#cause otherwise that’s some vanilla shit

[feralwritings]

eddie: oh my god they don’t care if i live or die

reader, said with barely contained lust: if he dies it’s gonna be me who kills him

[2tarbell]

vanilla birthday cake — send some dialogue 4 a short drabble with rafe + any of my !readers

mean!rafe + crybaby!reader “i don’t wanna know”

HAKSJSKSJKS

MEAN!RAFE + CRYBABY!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

participate in my bday celebration!!!

rafe had had just about enough. he wasn’t very patient to begin with but he was trying to be better — for her.

his poor little girlfriend that had a never ending supply of sorrow and tears. normally, around him, she was content as could be. and he was happy to indulge her and be the one to soothe her when external factors hurt her sensitive heart.

but she just wouldn’t stop crying.

today, she had to have set a new record. whimpering away next to him while rafe tried to get some work done on his computer. she knew better than to interrupt him when he was working, but crybaby just needed some attention. some love.

what if he was all quiet ‘cause he realized how annoying she was? what if—

“okay, what’s a-matter?”

her watery eyes flickered up to his deep blue and thundering ones.

rafe stared at her impatienty — fingers poised as if about to start typing. but his eyes held a question in them. an intensity that makes crybaby shrink into herself, eyes shifting and babbling for an answer while her shaky hands played with the buttons on her shirt.

“wha���? oh, um, s’nothing…”

not a good liar, but even worse at holding eye contact. rafe huffed and closed the laptop abruptly. he spread his legs further, setting the device somewhere beside him. she could be so difficult sometimes.

“kid, you’re over there, sniffin’ and shit — what’s the problem?” his voice was gruff and low, but so familiar and comforting in its own way. running a hand over his buzzed head in a way that always sent her heart racing.

“well, uh, i— i jus’— um…” the stuttered words came out clumsily, not a coherent thought in her head as she stared wide eyed at him. tears began to well anew.

“okay, okay— shut up. i don’t wanna know anymore, jus’— c’mere.”

god, she looked dumb with that look on her face. all frozen and tense as he tries to coax her closer. like a deer and a hunter.

rafe tilts his head to the side, a small smirk settling on his lips. he sees the moment she relaxes; eyes still wet and lip still trembling but she’s scooting closer nonetheless.

he scoops crybaby into his lap, strong arms circling her and pulling her into his chest. rafe sighs like it’s hard work — but the concerned furrow of his brow says otherwise.

she’s still sniffing, nuzzling her face further and further into his chest as she straddles him. trying to disappear fully into his warmth and affection. it’s like just being in his arms sends her into a daze. it’s made worse by his hand pulling her chin up, forcing their eyes to meet.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

her rafe. that soft mumble only she’s privy to. his gentleness entirely reserved for her, for her moments of need. yet, she loves when he’s mean to her — in that dirty, knowing way he is. when her heart just feels so heavy and she doesn’t wanna think anymore. she craves that fuzziness only he can make her feel, a warmth pooling in her underwear. she needs it.

her voice is meek and barely audible when she huffs, “i jus’— today was so—”

rafe rolls his eyes, but tugs her closer. pressing firm kisses to her hairline and letting her ramble on about all the hard things she went through. she doesn’t register his wandering hands. it’s only when his fingertips are breaching her lace panties when she finally notices how he’s pushed her skirt up.

“hmf— rafey—”

her slickness makes a groan vibrate through his chest, fingers pressing forward until he’s prodding at that spongey spot just right. crybaby is hiccuping and sniffling again — eyes pitifully squeezed shut from the intrusion.

“shuddap, let daddy do this, yeah? getchu to stop whinin’ for once.”

based off this little thing i wrote!!!

[bookshelf-dust]

no trace of skin left unkissed

art donaldson x fem!reader

gif by @jennacrtega

word count: 2,072

warnings: swearing, flirting, a little suggestiveness/allusions to intimacy/sexy stuff, but otherwise this is pure fluff

synopsis: art wants you to play tennis with him. and when you do, it only cements how whipped for him you really are. only in competition with how whipped he is for you, of course.

a/n: hello!!! i’ve been sitting on this idea for at least a month now, simply because i just couldn’t get my fingers to do the typing and my brain to do the storming! but alas, i have finished it, and i’m super super soooo happy with how it turned out. this is the first thing i’ve written for art, but i think i got a good handle on his mannerisms. i’m all giddy just because i enjoyed writing this so much. i hope you enjoy reading it!! <33

————

“What are you doing? Why are you blushing? Stop blushing. You are not into this.”

Your boyfriend removes his hat from where it sat perched the wrong way round on his head. He shoves it on yours instead, his warm fingers brushing your forehead as he tightens the strap for you. 

His grin is downright sinister. “You’re into it when it’s me. I don’t look nearly as good in a skirt.”

Your hand shoots out, on a mission to slap the shit out of your boyfriend’s arm, but he senses the rift in space and time, catching your wrist before it makes contact with him. Art uses that leverage to pull you forward, his lips crushing against yours. 

“Mm!” you yelp, suddenly way too interested in his mouth to fuss over his choice in distraction technique. 

Art has this way of kissing where it’s like he needs you to consume him, like he needs to press all of his affection for you directly into each slot of his lips over yours. He needs you to know you’re the only person in the world, and when he kisses, he’s determined to lose sight of anything other than you. 

The only downside to this is that each time he pulls away, you’re forced to recalibrate. 

“But seriously, does it fit okay? ‘Cause I looked at the labels for some of your leggings and stuff and then had Tashi help me pick it out,” Art breathes.

You look down, smoothing your hands over the pleats of your skort. “The fact that Tashi supervised makes me feel a lot better.”

Art’s expression shifts, his brows scrunching and his lips taking a downward turn. “What, you don’t trust me?” The lilt in his voice is nothing short of teasing. 

“I trust Tashi’s ability to pick out something practical for the tennis lessons you’ve decided to give me.” 

You shoulder your bag, push your sunglasses up your nose so they settle right into that little sweet spot. You smell like sunscreen and vanilla shampoo, and Art can’t even process the fact that you're giggling your way out the front door. 

That and his eyes are glued to the way your skirt bounces with each of your steps. Tashi picked out a lightweight, baby pink tennis dress for you. It has shorts built in, and the sweetest little ruffled hem. 

“Wait, you think I’m gonna put you in something all flouncy, a-and,” he snaps his fingers, “what’s the word for it?”

“Slutty? Yes, Art. You see something short and scandalous and your eyes bug out of your head.” Your hands shoot out in little bursts like baby fireworks. “See? They’re doing it right now,” you laugh. 

Art pouts. Literally. His plump bottom lip juts out and you have the urge to bite it. “Hey. Don’t be mean to your tennis coach. I’m a gentleman.”

You snort. “Then open the door and lead the way, Mr. Donaldson.”

————

“You know, I think I like watching you play tennis a whole lot more than I enjoy actually being on the court.”

Art catches the ball you’ve just smacked in his direction. Your brows furrow, confused as to why he’s stopping. 

“Hold this for a sec,” Art says, a suspicious lilt to his voice. The tacky grip on his racket is damp from his sweaty palms. You almost want to make a joke about how you're holding the Art Donaldson’s tennis racket. Almost.

But then the man in question pulls off his shirt. It takes a little effort, considering the heat of the day. You watch as he peels it away from his sweat-slickback, revealing the prettiest spattering of freckles across his skin. 

The sunlight reflects off of his pale complexion, making him look almost…ethereal. You’re starting to understand why Icarus flew directly into the sun. 

Art flips his hat so that it’s backwards and tosses his damp shirt on top of your bag perched sweetly in the corner. The smile he gives you is sick. 

He looks down, nodding at his own bare chest. “This help, baby? A little motivation for you?”

Art picks up another ball, bouncing it up and down as he struts your way. He grabs hold of the net separating the two of you and leans into your space. His blonde hair sticks out in little tufts around his ears and forehead. 

You fan yourself with your hand. “Hmm. Maybe. Gives me motivation to kick your pretty ass.”

He laughs, pearly white teeth reflecting the bright afternoon sun. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You press your lips to Art’s in a quick fashion. You can taste the sweat on his upper lip, smell his deodorant when he raises his arm to cup your jaw. “It’s not fair that you get to be pretty and good at tennis.”

Art feels your clammy fingers brush his as you take the ball out of his hand. He backs up, grinning endlessly. 

“Remember what I told you. Put the ball against the racket like that. Feel it out. You gotta figure out which serve feels best for you. What works for me won’t be the same for you.”

It feels so strange to hold the ball in your non-dominant hand, knowing if you even want the ball to reach Art’s side of the court you’ll have to toss it high enough that you can successfully hit it. 

Your hand-eye coordination surely isn’t winning you any awards, but your first toss isn’t horrible. A little low and definitely not a straight shot, but it’s high enough that you manage to both hit it and have it reach Art. 

He doesn’t say anything, not when he recognizes that look in your eye. This is something he wanted to try with you, something you could do together without any of the stress or socializing that usually accompanies tennis. 

Your tongue pokes out from between your lips, the skin much more swollen and plump than usual due to the heat. They look like they do early in the morning, when you’ve coaxed each other awake and he kisses you until you can’t breathe. Full and slick and enticing. 

Art goes decidedly easy on you, but you’re having fun. 

The longer you play, each time a breeze hits the backs of your knees and Art lets out one of those noises you love to tease him about, you start to see why he and Tashi and Patrick love this so much. 

There’s a solid ten minutes where neither of you lose the ball, lose your rhythm. You’re completely focused on making sure that ball hits your racket. It’s almost liberating, being somewhat mediocre at this. 

Art, on the other hand, isn’t focused at all. He’s doing his best to keep up with you, but he can’t get over how good you look right now. 

The pleats of your skirt bounce with each of your steps, each of your little hops when he hits it just too high. There’s a sheen of sweat glistening on your neck and collarbones, making you look like a fucking goddess. 

Not to mention how pretty you look in his hat. In clothes he bought for you. And he can’t help himself each time you bend to pick up the ball or get a sip of water, because he gets to see the slightest bit of skin at the tops of your thighs, the little creases left permanently in your skin where the fat of your ass meets the slope of your leg.

You catch on after a while, seeing his eyes drag over your bare legs, your chest, your neck. You smack the ball particularly hard, a hit Art should’ve taken in stride, but instead, he misses. The ball makes a pinging sound as it hits the chain link fence and bounces down the court. 

You toss your head back and laugh. 

That’s all it takes for Art to drop everything and grab hold of your legs, tossing you over his shoulder. You’ve been poking at his ribs, telling him how you can’t concentrate when he’s looking at you, but he was insane to think he’d be fine to play tennis with you. 

He can’t concentrate worth a shit. Not when you look like that and are looking at him like that and you’re smacking his ass and laughing so hard and fuck—he could marry you right now. 

————

A wet towel slaps against Art’s ass. “You look like a slut in those underwear, Donaldson.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, hands in the dresser drawer. “Are you complaining?” he asks. 

You splay out across the mattress, feeling the cool comforter against the soft of your belly where your shirt has ridden up. 

“Me? Oh no, just complimenting you,” you quip.

Art lets out a small snort, pulling a pair of plain cotton pajama pants up his legs. You watch as his fingers tie a quick knot at the waist. 

His eyes are on you, blue irises unforgiving, but there’s the tiniest lift at the corner of his mouth. It’s not something you’d notice if you hadn’t spent so much time learning his mannerisms. 

“I like your slutty underwear,” you say. 

