the only thing he could think of that could convince you to come.

you thought it over as you bit the inside of your cheek. you knew how it would end if your parents found out you snuck out of your house. “isn't sarah home though?” rafe was silent for a moment, his hand running through his hair “no...she's out. won't be home 'til morning” he murmured. that was one less obstacle so it was one good thing. but you still weren't sure. rafe was your boyfriend and you cared about him, but sneaking out wasn't the best idea right now. “but my parents said-”

“i know sweetheart and i'm not tryna get you in trouble, but i swear it'll be like thirty minutes.” he cut you off, his tone almost desperate. you bit your lip as you leaned back against your headboard. “rafe...” you trailed off with a sigh. you weren't saying no right away, but you weren't saying yes either. it was clear you were conflicted as you hesitated before adding, “okay, fine. but just for thirty minutes. not a second longer.”

rafe's face lit up as he heard you agree. he knew he could be convincing if he wanted to and he was so glad it worked this time. “thank you baby, be outside waiting. i'll come get you.” with that, he ended the facetime, standing from his bed as he grabbed a jacket and his keys. it didn't take long for you to change into some shorts and a hoodie and put your shoes on. you carefully crept out of your room and out into the livingroom, pausing to listen for any noises. once you were sure your parents were asleep, you opened up the front door and slipped outside, shutting the door quietly behind you. by the time you were out of your house, rafe was already parked outside.

rafe was leaning against the door of his car as he waited for you. he heard the door open and shut, looking up and seeing you walking towards him. he could see you were nervous, but it didn't stop him from pulling you into a tight hug. “hey,” he greeted, his voice tired but he felt better with you in his arms. you returned his hug, leaning into the embrace. “hey...” you murmured back, your tone almost equally as tired. you could feel the exhaustion in him as he hugged you and you felt the need to ask, “you okay?”

rafe let out a sigh against your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze before leaning back “not really...” he mumbled, releasing his hold on you reluctantly. he opened the passenger side door for you, waiting until you got in before shutting the door and walking around to get into the driver's side.

you got into his car, leaning back in the seat as you looked over him. you could tell something was bothering him by the look on his face and his tone of voice. it's been a long time since he sounded that exhausted. “...rough day?”

rafe ran a hand over his face, looking over to you wearily “rough life.” he mumbled, starting up the car as he pulled out from the curb. “seatbelt.” you hummed quietly as you reached out to grab the seatbelt, buckling yourself in. you decided not to ask more about what exactly was bothering him; in time, he'd probably talk about it.

the car ride was silent as rafe drove back to his house. you didn't mind though, figuring that he needed the silence in order to calm his head for a bit. a few moments passed before he parked in his driveway, unlocking the doors and getting out. he came around the side and opened your door for you, offering his hand to help you out of the car.

you slipped your hand into his, letting him help you out of the car. walking through his yard, he quietly unlocked his front door and let you in first. “wheezie's home so we're gonna have to be quiet” he said as he shut the door behind him, locking it again.

you followed him inside “gotcha” you whispered as you looked around. “is she awake? i don't wanna be the reason she doesn't sleep.”

“she's asleep.” he mumbled, nodding towards the stairwell. “come on..” he took your hand again, quietly leading you upstairs to his bedroom. once inside, he closed the door and locked it before turning on his bedside lamp and walking over to his bed.

you followed him to his bed, crawling onto it and moving to lay back against the pillows. you could still see the exhaustion in his body as he laid down next to you, his head resting against your shoulder as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “wanna talk about anything...?” rafe was silent for a moment, almost as if he was thinking about your question. he really didn't wanna talk about anything at all. all he wanted was to lay here with you, which he thought to himself as he shook his head. “nah”

you nodded once he answered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you closed your eyes. you could tell he didn't want to talk and you were okay with that. you both laid there in comfortable silence, no sounds besides the sound of your breathing and the occasional passing of a car outside. “can i do anything to help?”

it felt good to lay here with you. it was the only real peace he's felt in weeks and it helped calm him a little. when you spoke again, he lifted his head to look at you, his tired eyes meeting yours.

he moved a bit closer to you, his arm around your waist tightening as his head rested on your chest. “this is more than enough for me, sweetheart” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your side. “i do have a request though”

you looked down at him, your fingers lightly running through his hair as you waited for him to speak. you could tell he was still thinking about something and you waited patiently before finally speaking, “what is it?” rafe's eyes closed as your fingers ran through his hair. he loved when you did that and it relaxed him greatly

he was still silent for a few more moments before finally speaking. “i need to relieve some stress.” he murmured, his fingers gently brushing against your waist once more before suddenly resting right above the drawstring of your shorts.