Art moves toward the edge of the bed, lowering himself onto his knees so that he’s level with your face. You watch his collarbones shift under his skin as he reaches up to cup your cheeks. 

“I like your slutty underwear too, princess.” He reaches one arm behind you to smack the swell of your ass. Your panties aren’t really slutty. Just dainty. Lace and whatnot. Art’s hand lingers on your bum just long enough for him to give it one good squeeze. 

His chest is directly in your face. You take the chance to lean forward, nipping at the skin over his ribs. His hips are soft beneath your hands, freckles covering almost every inch. 

Art’s brow furrows as he looks down at you. “Hey, hey. Why are we so bitey tonight?” he asks, lowering himself back onto the rug in front of you. He starts peppering your face with kisses. They’re gentle and sweet, yeah. But the way he paces them, the way he makes sure you can feel the drag of his nose, his lashes, against your face makes them sensual. They give you goosebumps. 

When he kisses your lips, you make sure to gently pinch his bottom one between your teeth. “They’re called love bites for a reason, lovey.”

You let your arms stretch out in front of you, your chest hitting the mattress. Your hands smooth over Art’s shoulders and up to his neck. You pretend not to notice the flush your chosen pet name has given him. Patrick would have his ass if he heard that. 

You raise your gaze to meet his. “And you deserve so many of those sweet bites for giving me such a fun day today.”

Art’s nails scratch over your neck and you stifle a moan. “Yeah? You enjoyed it?”

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek. Art taps his thumb on your jaw, signaling for you to quit before you hurt yourself. 

“Maybe we could do it in one of those air-conditioned places next time? It’s too fucking hot for that.”

He chuckles, slotting his lips over yours once again. His brow furrows, and you can practically feel him pressing his affection into you. When he pulls away, he wipes the dampness from the corner of your mouth. 

“You know we can,” he starts. “It’s always better in the fall, too.”

Your stomach flips with the urgent need for him. He’s too perfect, and he’s too far away from you. He should never be that far.

You put your hands on his sides and add the slightest bit of pressure, as if you’re going to hoist him up. He gets the memo and stands. 

For a moment, the image of him towering over you, looking at you with those doe eyes, makes you forget every thought that was previously in your head. Art’s hands fall to your sides, mimicking your moves from seconds before, and you allow him to maneuver you onto your back so he can settle on top of you. 

“And next time, princess?”

You hum, preoccupied with the weight of him above you. His hand cups your chin, encouraging you to make eye contact with him. 

“Next time, that cute skirt stays on when we get home.”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

rb banner by @steph-speaks

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ౨ৎ

bakugo katsuki x reader. 0.7k wc. prohero bakugo ﾉ nightmare comfort ﾉ fluff ﾉ repost from an old blog

the house was empty—silent—when he opened the door. the smell of dinner cooking or the scent of your favorite candle burning didn’t greet him as it usually did. he couldn’t hear your excited steps hitting the floor as you rushed to envelop him in a hug. the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips was absent. vanilla-flavored chapstick didn’t linger on his lips the way it should have. 

his heart sank as he ventured further into the house. all the pictures you insisted on displaying in the living room were missing. that throw blanket you always left hanging on the back of the couch had disappeared. something was off. every trace of you was gone. where were you?

“katsuki.”

he frantically turned at the sound of your voice. despite hearing you, you were still nowhere to be found. he ran through the house and opened every door, never once being met with the sight of you. with his hands tangled in his hair, he fell to his knees. frustrated tears pricked at his eyes. he couldn’t find you—where the hell were you?

“katsuki, wake up!”

bakugo’s eyes shoot open at your concerned shout. his chest heaves as his vision adjusts to the lack of light in your shared bedroom. you’re hovering above him with a frown on your face, brow furrowed with worry. it isn’t the smile he had been hoping for, but compared to his nightmare, any image of you is a welcome one.

he pulls you into his arms, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo. his breathing starts to even out now that he’s able to hold you, feel your skin against his.

you’re here. you’re really here.

“i can’t breathe,” you wheeze, tapping at his chest with the palm of your hand.

he only slightly loosens his hold on you, but it’s enough for you to catch your breath. beads of sweat decorate his bare torso and forehead, strands of messy blonde hair sticking to the dampened surface. you’d usually complain about him trapping you so close to him in such a state, but he’s clearly shaken up, so you hold your tongue.

“nightmare?” you ask after a moment of silence.

“mhm.” you can feel the rumble of his chest beneath your ear.

“must have been scary.” you’ve never seen him so worked up. seeing him so afraid was enough to make you anxious yourself. it’s rare that you ever have to rouse him awake, but whatever was going on in that head of his was obviously causing him distress—his incoherent mutters and his erratic tossing and turning were evidence of that much. though, he seems to be significantly calmer now that he is conscious. 

“scariest shit i could imagine,” he mumbles into your hair. and he means it. going off to fight bad guys and putting his life on the line every day is nothing compared to living a life without you. he faces most things in life without fear, but he never wants that thought to plague his mind again.

“what, did you get abducted by aliens?” it’s a feeble attempt at humor, but you hope the lame joke can act as a distraction to take his mind off the matter.

“no.” he pinches your arm. after a deep breath, he tells you, “i don’t want to talk about it.”

“okay,” you agree. there’s no malice behind the statement but it’s firm and leaves little room for argument. his nightmare must have been worse than you thought. you can’t think of much to do to help set him at ease if he isn’t open to talking about it. but you can’t blame him for not wanting to relive whatever happened in his bad dream.

“do you need anything? maybe some water?” you offer.

“i’m fine,” he says through a yawn, closing his eyes. “just lay here with me.”

“i can do that.” you nod as best as you can in your position. since the man is so reluctant to let you help in any other way, you tell yourself you’ll stay awake until he falls asleep. at the very least, it would help your peace of mind.

slowly but surely, his breath steadies to a regular pace and soft snores sound in the otherwise quiet room. he falls asleep peacefully knowing that you’re still beside him.

thanks for reading! considering reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed :3

[urdepressedslut]

You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part seven❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky finds you making a mess in the kitchen, attempting to bake and offers his help. The two of you get to talking and some reveals about each other begin to come out. Will he finally tell you about your stalker?

♡ Warnings: language, light angst, super fluffy, talk of parent death, mentions of guns, these two are so adorable im literally melting

Part 8

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

“I appreciate you passing on the message Captain, you know I’d do it personally but— I’m a busy man.” Pierce told Steve with a smirk at the end.

Steve nodded in welcome, but otherwise found it strange Pierce didn’t find the whole stalker situation concerning.

Pierce had called Steve in to make sure he had informed Bucky of the whole box— stalker thing. Pierce choosing not to do it himself, had Steve playing messenger.

“I understand sir.” Steve said lastly, turning to exit the room, knowing he shouldn’t take up too much of Pierce’s time.

“Oh and one more thing Captain,” Pierce rushed out, halting Steve in his tracks, “I need you to do something for me.”

~

“Okay a tablespoon of… wait no…” You mumbled to yourself, hands hovering over the mess that was baking supplies on the island of the kitchen.

You grabbed what you thought was an empty cup and pulled it towards your body— but you were unaware of the flour that was already filled inside.

The white powder went flying all over your front, covering your face and down your shirt— dusting onto your pants.

“Ah shit.” You mumbled under your breath.

Bucky seemed to enter at a perfect time, catching you attempting to cough away the flour on your lips— and catching you swearing which surprised him. He bit his lip, trying to keep his laugh from bubbling out.

You heard his light chuckle and glanced up, slightly embarrassed that he caught you in such a state. You were attempting to wipe away the flour from your lashes before speaking up— happy the white powder was covering your red cheeks.

“Hi James— kinda a bad time.” You chuckled, your vision still blurred with flour.

“I can see that. You need help?” He offered.

Truthfully, he’d wanted to help from the beginning but didn’t want to intrude on your time. He had to remind himself that he was strictly your bodyguard— and that didn’t mean he had to do everything you’re doing.

You smirked at his offer to help, knowing it would be a lot more fun to bake with someone. Especially if that someone was him.

“Of course, that’d be great! Thanks James!” You almost squeaked in excitement.

He wastes no time and hurried around the counter, scooting right next to you— hovering his hands over the messy island.

“It’s no problem doll— now where do we start?” He let his eyes dart to your face for a moment, knowing the nickname flustered you.

He couldn’t control the power he felt when he watched you get all ancy— loving the way your face dusted pink almost immediately.

Clearing your throat, you pointed to a recipe card hidden in the piles of flour everywhere.

“There— read me how many eggs we need.” You asked him, still attempting to wipe the white powder off your face.

He grabbed the card, shaking off the flour and squinting his eyes to read the pretty cursive writing.

Ingredients:

1 cup Unsalted Butter (softened) 1 ½ cups Sugar 2 large Eggs 2 teaspoons Vanilla 2 ¾ cup Flour 1 ½ teaspoon Cream of Tartar ½ teaspoon Baking Soda 1 teaspoon Salt

He smiled at the writing, seeing the smudges of cinnamon on the card. The warm, peppery scent filling his senses. It was clearly hand written, and he wondered if it was yours.

"It says you need two large eggs." He told you.

You coughed another cloud of flour out, causing Bucky to chuckle. He set down the recipe card, walking closer to you.

"Hold still." He told you.

Without giving it much thought, he practically pushed the front of his body to yours, his eyes focusing on your flour covered face. He grabbed a cloth and started gently wiping off the flour. He was so engrossed in his task of clearing the flour, he didn't notice your now exposed flushed cheeks.

You could feel his breath fanning your face, his breath minty from the gum he had been chewing. You felt the butterflies fluttering around violently in your stomach, the nerves filling your veins.

He wiped most of the flour off by now, his eyes narrowed in focus. He held the cloth in his metal hand, and before he could stop himself, he raised his flesh hand— rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip.

The rough pad of his thumb wiped off the layer of white dust, revealing your plump bottom lip.

The act seemed innocent, but his gesture felt so intimate. The way your lip could feel his warmth through his thumb, the faintest thump of his pulse— beating into your lip. He gently pinched your bottom lip in between his pointer finger and thumb, trapping his own bottom lip in between his teeth when he heard you gasp.

Your heart was beating violently in your chest as he stared at your mouth— the way he was lost in thought for moment.

He seemed to snap out of his trance, and cleared his throat— backing away. It was only then he realized just how close he was to you.

"Sorry uh... there— I think I got it all." He said lowly.

You swallowed nervously, your cheeks a vibrant red by now. You felt like you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your lips.

"Uh yeah... two large eggs." He repeated, trying to get back on track ignore the little moment that had just happened.

You had to stop your hand from raising to smooth over your lip, wanting to ease the pleasant buzz he had left. You shook your head, attempting to clear your mind. But the butterflies kept tickling your stomach— they wouldn't slow their attack.

"O-okay good, I've got them in the fridge. Uh... how much butter again? I usually remember but it's been awhile." You laughed, happy that you didn't have any flour blurring your vision.

He skimmed the recipe card again, his tongue poking slightly out in focus. You glanced up and found the little quirk cute. He had found the butter part but decided to ask the question that was burning at the front of his mind.

"Is this your hand writing?" He asked finally.

You smiled at him, lowering your gaze to the mixing bowl in front of you. You mixed the flour around carelessly as your mind filled with sweet memories.

"No, it's my Mothers." You told him. "She has... had such beautiful hand writing."

Bucky winced slightly at your correction, and suddenly he felt bad for brining it up. He didn't want to bring the mood down— which is what he felt like he was always doing.

"Sorry I... I didn't mean to—"

You glanced up to meet his apologetic eyes and quickly reassured him.

"No, no— it's fine really... I love talking about her."

He relaxed instantly, relieved he didn't make you upset. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He nodded and let himself ask the questions that started bubbling up in his brain.

"What was she like?" He tested the waters, and by the way your smile only grew— clearly lost in thought thinking about her. He knew he was safe.

Meanwhile, you were trying to find the best way to describe her. No words could ever do her justice. She was the most incredible woman you will ever meet. She was everything you wanted to be.

"God she was... she was wonderful." You wanting to kick yourself for using such a simple word to describe the goddess that your Mother was. "She had the biggest heart... one that tended to get her in trouble."

You giggled, a certain memory popping into your head.

"Her and I were walking downtown one day and she saw a homeless man asking for money— so she gave him fifty dollars." You told the story.

"That's nice of her." Bucky thought out loud.

"Yes... But later that day we ended up getting robbed. A man held us both up at gun point— asking her for her wallet. Seems pretty typical, we didn't think too much of it. We were both shaken up— but otherwise okay." You trailed off, shivering as you remember that day so clearly.

Bucky widened his eyes, the situation sounding scary.

"Jesus..." He breathed out.

"The cops ended up catching the guy a couple days later. Through the process of questioning the man, they found out the man had watched my Mother give money to the homeless man earlier that day— and he was able to see just how much cash was in my Mother's wallet." You revealed and giggled at the next part of the story.

Bucky furrowed his brows, confused why this story was funny. But once again the sweet sound of your laugh had his mouth curving into a smile.

"What's so funny?" He wondered.

"The robbing part isn't what's making me laugh," You stated, "When my Mother got her wallet back— there was still a decent amount of cash inside. That's when I realized how bulky my Mother's wallet was— it looked like her wallet was about to give birth. I pointed it out to her and she started laughing so hard she was crying. God— I had never seen her laugh so hard."

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, but your Mother's laughter rung through your head. The tune playing like a melody— you felt warm inside just from the memory.

Bucky watched your eyes lose its light just slightly, the way your smile started to vanish by the end of your story. You sported a faraway look and he couldn't help but feel bad.

"I really miss her." You whispered, the small sound breaking his heart. "Sometimes I try to call her... and I completely forget that she isn't here anymore."

Bucky listened with heavy heart, this was sparking up memories of his own. He swallowed, feeling his emotions trying to claw their way up.

"I'd give anything to have just a little bit more time with her. I wanna actually be able to say goodbye." You confessed. "We didn't end on bad terms by any means but— I just had no idea that was going to be the last time I saw her."

You glanced up briefly, meeting his sorrowful stare. You expected to hate his pitied gaze, but you found it felt different. Your Father didn’t care— but Bucky did. There was a difference.

“She passed from a car crash.” You told him, remembering the way your Father broke the news to you. It was a horrific day.

Bucky furrowed his brows, but did his best to keep a poker face. With everything he knew— he wasn’t sure if your Mother had actually died from a car crash. There seemed to be some darker twist to this story, and again he felt bad for keeping it from you. He needed to tell you.

You didn't have time to prepare or even accept your Mother's passing. Ever since that dreadful day, time either moved in slow motion— or it sped by. Not giving you anytime to take breath. You were waiting for the day that the pain lessened. Would it ever? It didn't seem like something you were mean't to get over. You were bound to make room for the pain— knowing deep down it would never go away.

"She sounds amazing... I'm sorry you had to lose her." Bucky spoke genuinely, reaching over the counter to grab your hand.

You snapped out of your dark thoughts from his touch, and you wondered— was he always this touchy? Not that you minded it. His touch was welcomed and appreciated, his presence comforting. For once you felt good talking about her, to have someone listen. It was such a different change of pace— from how things were with your Father.

"You know I'm strong believer on everything happens for a reason, but I've yet to find the reason for her being gone."

Bucky didn’t know how to respond, knowing whatever he came up with wouldn’t be much comfort— so he squeezed your hand instead. Letting you know he was still here— listening.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to get all sappy… it’s just nice to have someone to talk to. Especially about my Mother and all that.” You trailed off. “If I’m ever rambling about god knows what— just tell me to stop and I will. I know I can get annoying, but I don’t mean to be.”

Bucky’s heart broke. Angry at whoever made you feel that way, that you needed to be silenced. He had a good idea on who— but kept the thought to himself. Knowing that Pierce seemed to be a sensitive topic— well depending on the day.

“You don’t have to apologize for talking.” He simply said, his eyes occasionally darting down to your still attached hands.

He was just trying to give you some comfort… yeah.

You smiled at him, squeezing his hand back and then letting go.

“Well still…” You tried to argue, but couldn’t come up with any reasonable answer.

The room filled with a comfortable silence— the baking plans forgotten. The quiet let you think clearly, and the first thing that came to mind was the earlier events. You weren’t hiding any big secret— but you felt bad that you had spied on him.

“Hey James?” You broke the silence.

He was already looking at you during the moment of quiet and just raised his brows— hoping you didn’t catch him staring.

“Yeah?”

“I need to tell you something… just please don’t get mad— I didn’t mean to. I happened to walk downstairs at the wrong time and—” You started rambling and Bucky came to your rescue.

“(Y/n)— I won’t get mad. Just tell me.” He playfully rolled his eyes, which made you giggle.

“Okay, okay.” You cleared your throat, stomach full of nerves that really weren’t necessary. “I kinda listened in on your conversation with that guy today.”

Bucky didn’t know what you were going to say— but he was definitely not expecting that. His jaw clenched and his eyes squinted, but it wasn’t out of anger. It was embarrassment. He didn’t know why he felt so flustered by the idea that you had heard him— truthfully he didn’t remember all that he said. But he knew he was speaking in defense of you.

You watched his features morph into what you thought was anger and swallowed anxiously.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t get mad.” You said quietly, hoping that you wouldn’t poke the bear into a full angry frenzy.

He immediately snapped out of his thoughts, your small voice bringing him back to the moment.

“Doll— (Y/n)… I’m not mad.” He told you truthfully, his face felt hot with embarrassment.

You looked at him with confusion, his words not matching up with the way he was looking.

“You sure? You got your angry eyes on.” You tried to joke, but asked seriously.

He let out of breath, running a hand through his hair— making it spike up slightly.

“Yeah, I promise I’m not mad.” He assured you.

“But then why did you have angry ey—”

“(Y/n)… I’m not mad! I’m…” He trailed off, “I’m embarrassed.”

You softened your gaze, watching his face flush. You didn’t want him to feel bad— if anything you were happy that he had stuck up for you. You wondered why he would be embarrassed.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed James… I actually think it was super sweet of you to defend me like that. No one ever has.” You told him.

He glanced up finally to you, not surprised to find your gaze warm and comforting. He felt the embarrassment fading away— but not completely.

“Well… I’m still embarrassed.” He mumbled, pretending to focus on the baking ingredients instead of your intense gaze.

“Don’t be. You have done more for me than my…” You trailed off, swallowing through the sudden tightness in your throat, “Than my own Father. I’m extremely grateful and lucky to have you around. Please don’t be embarrassed James, I appreciate having you here with me.”

Your confession left him speechless, and suddenly the room felt hotter. His eyes dilated— like he was in a trance. He could almost feel the chemicals in his brain shifting— and suddenly he was starting to see you in a completely different light.

Oh— he was fucked.

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” He responded finally, his true answer not wanting to make its appearance.

You just smiled back and tried to focus back on baking— though neither of you cared much about the baking anymore. You both found yourselves entrapped in each other. Conversation flowed so smoothly, the way it came so naturally and easy. It was so welcoming.

The room was settling into silence again and this time, it gave Bucky time to drown in his thoughts. He needed to tell you— he was just afraid what the outcome would be. He feared Pierce would send him away— or worse. It was rare you hear one of his men go against his orders and live the next day.

At the end of the day, he wanted to do what’s right. He didn’t have a problem with lying— most of his life had been playing a part. But with you, he felt he couldn’t keep up the lie. The guilt and shame are away at him, knowing you didn’t deserve to have this kept from you. He knew the longer it was kept from you— the harder it would be when the moment finally came.

“(Y/n)… I need to tell you something.” He started, gaining your attention.

You raised your brows, waiting patiently for him to speak. You were slightly concerned, but trusted it wasn’t anything that bad.

Bucky felt extremely nervous— the devil and angel on his shoulders screaming into his ears. It was the right thing to do… but the outcome would be disastrous.

“(Y/n) there is someone—”

The doorbell rung suddenly, making you and Bucky jump in fright. So lost in the moment you had forgotten you weren’t just in a world where it was just you two.

You were slightly disappointed that he didn’t get to finish his thought— but knew he’d tell you eventually. Bucky bit his lip in frustration, the timing of everything just perfect. He motioned for you to go upstairs.

“I’ll get the door, you head upstairs.” He told you, and you nodded your head— ditching all the baking supplies and immediately trudged up the stairs.

Bucky waited until you vanished down the hallway, before he made his way to the door. The silhouette on the other side didn’t look like Steve’s— which is who he thought was at the door. Peeking through the frosty glass, he was shocked to find it was Pierce.

Well fuck.

Opening the door, Pierce stood— many of his men guarding the front entrance behind him.

“Mr. Barnes…” He started and walked closer to him, “We have much to discuss.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what he had come here for, but considering he was physically here and not sending on of his men— it wasn’t good. He knew it could be just business talk, but with the smirk Pierce sported— Bucky felt his throat tighten with nerves.

🤍taglist for this series is officially closed 🤍

TAGLIST: @winters1917 @unaxv @sebastianstansqueen @casa-boiardi @sonatabee @nytzirhk @almosttoopizza @erinallene @daddy-dotcom @h0nestly-though @beautiful-loserr @gloriouspurpose01 @lesleurs @justherefortheficandsmut @floralwsloki @dottirose @madi-be-buggin @navs-bhat @happinessinthebeing @ximi1315 @buggy14 @dancer3205 @neeezza101 @rovckwells @loki-is-loved @yujyujj @wolfstarrrr @distinguishedbluebirdtriumph @tatianah26 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @lethallyprotected @sadboiabby @ziatracy @doveromanoff @whattheduckisupkyle @buckysgirl85 @etherealdisneyvillainness @doctorlilo @torntaltos @raging-panda @livingoffsavvyillusions @lmao-liz @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @toriluvsfics

@baconeggndcheez @nialiuwanderlust @nabiiturner @nickangel13 @queerqueenlynn @memyselfandi19 @mentalidrainedfangirl @wattpaduser200 @obsessedbutnotblessed @iris-shihabi @thecubanator2 @chloe-skywalker @oatballsoffury @bbiaa420 @vanillascreams @athenabarnes @the-universe-is-complicated @marvel-fandom23 @ilovecliches @frankcastlesbabe @aizawa-emma @shamelesssuitshark @buckyb-stan @pampeop @bruher @reading-n-writin @lenavonschweetz @khypods @himikotoga101 @stefansring @iateall-yourcookies @giftedyoungster3000 @itsmytimetoodream @im-a-marvel-ous-hoe @wintermischief @companionjones @meetmeatyourworst @sebstanwhore @xforeveralonerxx @marziwritesfic @hidden-treasures21 @avenirectioner

@hvnnibvni @chipilerendi @buckylovu @clean-and-claire @broadwaybabe18 @billy-reads @natashassandwich @potatothots @char112244 @totallynotnotsukie @theconstantsidekick @unkownkii @missaprilt23 @dreamcatchernightsky @globetrotter28 @ilovewriting06 @leabunny @samsgirl93

[itoshi-s]

@marycorn requested: rin + bathing with him // no lukewarm love v-day event !

wc: 1.7k. cw: fem reader (referred to as woman like, once), fluff, rin isn't all that used to love :,3

"you're feeling more like oat milk and vanilla, or.." you pause, twisting the jar so you can read the label properly, "oh, you like this one- lavender and lemon?"

you hold up the candles, lifting them respectively as you speak, only to find rin - the very one your question is directed at - still staring at his phone intently as he rubs the back of his neck. the little frown etched between his brows and tense stance of his broad shoulders make him seem entirely too stressed for your liking.