────୨ৎ────

“a-ah shit, rafe” your hands clench by your sides as rafe glides his tip between your drenched folds, looking down at you with this tongue between his teeth. “mmh...this wet already, darling? barely even touched ya yet.” rafe hummed, smirking down at you. all you can do is nod and let out a whimper as he tapped his cock against your cunt. “nuh-uh, words. none of that whimpering shit”

you were already a stuttering, whimpering mess as he ran his fingers over your clit. you needed more from him, wanted to feel more of him, but you knew that he wasn't going to give that to you until you answered.

you let out a shaky breath as you looked up at him, eyes wide. “yes!” you quickly whimpered, “been thinking about it all night. please, please rafe...” you whimpered, your hips bucking up in an attempt to get more from him. “i know baby, i know” rafe murmured, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he teased your clit with his thumb again “been so long since you've had this cock, yeah?”

you nodded rapidly, eyes pleading him to do something, anything. you wanted him so badly and you could tell he was just teasing, which was driving you absolutely insane. “rafe..." you murmured, your voice trembling a little. rafe chuckled softly, shaking his head “come on. don't get all shy with me now. tell me what you want” he said with a smirk, his fingers still moving over your clit, barely applying pressure. he could feel you shaking beneath him, which encouraged him to tease you a little more. “tsk tsk i want an answer. i know you know how to talk, baby. i just wanna hear your pretty little voice say it.”

you swallowed hard as you looked up at him from under your lashes; he looked so damn proud of himself. you were almost positive he got off on teasing you like this, and the last thing you wanted to do was give him that satisfaction. but your patience was wearing thin and you were getting desperate. you just wanted him to touch you already, but he was always so stubborn. you ran your tongue over your bottom lip as you met his gaze again, your voice shaking a little as you finally spoke up, “n-need you rafe…please...”

“mmh, that's my good girl. i knew you could do it baby.” rafe murmured, finally pushing his cock into your aching hole, causing both of you to let out simultaneous moans. “a-ah fuck” you gasp, gripping onto his biceps as he pushes all the way in, making you groan at the feeling, his cock slowly slipping all the way down, filling you to the hilt, “so fuckin' tight” he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his member.

you whimper as he remains motionless, denying you the much needed friction. “mmh what do we say after i give you something, baby?”

you could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he murmured the question into your ear. he knew what he was doing. he knew exactly how to get you to say what he wanted you to say, knowing how well he filled you up and how he wasn't moving. you moaned quietly, hands moving to grip onto his back as you looked up at him with watery eyes, “thank you.”

rafe hummed and nodded against your neck, lightly kissing just under your ear as he lifted his head, “good girl.” he said “you're welcome, my love. anytime.”

he finally pulled his hips back a little, thrusting back into you “you feel so damn good, baby.” he breathed before beginning to thrust into you harder, repeatedly hitting your cervix deliciously “been too long without having you.” he murmured, his hand gripping onto the back of your thigh, lifting your leg up over his shoulder. the change of position caused his cock to slide even deeper, making you gasp.

you whimpered at the feeling of him hitting your sweet spot, unable to speak clearly “oh...oh g-god rafe” you tried, your eyes already shut as you tried to move your hips in time with his. he could feel your nails digging into his shoulders, leaving red indents. “look at me.” he murmured in your ear, his hand reaching down to grab your chin, turning your face towards his “look at me while i'm fucking you, sweetheart. ” your mind goes a little blank for a moment when he says that, only able to focus on the feeling of him inside you. it takes a few seconds before you manage to open your eyes again, meeting his gaze. rafe's eyes are focused on you, a small smirk on his lips as he sees you staring “there you are.” he hums, biting down on his lip once he feels you start to clench around him “shit, you gonna cum already?”

“yeah...mmh, so close ray.” you moan, struggling to keep your eyes on him as his hand reaches to press his thumb against your clit, rubbing tight circles. “so fast, sweetheart?” rafe murmured with a smirk “been that long, huh? gonna make a mess all over my cock already?” you don't even have time to respond before your orgasm hits you hard, your body shaking as the coil in your stomach snapped. eyes squeezed shut, walls clenching around his twitching shaft. the way your pussy cinched around him is all rafe needed to go over the edge, spilling his seed deep inside you.

“mmh ray?” you murmur, looking up at him with your glossy eyes. “hm?”

“think 'm gonna stay here tonight.”

taglist: @bunbun-3 @drewscoquette @untitled10351 @rafesweetie @meetmebehindthemallrafe @supercutelovergirl

© rafesdollette