"rin?" you ask again, putting one of the jars down on the counter. "you okay?"

it's only the lighter flicking that makes him snap out of his stupor. he glances over, teal eyes a bit confused until they settle on the candle you lit up - his favorite.

(it's hard to call it a favorite when it's actually the only scent he enjoys among all your other gourmand and flowery ones.)

"hm? yeah, sorry." rin sighs and locks his phone, setting it down before reaching to pull his hoodie off. "just some press shit before the season starts. had to catch up." he explains, voice muffled by the thick cotton over his mouth before he fully peels the garment off.

"'s alright." you hum softly, hand dipping into the bath water to check temperature. "i just don't like seeing you all pent up like that."

now, rin doesn't like how it feels, either. perhaps that's why he values his routine so much - the daily schedule he's been following ever since he realized how serious he is about football. morning stretch, breakfast, practice, lunch, gym, going home, dinner, evening yoga, then some meditation to finish the day. sounds like a lot — and it definitely is — but surprisingly so, it doesn’t feel as tiring as it might seem.

rin’s never really thought this tight schedule of his lacked anything, either — at least not until you crawled your way right into his heart, albeit a little too cold but oh, so aching for love still, and made yourself home in the long abandoned space. it's only natural you came with a whole package - all your silly candles, drawers full of various bath bombs and salts, and far too many masks to count, which you always looked so ecstatic to put on his face.

you came with your own little routine - one that fit so perfectly into his, it's almost as if it was fate's doing.

perhaps, this is exactly what he needed at the end of his day - your skin on his, head tilted back to rest on his shoulder as you listen to him speak, so intently and calmly as always. maybe, the feel of your fingers in his hair, tenderly pushing the bangs out of his face as you grin upon the sight - here's my handsome boy - is the little piece he longed for everyday.

(love, he thinks is the right word for it. he needed your love - but despite getting better at voicing out his feelings over the years, it's still far too sappy to admit to out loud.)

snapping out of thought, rin shakes his head. “yeah, me neither.” the man mumbles under his breath, and you need to look over your shoulder to make sure he’s just teasing — voice far too tired to make out the tone. “if they end up calling again, it's better cause someone's dead or some shit. not picking up otherwise.”

you laugh, and rin’s mouth curls into a rare smile.

“wow," you mumble, "that’s not very captain of you." you tease, to which he snorts.

"not very teammate of them to be such idiots either." you'd suppose there would be more of a bite to his tone as he retorts, but it's surprisingly gentle as he allows his gaze to rest on your silhouette, taking in the image of you slipping the silk robes off your shoulders and exposing the soft skin underneath. he sniffs shortly, "whatever. let's not talk about 'em anymore."

you only give a slight chuckle in reply as you slip into the bathtub, followed by a content sigh. the bubbles have grown thick and luscious, nearly covering most of your body once you’re fully submerged in the glittery lilac water, and rin’s cheeks grow warm in time with your own. yours, because the water is indeed just a bit too hot even for your liking; his, because you look so fucking sweet, a sight for his sore eyes.

pulling your knees chose to your chest, you squirm forward to make space behind you. "c'mon, it's gonna run cold-"

"shut up, woman," rin mutters under his breath as he steps in behind your back, lowering himself and pulling you flush against his chest once he's fully seated. the water sloshes over the edges at his sudden motion and you gasp - both at the mess and his jab.

"hey!" you try to turn in his grasp, but the way it tightens keeps you locked in place. rin laughs by your ear as you lean your head back with a pout. "it's the first time in, like, forever that we have time for this, and that's the treatment i get?"

rin gives your frame a squeeze again, paired with a chaste kiss pressed to the crook of your neck. you lean your head to the side, allowing more space, and it's almost muscle memory by this point - merely an instinct and unconscious thought that makes rin's heart jolt.

it has been a while, indeed, rin figures. you've been both way too busy with work to make way for the small things, pieces of your daily routines that in the end made the day feel this much better. now, he's not exactly sure how did all of... this become a regular routine for you two, but it has quickly turned out to be the very thing both his mind and body long for whenever it's time for a break.

maybe the lack of time was the cause of his annoyance spiking these past few days, eyes rolling upon the most minor inconveniences. he's never been the calmest type around the team, but it was truly best to keep your mouth around him lately. (if there has to be one person to ask about it, it's ryusei. as always.)

as rin inhales your scent, mixing with the faint citrus of the bubblebath and calming lavender the candle diffuses, he realizes that he's missed you.

long eyelashes flutter against your shoulder as he closes his eyes, hands starting to roam down your waist and grope their way to your hips where they finally settle.

"i missed you." rin admits, albeit to his own surprise - and it seems like yours, too, if the way your fingers flex on his knee is anything to go by. he noses at your neck and feels his shoulders finally loosen up. "missed this, i mean."

you shift in your seat slightly, back pressing against the firm planes of his chest even further, until you can nearly feel the steady thumping of his heart.

"me too." you say softly, one hand slipping to rest on his bicep instead while the other guides his other arm to wrap around your chest again. you squeeze it tight and turn your head to get a better look of rin's face. "it's not as fun without you anymore, yanno?"

rin must sense your gaze on him, cause as soon as you're done speaking, his head lifts from it's spot on your shoulder and turquoise eyes lock with yours. a small smile breaks across your face as you reach a hand up, pushing back the bangs that already start to stick to his forehead.

"you're telling me i'm fun?" the ravenette mumbles, corners of his lips pulling upwards when you go to mess with his hair.

your chest squeezes with adoration upon the sight - handsome, refined features on show, paired with the dearest look anyone could ever grace you with. sheepishly, you nuzzle your face against rin's neck and nod. "well- sometimes." you murmur and feel his throat vibrate with a laugh.

"took you long enough t' admit." rin snickers, straightening his legs a tad more as he leans back, until the water reaches shy past your collarbones. "you wanna tell me something else while we're at it, baby?" he taunts, head tipping down just slightly to steal a look at your face, still snugly fit in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

"mmhm, i just might." you hum, "i love you, dummy," you sigh, holding back an amused smile as you push yourself up. sitting up straight, you look back over your shoulder just in time to spot the very sight you've longed after for the past few days - teal eyes just barely hooded yet sparkling with so much affection, and a content smile to pair with.

you watch silently as rin rolls his shoulders back, arms moving to rest over the edge of the tub. it's been a little while since you've last seen his body this relaxed, lean muscles all loosened up and frame seemingly even more broad now as he rests.

"i love you, too," the man replies, feeling his smile widen upon noticing your lips curl up in a grin of your own as well. perhaps it's just these silly essential oils you've loaded the bath water with, or maybe it's the temperature and steam in general, cause there's a giddy feeling gnawing away at his chest and a loop pulling at his heart that makes it just a tad harder to breathe properly.

(it's the same sensation that only ever creeps up on him when he looks at you. love, rin thinks. he can voice it out all he wants, bare his heart for you countless times - but he's never getting used to how dizzy it makes him, searing hot in his veins and cotton-like in his head.)

a sense of serenity swirls around the room and mixes with the delicate lavender as silence falls over the both of you, other than the gentle fizz of bubbles and flicker of the candle. you hold rin's gaze as he breathes, chest in a steady rise and fall until he opens his mouth to speak - and you're surprised he's only ever asking for it now.

"wash my hair, please?" rin speaks - quietly and meekly so, as if you ever denied him the thing - and you roll your eyes, hand already reaching towards the stand to fetch the shampoo bottle as you smile, feeling so lovesick your chest hollows.

"thought you'd never ask."

[drdemonprince]

I appreciate all the talk about setting a hard limit around no vanilla sex and having it actually be productive in getting what you want because I'm *also* a kinky ace, but I've only dabbled like twice *ever* because while I'm not entirely sure what all I'd like to explore re:kink I have alwaysalwaysALWAYS known I would not ever period have sex, so I just. Haven't participated otherwise. But seeing y'all talk about oh hey yeah you can totes just skip the sex/sexual attraction part and go right for the fucked up shit has me !!!! 'cause, like, huh, yeah I would probably really enjoy sticking someone in my closet and utterly ignoring them, or setting someone up as a useful art supplies rack for a long project, especially if I knew neither of us were going to be idk sex participants at any point I really can't even conceptualize of myself in a sexual way at all. Kind of drifted from the point here which is: WOW it CAN be done maybe I'll stick my toes in the pool again! Thank you!

Yes Anon!!! Yes it can!! People do stuff like that every day! I did yesterday in fact. I was left tied and handcuffed to a chair in a guy's apartment, a blindfold on my eyes and a huge mouthguard-type gag in my mouth, while he went to buy tacos. In my case we did throw a vibrator into the mix, but that was mainly to torture me with discomfort (the highest setting hurts like a mfer!) and neither one of us had any sexual contact or release, nor any desire for it.

This Dom has SIX OTHER DATES lined up this week -- all he does is tie boys up and watch them struggle. His dance card is full as fuck and he's a total pleasure to hang with. You can be the same. Get on Fetlife, join some groups, make a profile, post some pics or writing, meet people at local kink events, put your specifics on Feeld or Lex or Grindr, and message some ppl!

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Silent Hearts // [Part II]

Pairing | Cowbell x reader

Word count | 3.1k

⚠️ Warnings | ANGST UNHOLY MOLY IT'S STRAIGHT ANGST, canon divergence, f!reader, Cowbell is Cowbell, Sister Imperator is really mean. CW for ghoul abuse, blood, violence, psycho cowbell

Chapter Summary: Felix struggles with processing what happened after meeting you. He makes a meeting with Secondo to find some answers. Escorted by Omega, a big part of his past is revealed.

A/N: Okay so please note Cowbell does go through some shit in this one. There is a scene that may be uncomfortable to read, dealing with violence and abuse. Please don't read if it makes you uncomfortable, there won't be any more after this. Feel free to skip over it or wait for the next part!! Take care of yourselves! xoxo

[Prev][Next]

Felix still couldn’t wrap his head around everything that happened a couple days ago. It was eating at his every thought, like a parasite trying to speak to him in a language he didn’t understand. Meeting you, the way your heart beat in silence, it tirelessly ran laps around his mind. As soon as the sun granted him a new day, he immediately made an appointment to meet with Secondo. A desperate attempt to find some answers. 

He wasn’t allowed into the Abbey anymore for various reasons, but that’s not to say he was never allowed back in. Of course there were exceptions if he was seriously ill or injured. Sister Imperator was a mean woman but she was never cruel. 

Ask him, however? He’d say otherwise.

He was reluctantly granted an audience following the afternoon mass to speak with the former Papa. Secondo was the closest to the dark one and most educated on ghouls, sometimes he knew more about them than they did. Diligently keeping up on the newest teachings, blessings and dark creations. If anyone was going to be able to give Bell some sort of explanation about what was happening, or some guidance, it was him. He also happened to be one of the only people in the Ministry that would still talk to him.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t so much as even feel your heartbeat. Everything about you was causing him so much grief. It was how your scent brushed under his nose as it got caught in the wind. How it was exactly his favourite combination of grapefruit and vanilla. It was easy for him to pass it off as being more than mere coincidence. It wasn’t tickling his brain the way perfume or mist would. The scent that filled his senses was simply just… you.

The way his breath hitched when you stood close to him and effortlessly took him off guard. The way his mind went eerily quiet in your presence. He simply couldn't get enough, and that scared him.

He had been around a number of humans before he was cast out. Everyone wanting a shot at taming his unsettling character and ultimately failing (with the exception of Special, but he was half ghoul anyway). It always ended up the same: he was the resident weirdo. Constantly needing to prove that, despite his mental and physical disabilities, he was not weak or to be discarded. He was just as much of a ghoul as the rest of them despite his differences.

With you it was different. 

There wasn’t a challenge. You didn’t question whether he was worthy, or competent. You didn’t look at him like a caged feral animal, or quake in fear and run. You simply spoke to him as an equal. The two of you absolutely weren’t in any sense equals, but it was this strange feeling that he had never experienced. You were the first person who didn’t make him feel the need to prove he was anything more than what he was.

He was used to his brain not firing right at times, but you were making it do something else entirely. He’d admit on bad days he could be a little out of control. At the beginning, any given lunar event would cause his brain to short-circuit. Some Siblings wondered if he was secretly a werewolf, the way his demeanor drastically changed to be a more feral version of himself.

He would never forget the day it was completely out of control, and prayed you would never find out that side of him existed.

10 Years Ago

He ran through the halls carrying a lifeless Ivy in his arms trying to make it to the infirmary in time. The little Earth ghoul’s blood staining his face as his tears left clean streaks down his cheeks.

Bell had never seen Omega - the normally calm, level-headed Quint - seething in so much anger. It was clearly the last straw. 

It– he had gone too far this time.

“What the fuck happened, Felix?” Omega snarled, immediately taking the small ghoul from his shaky blood soaked arms and placing Ivy on the infirmary bed to assess the damage.

“I..I don’t–” “Don’t hit me with that bullshit! Just look! Look what you’ve done!”

Once Ivy was stable, Omega immediately banished him and snapped the pack bond into pieces, never to be rebuilt. Once those bonds were broken it was irreparable, and they both knew it. Any ghoul from now on would know he wasn’t to be trusted. 

He was sent off with an angry wave. His former packmate’s words were like a freshly seared brand on his soul…

‘You don’t belong here. You don’t belong anywhere.’

It was the first time he felt truly lost.

He ran out of the infirmary in a panic, not sure what else to do. Only to be caught by Alpha and River before even making it around the corner. He was drugged up and dragged to Sister Imperator's office in seconds, all at her request. 

For her “safety”.

Once they pulled his stumbling body into her office, he was dropped. Immediately falling onto his knees as his legs gave out. He pulled his head upwards to meet her stone cold glare from his place on the floor. Only halfway conscious as he looked to her with a pleading gaze, Ivy’s blood still coating his face. 

She gave Alpha and River a curt nod before they left, the door shutting behind them. 

His fate was hanging in the balance. This was the moment he knew everything was about to change, and the look on her face told him all he needed to know: his sentence had been decided long before he even made it through the door.

“I’m sorry, Sister! I wasn’t in control, I didn’t– I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He pleaded, watery eyes desperately attempting to chip away at the solid steel behind hers.

“Rules are rules.” She stated. “They’re black and white, not grey. And they’re certainly not open for interpretation.”

“I know! I know.” He whispered, wiping at the tears rolling down his face. Ivy’s blood smeared over his shaking hands as he stared in horror. “I need h-help.”

She tutted as she stalked around him like a lioness circling her prey. “There’s nothing we can offer you now besides a choice.” Her voice was calm yet laced with poison, each word left its mark. “Disowned and disgraced, there’s no place left for you here. You must know that?”

His weakened state allowed her to push him further to the ground with ease. She scoffed at the sight of his claws pointlessly pawing at the hardwood floor. 

“You were once a great soldier, Felix. Look at you now. Pathetic.”

His sobs rattled down to his core as he let her do whatever she needed to. Desperately trying to breathe as his brain fought the urge to rip out her throat, but ultimately being forced to obey. The loyalty they all swore when they were summoned wrapped around his mind like an invisible chain.

He was happy his pack couldn’t see him now. At least there wasn’t an audience forced to hear his tortured screams. The harrowing sounds bounced off the walls as he cried out. His pleas falling on deaf ears and going unanswered. 

He laid beaten and bruised on the floor when she finally decided he learnt his lesson. The blood this time was his as it pooled beneath him.

“I think that’s enough for today.” She panted, returning to lean against the edge of her desk. She looked down at him like a wounded animal not worth saving. “What’s your choice?”

His body shook as he inhaled. Soft pained whines too high pitched for the human ear escaped with every breath he took. 

“Exile.”

“Very well. You know the conditions of your release. You are no longer allowed in this establishment unless you are as close to death's door as you are now. Even then, you will not enter without strict permission from one of the senior most Clergy, to which you will be escorted at all times. Break these rules, and next time you won't be given the privilege of choice.”

If you’ve never backed a trained killer into a corner, you haven’t known true fear. She had never seen anything like this, no one had.

Clouded silver eyes shot open and immediately locked onto her from his place on the floor, his pupils were thin slits behind the haze which swirled like a tornado. His bones violently snapping back into place as he moved to stand. Numerous fangs extended and snapped as a deep snarl reverberated off the walls. The commotion caused Alpha and River to run in, moving to guard the Sister. Both mentally fighting between their loyalty to her, and the biological pull to turn against her at the sight of their kin’s unbridled rage.

His body creaked and groaned as he rolled his head back. His forked tongue tasting the mixture of blood coating his lips before he looked back at her with a new sinister grin.

“Tsk tsk,” his head tilted in amusement. “It’s cute how you think you’re in charge my dear. I’m not built like that, I'm afraid.” His chuckle crackled deep in his chest like thunder as he stalked closer. The two other ghouls attempting to take him down but only getting one step towards him before falling unconscious to the floor with a simple flick of his wrist.

 “Fun part about being part Air, is that your brain needs oxygen to function. Otherwise,” he now stood mere inches away. Her body betraying her look of confidence, shaking in fear at the sight of him towering over her, fangs bared. “Nighty, night.”

“There is something s-seriously wrong with you,” she managed to stutter out.

“Yes, yes there is. I tried to ignore it, suppress it. Pretend like I was like everyone else.” His long clawed finger dragged over the skin of her cheek, wiping at her tears before whispering into her ear.

 “Thank you… for setting me free.”

That was the last time he stepped foot in the Abbey. 

A lot of time had passed since then. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit nervous. Felix laughed when he got the letter informing him that Omega would be meeting him by the back gate to escort him inside; using probably the only ghoul powerful enough to take him down was a smart move on their part, to which he couldn’t help but applaud. 

As twisted as it sounds, he genuinely appreciated their fear. The fact that they were so afraid he would murder the very man who summoned him, they felt the need to send their strongest ghoul to babysit what he had planned to be a very civil chat.

As night fell, he got ready to appear before the Clergy. He made sure to hunt a few hours before so he was satisfied, leaving himself plenty of time to wash up. He dug through his things trying to find what he needed, his fingers brushing over a black duffle bag sat in the darkest corner of his makeshift den. His muscles tensed as he realized what it was, his expression turning sour as he moved to grab the fabric inside in his blackened claws.

“Hello again, old friend.”

The walk up the path to the back gate was unremarkable. His senses were on high alert, not knowing how this was going to go. He was prepared for anything. His pointed ears twitched, each crunch of gravel under his shoes becoming almost too bothersome; he thought about moving to tread over the grass to ease his ringing ears but Omega’s scent hit his nose.

“Always early, Omega.” He smirked, just about reaching the iron gate.

“No. I just know your games, Felix. The meeting isn’t for another half hour.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he shrugged. 

 He could feel Omega’s burning gaze studying his every move. “I see you kept your uniform.”

It was one of the conditions if he ever had to return to the Abbey: First, to be escorted at all times. Second, return only if death was imminent. Third, to be masked and dressed in full uniform. The Sister probably thought he would burn it the moment he left, ensuring he was never allowed back inside. 

But he kept it. Ignored it, no longer necessary being in the woods, yet it sat. Silently waiting for the day he took back his place within the Ministry.

When he put it back on, it almost caused him physical pain. All the disgusted looks and harsh words came back, feeling like they were stabbing him over and over. All he wanted to do was rip it off and tear it apart. However, this meeting was important. The thought of you was the only thing keeping him from destroying it the moment the material passed through his claws. The familiarity of everything bringing back memories almost as fresh as the day he lived them.

Suddenly his hands felt magnetic as they slammed together, an invisible force binding them to rest at his waist. Intrigued more than scared, he playfully attempted to pull them apart.

“Learnt some new tricks, Omega? Very nice,” Felix admitted with an approving nod, crossing through the gate. “So you can teach old dogs new tricks.”

That earned him a slap upside the head, to which Felix could only chuckle and crack his neck completely unbothered. Omega let out a low growl as he walked behind him. “You’re insufferable. Should have sent you back when she had the chance.”

It was Felix’s turn to growl, turning to snap his fangs at his former packmate. “Do it then. You can’t. You’d never get the permission, and even if you could you lack conviction. Pack leader, my ass.”

Omega’s claws extended and gripped painfully at his thighs. Taking deep breaths as he glared at the multi. “Why did you do it?”

Felix’s expression turned surprised, but still wanting to make sure he wasn’t falling for any of Omega’s tricks. “Do what?”

“Why did you do it? Imperator? Why did you let it get this far?” Omega’s voice echoed before he sighed somberly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Felix stopped in his tracks just feet away from the doors leading to the Abbey’s west corridor. “Tell you what, huh? Tell you that she used our oath as an excuse to beat the shit out of me because she knew I couldn’t fight back? Tell you that I never wanted to be a burden so I ran out into the woods every time it demanded to be free so I wouldn’t hurt my own pack?” 

His voice hitched as all the feelings he suppressed flew to the surface.

“I tried to be good. I tried, but whatever was inside me was never satisfied. Always wanting more. More chaos, more blood. It was hungry and I was just in the way. It’s okay though. The old me is dead now. Poof, gone. It killed whatever was left of me and took over. And boy does it feel so much better. I should really thank the dear Sister. She created a monster.”

Omega’s ears fell as he listened. The ghoul he once thought of like a brother was gone, there was no doubt about that. This Felix was battle ready and dangerous. It wasn’t just his attitude, it was everything. The way his muscles started to strain against the old uniform, refined from years of hunting and surviving like a feral dog. The way he walked with such confidence yet always ready to fight. The way Omega noticed his ears flicking at even the slightest sound, working to protect him from harm because his eyes couldn’t.

“I could have helped you, we could have figured it out. We still can.”

Felix scoffed. “No, Omega. We can’t. You made damn sure of that when you disowned me and kicked me out. You knew that my soul would be marked for the rest of eternity yet you did it anyway.”

He knew that. He wasn’t born yesterday. While Felix had a lot of time to process what happened that day, so did Omega. He would never admit that the eerie silence that crept into the halls afterwards bothered him, badly. Bell’s fading scent slowly disappearing from the pack quarters, the lack of off-hand comments making him spit out his coffee, had all left its mark.

Felix was never a pack leader so he wouldn’t have known, but while his soul was wounded, so was Omega’s. It was like Felix’s piece of the puzzle was missing and none of the newer ghouls fit quite right.

Omega opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. There wasn’t anything to say, the damage had been done long ago.

“Let’s just get this over with so I can take this shit off.”

They walked in tense silence to Secondo’s office. Omega knocked gently on the door before hearing their former Papa granting entrance.

Secondo sat behind his desk, still in his papal robes from the sermon he just gave as he looked suspiciously at the ghouls entering his office. Giving Omega a kind nod as the ghoul moved to stand guard at the side, leaving Felix to stand in-front of him.

Secondo’s eyes squinted as he looked over the ghoul, not able to see much with the uniform and mask obscuring his face.

“What happened? Cat got your tail?”

Felix’s head tilted in confusion. “No?”

The older man hummed. “Thought a wild bear might’ve bit it off or something. I can’t imagine why else you’d be standing in my office. When I got your summons, I was quite surprised.”

“I was hoping you’d be able to help me with something.”

“Spit it out, I don’t have all day.”

“I met this girl, a human girl.” Felix started. “I think she’s one of the Sisters. Anyway–”

He explained everything that happened. Everything he felt, what was going through his head. The odd way you made him feel. Secondo and Omega listened intently, grateful they gave him the moment to freely speak. As he went on, he realized how ridiculous it all sounded.

“Nevermind, forget it. It’s probably stupid.”

“It’s not.” Secondo spoke. “There are many things in this life that we cannot understand. There are so many unexplainable reasons for why this and not that. I think Omega and I can explain…”

[Next]

[dairy-farmer]

One of your earliest asks was about an erotes-variation where Bruce intentionally spiked them with the sex pollen because he realized everyone’s secret feelings for Tim were causing strife in the family, and he wanted to prevent any of them from going evil, etc.

Im just in love with this idea.

The batfam are all secretly madly in love and lust with Tim, and their various guilt complexes and frustrations over this are the reason they all kind of treat him like varying shades of shit.

But post erotes, when they all realize they are into Tim and nobody has any higher ground to stand on with regards to fucked up possessive incestuous tendencies, they quickly decide that Tim is now their shared sub 💕💕

Tim knows he should be concerned or angry that they made that choice without really consulting him, but he’s mostly just all warm and soft inside because everyone’s paying attention to him and being nice and they *want* him. It’s like he’s glowing.

Tim is still Red Robin, at least at first. However, everyone keeps steering him from the most dangerous missions, and during fights, he keeps getting picked up and whirled away because ‘he needed a rescue’. In this way, they sort of herd him out of active field work— after all, they reason, in the nicest way possible, Red Robin is kind of a filler figure anyway. Tim is at his best behind comms. Besides, they’d all get too worried if their baby was out their in danger— they need to know their sweet little sub is waiting safe and sound for them when they get back.

And again, Tim knows he should be upset, but he’s always kind of hated being Robin— it was a necessity, like a grueling job one needed to pay the bills. He only fought for it near the end because it was proof he was part of the family in some way.

But now he’s part of the family no matter whether he’s a superhero or not. They’ve made that very clear. (Bruce, in fact, put three new tiny trackers into Tim, and he was smiling all soft the whole time as he numbed the area and inserted them, like he thought it was very romantic. It kind of was.)

The batfam is so much more functional now that they can express their true feelings regarding Tim, and that they can openly be a little dark/morally dubious with it— this outlet prevents any of them from going off the rails or otherwise morally decaying.

And honestly, Tim *loves* being their adored free-use sub. None of them are ever *mean*, though he was scared of that in the beginning. It takes some time for him to learn to trust easily, to close his eyes and kneel or roll over without question, especially with Jason and Damian, but once he does— it’s so freeing, so safe.

Damian likes to mark out certain blocks in the calendar, usually a few days a month, where Tim can just be his full-time puppy. No comms, no outside work, just his adorable puppy sleeping in his big cage with all his blankies and happily rutting against Damian’s shoes, all eager to please.

Bruce likes being Tim’s daddy. He feels bad that he wasn’t really a father figure for Tim like he was for Jason and Dick, so in his eyes, this is how he makes up for it. He gets to act on all those urges and fantasies he repressed behind a stoic facade. Tim sitting on his lap, watching cartoons, cuddling close to him at night. His little breathy moans as Bruce hovers over him, blocking out anything but his daddy, protecting him from the world, gently working his cock into that tight little hole. Tim all pink as he rides his daddy’s face, thick hands gripping his thighs and forcing him to grind *down*.

to dick, Tim is his permanent adorable little brother. He’s huge into brocon— here, Timmy, I can help you. Let me carry you around, Timmy. I’ll make you feel good, I promise. He’s always showing off to try and impress him.

Honestly cass is a slightly rougher, quieter version of

To Jason, Tim is his adorable little wifey. He’s super domestic— he likes to cook for Tim, to have sweet, sappy vanilla sex, to have sweet, sappy, kinky sex— the list goes on. He loves ‘providing’ for his little wife, gently dominating him— he’s a total simp honestly. He’s the one who most gets off the idea of him having a long, bloody night as the red hood and coming home to his pretty little Tim waiting for him.

They have a nice collar made with all of their names carved on the inside, so that he never forgets who he belongs to 💕

Him just walking down the halls of the manor until Dick comes out of a hallway and just grabs his wrist, leading him along without a word. Turns out him and Bruce and Damian are watching a movie, and they need Tim to sit at their feet and be a pretty warm little thing. It’s not even always sex, a lot of the time Tim is just used like a teddy bear, snatched for snuggles and hair pets and all the like. It’s not uncommon to walk into somebody busy at work on a laptop while absentmindedly petting the hair of Tim, who is snuggled into their side.

🥺🥺🥺🥺 tim getting the love he's craved and needed from his family- each of them caring for him, loving, and fucking him in their own ways. tim being so happy to be this small, adored, little kept thing.

he was not made for hard life, he never wanted it to begin with! but someone had to do it. but now? now he can be sweet and soft and owned!

he can be this adored, kissed, and lovingly handled little thing.

he's wonderfully fucked by his family who loves him so dearly and he's treasured by them as well.

he's so utterly theirs and tim has never been happier!!!!

[captainkurosolaire]

Update / Valentiones

Just wanna throw-down some appreciation and update on some stuff still plan on tackling this year. Although early this still implies for Valentiones. “Love ye all, have a terrific hearty day.  Should you feel cast aside, leave that t’ me to debunk it. Cause I’ll polish and give you a reason to rewrite that by finding you, picking you up, dusting it off. – You’re f*cking valuable, every single passing Sun t’ Moon, not even I can determinate it, no scale could justifiably do it. Don’t let any foul scallywags tell you otherwise. I’ll handle em’ You focus on shining eruptive, dazzle chaotically! I see you and I am thanking you fer existing, otherwise, I’d be out of business as a pirate, what’s the point of being one if I can’t discover my treasures cross these bland planes?” - CKS

Achieved a decent-chunk of chapters already with my goal this year to be like 60, think I'm almost at 20 this early-in. More than I expected. Thanks for all the energy and power, from low to high. Still got probably 800-1000 chapters I need to realistically create, I get why One-Piece how it is. Once you get real passion for your art, there's an overabundance of stories to further write. xD I most certainly will be around chipping at pieces. In my case, I've always continued for the company that's been on this crazy voyage with me, for always welcoming or being there after long-breaks to RP partners who's integrated or pre-established stuff with me to join in. To my Best Friend/Roomie for always shooting inspiring ideas, always been able to easily click from being nerds who made so many D&D and Tabletop sessions we went to make our own whole world-building and tabletop game. Was pretty dope, but now I'm taking all that same, rich-passion and throwing it to world-build here. I got all the people to credit, I started from here on the community with too that matured and nurtured my character who allowed a very vanilla starting character, to morph into something that I could eventually give deep respect to continue. There's ton's of people and fellows who came from Tumblr as well, that were either forced to give up, or brought down by anon's, all those who suddenly disappeared, couldn't because time-commitments, or became distant, I've kept ingrained in me and I stay ever vigilantly passion in their stead. I overflow like a flowing fountain and multiply for all their sake to continue onward, and the lurkers, all the people who came to me saying they got inspired to join this fandom, all that you've made a impact, difference on me, and make no mistake about it, you matter. I carry your spirit, energy all with everything I endeavor. It's meant a life-changing amount to me have a place to just unleash myself. No better way to say it but -- I LIVE for this shit. So even no matter how infested this site becomes, or when the p*rnbots take over and I have to somehow try to convince them to start up a brothel and least take up RP, I'll still wage on. I may and most definitely die alone at the end. But baby I didn't live like that one-bit or felt like that at-all, I've lived millions.--- Update --- I'm determined to be more regular about this stuff yearly, I've collected so It can get done. I literally think I'll be at this point writing for the next two FF MMO's at this point if I don't start now. For now though, got about two-chapters left in me to do hopefully before February ends. Then I'll probably take a mini-break. I'm thinking about having or seeing if people will send a single, -word- to me in my submission box, and create my own prompt's judged upon that way. Overall, I never-mind getting anything asked or submitted anytime either while, I'm throwing it out. But this way lets people get involved, and I can use my over abundance of characters and try to create-weave a story within the mood or perimeter I need to tell, but I don't have to follow my story-path. Words submitted can be just about anything. Either I can mention you when I do a post with your submission, or you can go on anon for it. Even if no one's down for that stuff, It's all chill. Cause I'm dedicated and determined to do this stuff regardless, whenever I'm around. xD I eventually will take the XIVWrite again too, but I want to do that after a lot of progression or absolutely, my last-rodeo, or its. I've got to establish a lot of Captain's Crewmates, NPCS, I'm even doing slow-burn and building up other antagonists, I got relics, cultures, isle world building, continue thinking of just a mountain of arcs. I really want to get to my sport-arc. After these next two-chapters or so, I'm going to start timeline jumping all over the place. When I'm energized. Anyways that's it, also If need a Valentione's I got ye my hearty, I take no issue in being a rebound. 😎💛

[pint-o-beans]

for the asks thing: 1, 2, 3

1. what song makes you feel better?

Okay so I feel like answering this involves a discussion of tactics, cause I'm not someone who can like go for a happy song and feel better, it's just gonna clash with the mokd. so, if I'm in a light funk, I usually just choose some like uptempo electronica, "Close To You"  by Sabrepulse is a common go-to. if I'm feeling pretty gnarly and I have to push through, I generally go for something that's kind of manic and meeting me where I'm at, like "Fresh Attitude, Young Body" by BTMI or "Heartilation" by AJJ. otherwise, if I'm in the shit and I have some space, I'm gonna lean into crying to try to come out feeling better, the "Virtue the Cat" songs generally provide a good cycle for that. I know this prompt only asked for one and was relatively simple but this is what I have for you!! 

2. what’s your feel-good movie?

The History of Future Folk. I need to watch it again 

3. what’s your favorite candle scent?

I very regularly go through the Vanilla Lavender candles from Public Goods

thank you!!

[sideboot]

👀👀 @ the potential analysis of jamie choosing to drink vanilla vodka

SO APPARENTLY THIS BEING A DEEP AND LAYERED CHARACTER DECISION REQUIRING AN EXPERT ON ALCOHOL (or at least someone who actually drinks, unlike me) IS NOT TRUE what happened is I told my partner that jamie was drinking vanilla vodka at the club with some of the guys and internally my partner went he’s drinking that at the football club, at the place he works? Fucked up! And then we actually watched the scene and they were like :// why did you lie to me, lmao

The short version is this is definitely my fault. The long version is apparently it super matters that keeley is there? To decode this from a masculine dominated setting? I did not realize that o’brien or goodman or whoever the fuck’s sitting in the corner also had a girl with him, I thought it was the boys + keeley.

So the canonical character implications is that roy is from a generation where masculinity means you drink the types of hard liquor with nothing to cover up the burn nor any fruity flavors because you’re a fucking man hurr durr, and he’s making a little dig at jamie’s masculinity but also at jamie’s immaturity for. You know. Doing nothing more than being twenty-three and picking a beverage at a club that is an expedient way to get drunk.

roy is masc and old and judgy, even though his reasons in this particular moment are understandable: he is specifically replying to yet another comment about how he's old.

Anyways, more under the cut for the probable canonical reasons jamie is drinking vanilla vodka in this specific scene and for the original draft of the meta when I thought vanilla vodka was just Jamie's favorite and go-to drink

jamie is drinking this because either 1) keeley actually likes it, or is at least nostalgic for the drink that she got drunk on from her early twenties, and so originally ordered it (you can see her drinking from a bottle with the same branding in the background) and jamie’s just shrugging and getting the same cause he wants to get drunk, or perhaps 2) as is my fun new headcanon, he was introduced to this drink by a previous girlfriend and liked it and despite what people expect from appearances and gender stereotypes, keeley is actually the one who wouldn’t usually drink this if it wasn’t for her partner, or 3) he’s just a fiend for vanilla flavoring on the level of naruto’s sasuke uchiha has a post fandom flanderization boner for tomatoes.

But yeah jamie drinking this is apparently a generic young party boy in a club with his girlfriend thing.

The original version of the meta went something like this:

First, a disclaimer. I don’t drink. Neither does my partner, but they used to. As much as we wish otherwise, neither of us can help but be American. America has a very specific drinking culture, mainly shaped by our weird alcohol laws. Our legal drinking age is very high and once you hit twenty-one, you gain legal access to every type of alcohol at once. We also don’t have the same pub culture, which I would also guess is partly due to the fact that our shit public infrastructure means most drinkers can’t get home as easily without drinking.

Meanwhile, Jamie would be growing up in England meaning at the very least, his first legal access to alcohol would come when he is in his mid or early teens and able to order his own beer in a pub. He would be experimenting with drinks with a low percentage of alcohol in a supervised environment.

Let’s try getting into it anyway, and if I’m an idiot I can find out later.

Vanilla vodka that’s commercially available is for the most part cheap and for the purposes of mixing into cocktails. Most flavored vodkas sold just anywhere run towards being cheap and shit with the purpose of the flavoring to hide alcohol that would otherwise probably taste like nail polish remover.

Someone is in a liquor store picking out this to drink straight needs to either really, really like vanilla flavoring or to be trying to get drunk cheaply without tasting alcohol only they have no idea what they’re doing. Otherwise, usually they would be more likely to pick things like a sour fruit or candy flavored vodka which have tastes that generally more people would find interesting enough to enjoy.

This interpretation made me very excited. It makes perfect sense with Jamie’s background he would view drunk as a fun destination with a shit journey best kept short as possible. I pictured a possible Jamie with a lot of baggage around drinking who could be mellow about it when definitely sober or definitely drunk but would get into his own head when in the awkward in between.

It would also make sense if Jamie had no real education in alcohol. Jamie’s most likely drinking experience came with his peers, who would also be young and not know shit, and his father. Tartt Sr. is, I imagine, shit for Jamie to be around when drunk, and does not have the personality where he would be a nice teacher for anything much less drinking. Less someone holding your hand as you explore your tastes and more a guy who pours you a shot and when you cough and tear up he laughs and calls you a pussy.

I could imagine Jamie pretending to being all about getting to hang out getting drunk with his dad and his mates the one time and then never doing it again and forming very bad associations with whatever they happened to drink that night. I headcanon James Tartt Sr. as being a whiskey drinker, and the kind of guy who saw the James/Jameson pun and immediately ran that joke into the dirt. Cheap whiskey drinking also falls under one of the three main flavors of longterm alcoholism but this is getting long so I will expand on that in another post

Jamie is clearly willing to throw his money around for things like fashion, which he knows he likes. So him drinking something cheap and probably not very tasty shows a discarding of the idea that alcohol could be tasty or a hobby improved with consideration.

In summary, Jamie drinking something cheap and awful reeemphasizes a lot of what we know about his background. It could mean that for all his party boy reputation, he views drinking as means to an end that isn’t enjoyable in it of itself. He has a background that meant he didn’t have access to anyone who serve as a teacher for the nuances of alcohol culture. Jamie begins the series at a point in his life where there’s much about his tastes and identity he hasn’t bothered investigating, until the instigation from people like Keeley, Ted, and Roy. All of this would be perfect characterization.

It also works as perfect characterization if Jamie drinks of vanilla vodka because he enjoys it. Jamie has other tastes that people judge, like his fashion choice to go without a shirt, and he does these things because he cares more about enjoying himself than he cares, or is even able to register, the judgment of others.

The other part of this discussion that held up were post maturation arc drinks for Jamie, but this is so goddang long I’m going to make that its own post.

[berrymilkwithsugar]

Strengthening bonds. (Homestuck)

A/N: I haven’t written a fic like this in a long time, my bad if I’m a bit rusty. This is also purely indulgent so sorry if it’s a bit ooc. Otherwise enjoy. Tw for swearing.

The scent of vanilla filled the air, music was playing softly in the kitchen as Mr. Egbert was preparing another cake. It was his son’s birthday after all, so he felt like this is the perfect time to bust out the Betty Crocker cake mix and slave over a hot oven. Time consuming yes, but he didn’t see anything wrong with spoiling John with cakes.

Despite it being abundantly clear that over the past few months John and him have started to grow distant from one another, maybe he was overdoing the fatherly doting, or maybe he wasn’t spending as much time with him anymore. The oven’s timer begin to beep snapping Mr. Egbert out of thought, he quickly put on some oven mittens and removed the fluffy cake. He placed it on the rack for it to cool down. Glancing over at the photo of him and a six year old john on the wall, he sighed.

Oh what he’d give for them to rekindle their father son relationship.

Maybe they could go to the Dadly depot, no John would get bored rather quickly. Make a cake together? As much as he would love for him and John to do that, John might not be as enthusiastic. God what can they do. He grabbed the now cooled down cake and removed it from the tin, he then begin to apply the fluffy vanilla icing. While this was nice, he still couldn’t rattle an idea in his brain on how to bond with his son.

Once the cake was finished he decided to walk to the living and look through the photo album for as a guide, flipping page after page, he felt like he was hitting a dead end until he saw one photo where it showed him tickling a little John on his tummy. Mr. Egbert smiled at that memory, John was around four year’s old and refused to go to bed, so he had to pull out the “tickle monster” to tucker the little tike out. It had become a bedtime ritual for the Egbert’s whenever John wasn’t keen on clocking in for the night. Not that Mr. Egbert was complaining, his son’s bubbly laughter always left him with a smile on his face.

Wait.. that’s it.

The sound of rapid typing can be heard from outside John’s bedroom door. Presumably chatting with one of his friends. Slowly Mr. Egbert opened the door quietly, glancing over seeing fake arms in his son’s cake. “Well, that’s one way to decorate a cake.” He mumbled under his breath. He cleared his throat, startling John a bit. “Dad what the fu— I mean what the frick?!” He said as he quickly exited out of pesterchum. “Sorry, I’ve just wanted to see how you were doing.” His father’s voice was calm and soft, causing John to ease up a bit and sigh “I’m fine, just chatting with friends… stuck fake arms into a-“ “The cake.” John’s father cut him off. John tilted his head to side before glancing over to the cake. “Oh, well. I was getting sick of cake.” He admitted, a frown donned Mr. Egbert’s face as he sighed and shook his head. “You could of just asked me to store it in the fridge for later.” He mumbled, “But never mind that now.” He waved his hand “I wanted to ask you something.” His expression turned stoic.

“Do you hate me?” Mr. Egbert pondered, John was taken aback by the question “Wha-What? No!! Why would I?” How could his dad come to such a question. “Well, it’s just that we’ve.. seem to grow rather distant over the past few months. I understand it’s normal for there to be teen angst but I didn’t think it would effect our father-son bond this much.” Oh that’s how.

John was astonished, was he actually acting that bad? Sure his dad can be a pain in the neck from time to time but he didn’t think he would chalk it up to John hating him. “Dad..” he reached his hand towards his dad before pulling back and looking down. Shit is it really this difficult for him to find the words to help comfort his father. Just as he was about to speak, his dad began to speak. “So I decided that it was long overdue to reintroduce you to an old friend.”

John gave a quizzical look as he got up from his seat. “You have a guest over?” He asked, Mr. Egbert took a step forward prompting John to step back. “Yes, and and I think you know him quite well.” John tried to rack his brain to see if there was anyone his dad could be referring to. “He used to visit you when you little, when you had those nights where you refused to go to bed.” Once that sentence slipped from his father’s mouth, John’s eyes grew wide in remembrance. No.. there’s not way he’s actually-

“Dad.” John took a few steps back, raising his hands in defense “D-Don’t even think about it.” A wobbly smile formed on John’s lips, “I-I’m beheheing serious.” He said through nervous giggles. Mr. Egbert cocked a brow. “Dad? Who’s this Dad you speak of? I’m the tickle monster!” Mr. Egbert then shot his hands out only for John to dodge them, he tried to run past his dad only to pulled in a hug from behind.

“D-Dad wait-“ But it was too late, his father’s fingers were dancing around his rib cage, causing John to bite his lower lip to stifle giggles. “D-Dahad c-come ohohon I’m nahat a little kihid anymore.” Mr. Egbert smiled at his son’s fruitless attempts to muffle his laughter. “Oh? You’re not? Hmm, well I guess you wouldn’t react if I did this.” He switched over to John’s sides, breaking the dam as sweet laughter filled the room. “Ohohoh gahahahad!” John tried to pry his father’s hands away from his sides, but the man was too strong. Mr. Egbert smiled at his son’s melodious laughter, sounding so carefree and lively, and his reactions to different spots was the cherry on top.

John’s laughter reached an octave as his dad went for his tummy, “WAHAHAHAHAIT NAHAHAHAT TH-THEHEHEHERE!” He squealed, instinctively backing away from the tickles only to further pin himself to his father’s chest. “Aw what’s wrong, is your wittle tummy to sensitive.” He teased, John’s face burned a bit brighter. “IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’M NAHAHAHAHAHAT A BAHAHAHAHABY!!” John protested against the teasing. God why did those work on him. “Oh does the wittle baby hate the teasing, does it make the tickles worse?”

Okay now John was convinced his face is on fire. Or at least it had a color to rival the Betty Crocker spoon. “YEHEHEHEHEHEHEHES- HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOLY FUHUHUHUHUHUHUKING SHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT!!!” John cackled as Mr. Egbert let out a gasped at his son’s profanity. “My my, such a filthy little mouth, I think this calls for a punishment don’t you think?” John felt himself being picked up bridal style before his father sat down, placing him on his lap. John took this moment to catch his breath before he felt a hand picking up the hem of his shirt. He froze and panicked “Dad! Wait please, I’m sorry just don’t do that!” He begged.

Me. Egbert pretended to be deep in thought before he took a deep breath and place his face over his son tummy, causing John to squeal. “W-WAIT WAHAHAHAIT!!” Mr. Egbert grinned at this “I didn’t even do anything yet and you’re already laughing up a storm.” John opened one of his eyes to look at this father, huh guess he wasn’t-

Right when his guard was down, Mr. Egbert bent back down a blew a large raspberry on John’s belly, causing the thirteen year old to shrieked. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHAT EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE NAHAHAHAHAHAT FAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAIR!!!” Tears of mirth began to roll down the bespectacled boy’s cheeks. “All fair in love and tickles.” Mr. Egbert quipped before blowing another raspberry only this time it was directly on John’s belly button. “*Snort* NYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA DAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD *Snort* PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE *Snort* AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!” There it was, that snorty laughter Mr. Egbert knew and loved.

He decided to let up on the boy, using his thumb to wipe away the tears from his’s son’s cheeks. John giggled as the ghost tickles were still in effect. John took off his glasses and wiped his eyes before looking at his dad, who had a smirk on his face. “What?” John tilted his head in confusion.

“Oh nothing, just during all of that, you never once told me to stop tickling you.” John froze, Christ he was right. “W-Well.. um..” John stammered a bit. “You must have really liked it.” Mr. Egbert ruffled his hair, John pouted and crossed his arms. “Okay NOW I hate you.”

“Watch it.” Mr. Egbert gave a warning pinch on John’s side. “I’m keen on having round two if that’s how you’re gonna act.” John stuck his tongue out. “Only if you catch me old man.” With that John quickly got up and sprinted out of the room, giggling as he did so. Mr. Egbert smiled as he shook his head. “You may not hate me, but you’re still gonna get it.”

Soon with Egbert household was filled with laughter once again.

[pinkiepiebronie]

Crew Gaming SFW AND NSFW Headcanons P1

Front

SFW

Mans is good at cooking. You can’t convince me otherwise.

He’s got that Gordon Ramsey vibe? Like yells and talks shit to peoples face about how ass they are at cooking, unless it’s actually decent.

Even though he’s super dominant and assertive, this man would be little spoon any damn day. 

His love language would be both physical and verbal affection.

Makes people laugh when they’re sad like the best boy he is.

His favorite is Liz. He’s got that soft spot for the bitch.

Like deadass, I imagine Liz forcing him to watch shit he hates, but he puts up with it cause he knows she enjoys it.

Take that platonically or romantically, I see it both ways.

Oli and Front? They are best of buds🤞

Josh and Front? They are the gayest motherfuckers around.

Joseph and Front? I don’t see it happening with how little they interact, but I could see some potential👀

ANYWAY.

He’s a loyal motherfucker.

Like someone’s talking shit about his friends? Mans will speak and cuss them the hell out.

Don’t even try it.

He’ll cut where he knows it’ll hurt.

Meanwhile, when his friends or S/O are down in the dumps, he’s the most praising bitch alive👏😩

Like mans will hold you and tell you everything amazing about you.

Again, he’s best boy.

NSFW

Him and Liz are certified besties with benefits. 

Once again, no convincing me otherwise. They could pull off no strings attached.

He’s a kinky little shit, but doesn’t mind vanilla.

Goes from hair pulling and bondage one day to praises and missionary another.

Depends on his mood and the surroundings.

He’s a hard dom with everyone.

Joseph, Josh, Oli, or Liz, he’ll always be on top.

Liz or Joseph could attempt at being top, but I feel even if on bottom, Front will be in control.

DEEP👏THROATY👏MOANS👏

And when he’s close to cumming- him whimpering😩🤌

Sign me up any day to get railed or rode by this man👏😭

Aftercare is a natural come with sex with this man.

Wet rag to wipe off cum, water bottle to cool off, and let’s not forget for the ladies, him forcing you to use the bathroom right after cause fuck any infections🫠

Dick energy?

Mans radiates big dick.

Like 8-9 inches with slight girth😳

And to top it off, he knows how to use it too😩

Liz

SFW

Where to begin with mommy- I mean Lizzie😳

First off, she’s SUPER generous.

Ask her for anything, ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING, and she’ll help you out.

She’ll go to hell and back for you baby, don’t underestimate the love this girl has for those she cares about.

She’s an anime fangirl from what was said on the podcast so expect her to know random nonsense on just about any anime.

Not only that, do I smell a potential cosplayer?👀

Liz is besties with everyone.

She gets along great and has a natural click with everyone in the group, aside from Josh, that’s her brother you Alabamian whores💀

Liz and Oli? Besties. All the way. They stay up watching movies and anime together, testing shows no one else wants to watch with the occasional appearance of Front.

Front and Liz? Established before, she’s his favorite, and he’s hers.

Joseph and Liz…

I smell something sinisterly pure and devilish at the same time :))

She’s loyal, just like Front and super assertive too!

Isn’t one to back down from shit or doing what she wants, and is upfront about everything.

Even though everyone gives her shit for being idiotic from time to time, Liz is super intelligent!

She is book wise too!

Want a book rec? She’s your girl.

She can’t cook for shit. That was established in a fanfic of mine😂

Burns water and the pot holding it.

Like- your girl can’t cook😭

Aside from that, she’s an absolute goddess to have around. 

NSFW 

MOMMY.

Girl will try ANYTHING and EVERYTHING.

Wanna try public?

Done.

Bondage?

Bet.

Choking and breath play?

You had her at choking🤌

As mentioned before, she’s an anime fangirl, meaning roleplay sex is inevitable.

Whatever the scenario, she’ll give it a fair shot, she does probably favor hate sex though😩👀

Like Front, she’s a kinky little bitch to put it simply.

Switch energy.

Oli? She’ll top his ass any day.

Front? She’s a whiny bitch on his dick.

Joseph? She’s down to reverse rolls with him. Let him pull the reigns as long as she gets to as well.

WHIMPERER👏

Like, she’s not loud during sex, but go down on her and give her head, OH BOY. 

She’ll be turning to mush in seconds with how whiny and desperate she’ll be.

But this bitch radiates brat energy, meaning she won’t give into any demands too easily😈

Joseph

SFW

Like Front, he’s best boy🥺

But Joseph is EXTRA best boy material👏🥺

He’s a goofball, but he’s so sweet and soft with those he cares about!

Want a drink from sonic?

He’ll get you one with some fries to top it off.

He always goes that extra mile when doing things for other people.

He’s also determined and quite intelligent.

Once his heart is set on a goal, he’s doing everything he can to achieve it in the best way possible.

Loyalty and trust is a must!

Trust is Joseph’s biggest thing.

He seems wise?

I feel like he’s got a lot of life experience and is often the guider of the group? 

Offers advice when needed but listens when wanted.

Trust would definitely be important to him though and that’s why his bonds with people matter the most to him above everything else.

As previously said, best boy👏🥺

Stay tuned for Part 2!

[caffeinatedcursedcutie]

Whumpee kept up her polite smile, her head swimming with the symphony of fragrances wafted through the room, a blend of delicate perfumes and the aroma of meals being served, some of which she couldn’t even pronounce the names of. The hum of conversations, clinking of glasses and silverware making it hard to narrow in on the person in front of her, trying to talk in polite conversation that she doesn’t give a shit about in the first place. Eventually, she realized they had asked her something, and leaned in closer as if the noise of the ballroom is what caused her to miss the question. “Ah! Showtime already? Of course, best to be up to the stage!” She offered a smile, standing and tossing her fancy napkin off her lap, onto the forgotten plate of food that she was too nauseated to eat. Her entire head lurched as she did so, and she sucked in a sharp breath over the usually effortless and automatic motion caused a dull, throbbing pain across her ribs. Being shoved into a beautiful dress with bruises blooming across her skin, each movement, each breath, serves as a poignant reminder of the bruised ribs she had sustained while being the face of the city, the hero they deserved. 

A deep set weariness made her sway on her feet, which she covered up by stepping across the ballroom, around the back to the stage stairs. Another rattling breath, and she stepped up across the stage with a dazzling smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, our own wonderful…” 

The sound of the announcer’s deep voice blended into the murmur of the crowd, a crowd that to her looked like a sea of shining accessories and silhouettes of people turning their gaze to her, a never ending audience that demanded more, more, always more from her. 

She sucked a breath through her teeth before picking up the microphone, the closest thing to silence that the ballroom could offer, the droning buzz of talk quieting down to something that didn’t make her head throb quite so terribly. “Give me my robe, put on my crown. I have immortal longings in me.” Her tongue snaked between her chapped lips, barely covered in lipstick that tasted of vanilla.

“Now, no more. The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip. Yare, yare, good Iras; quick! Me thinks I hear Antony call. I see him arouse himself, to praise my noble act.” 

The pain in her side made her give pause, pressing her hand into her ribcage and hiding it as part of the performance, holding her torso as if in great grief. 

“I hear him mock the luck of Caesar, which the gods give men, to excuse their after wrath.” She sucked in a breath, the beating of her own heart banging against her skull like a tidal wave. 

“Oh, husband, I come: now to that name my courage prove my title! I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done?” Heat was crawling up her spine, pain, red as the sunsets that marred the sky of her city, fighting against her every word. 

“Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell. Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, the stroke of death is as a lover's pinch.” 

The words, she should know what the next word was. The crowds adored her for this talent, breathing life into the poetry that was otherwise dead on the page, and yet she found a falter in her words. 

“Which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still?”

She shut her eyes. Just for a moment, just lost in the performance, but not to look as if she felt something wrong with her body, the pain making her breath stutter and her mind missing the words. Time stuttered, a second feeling like an eternity, and it was a great effort to speak again.. 

“If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world, it is…it is not…” 

Her thoughts dissolved into silence, the world eclipsed into a void as her body fell to the floor.

[sammydem0n64]

✏️ + 🍰 + 👑 + 🖍️ forrer zeo !

ZEO. MY LOSER.

🍰 Fav cake flavor? Are they specific about types of cake?

I feel like he’d only enjoy standard cupcakes (vanilla and chocolate cake with whatever frosting) but I can imagine him enjoying a slice of smth else every now and then. He doesn’t know shit about cakes aside from that so he doesn’t have it in him to be particular (then again maybe his preference for cupcakes counts?)

👑 what does your oc want to be remembered as? Why?

Not some lowlife loser, that’s for sure.

✏️ is there a particular quote/lyric you associate with them?

Got a small list!

Thought of this while writing this but the ENTIRETY of “I’m Not a Loser” from the spongebob musical. Because he’s delusional.

This is so embarrassing but I misheard the lyric of “victorious over my dead body, sometimes I just scare myself” from Fighting With the Melody as “I’ll just kill myself” which I also thought was in reference to the NSFW lyrics. Like I thought the lyric was implying the person Jimmy Urine wants to rock the body of was like “over my dead body” hence the kill myself line. THAT is Zeo-core but apparently that’s not even a lyric so?? Pretend that it is my vision is great.

Various things Randy Jade from dialtown said (sorry randy), mostly him saying “beggers can’t be choosers” when asked about his sexuality and smth along the lines of good thing my pants are already wet! ...cause otherwise I’d have to change them.” After he got flirted with YES the implication is nasty LMFAO

🖍 what advice would you give them

LMFAO 😭 realistically I don’t have patience for people like Zeo irl so I’d tell him to shut the fuck up

But for actual advice, I suppose I’d tell him to move on with life. He needs to learn to let go but also accept that he was hurt in life and obviously has things relating to his past he refuses to process. He needs to allow himself to heal instead of getting the validation he craves from others in the way he does.