#he's a rock but before he wasn't a rock and that's all i need to know

[burgojo]

OWN MY MIND. GOJO / M!READER

summary. nah, satoru wins.

wc. 4k

tags. smut | sub bottom gojo, top reader, husbands gojo/reader, slight blood and gore, needy gojo (he a little feral) (he's also whipped as hell), riding + teaching a pillow princess how to ride <3, spit as lube, untouched orgasms, multiple orgasms, rough sex, breeding kink, brief feminisation

notes. i'll learn to write less, i said. not every smut fic needs nine thousand words, i said. i reduce the intro to 600 words and this is still way bigger than i intended :))) skull emoji.

Ryomen Sukuna is dead, and Satoru's white hair is red with blood. For a split second, his chest was cleaved open clean in two, and he could feel the air rushing into the cavity of his chest. His exposed heart, red and slick, shuddered with the crackle of cursed energy forcing its way through every cell.

He thought that was his end. Surely it was. The monstrous, wicked grin on Sukuna's face certainly hadn't helped.

My husband.

As if in slow motion – everything feels so slow after moving at light speed, at thousandths of a second – he turns, pulse thundering against the walls of his skull. Red, red. So much of it.

My husband. My husband.

Satoru's unblinking blue eyes scour the silent battlefield for the distinct presence of your cursed energy. He hones in like a nuke on the smoky trail wisping in the air, as potent and attention-stealing as the stench of cigarette smoke at a road crossing. He takes a step, the ground unsteady and his horizons tipping, and licking his dry lips blooms the heavy iron of blood on his tongue.

I need my husband.

He follows the trail his Six Eyes shows him. He shoves past the sorcerers clamouring for his attention – his open wounds and vacant eyes don't inspire a lot of confidence – but he pushes past them, gaze trained on the wispy breadcrumb trail so teasingly left behind.

He puts one foot in front of the other. Then again. And again, again, again, until he's blitzing through rubble and ruined streets, his heart slamming into his broken ribs. His feet pound the ground as if he's trying to move the earth itself. A solid ball of heat and pressure has filled his core, curling and roiling and throbbing, pushing him to move, to find you – to fuck you.

My husband.

There you are, cradling your students and healing the worst of their injuries with frantic, grateful whispers of their names. Shoko's nearby, fluttering from patient to patient like a small bird – but your students, his students, flock to you and your steadiness, like wreck survivors to a sturdy rock at sea.

It wasn't only him learning new tricks, then – you certainly couldn't heal others before all of this.

He wants your hands on him. In him. For him. He skids to a stop just as you finish squeezing Nobara half to death in relief, and you quickly stand as his presence looms behind you. His clothes are shredded, barely hanging on.

"Satoru?" you call softly, voice husky with exhaustion, and there are new cuts and bruises littering your skin. Always so selfless, tending to others even when you've got three broken ribs and less than ten fingers.

Satoru seizes your wrist, the blood boiling in his veins at the sight of your injuries. Anger ripples hot under his skin. "Heal yourself," he demands, chest heaving.

You blink, glancing down at the hand in his tight grip. Cursed energy floods the space where your fingers would be. Satoru watches reverentially as the cuts seal over and the bruises fade.

His pale skin shines, sweat gathering wherever his blood isn't. Did he run all the way across the city to get to you?

"Satoru, the others need to speak with you," you try, but you can't help the sneaking suspicion that he's not all... there. His cerulean eyes are wide, tracking you like a predator in wait. You don't think he's blinked once. "I'll take you to Ijichi."

"No," he downright growls. Without another word, he drags you close, shoving his nose in the crook of your neck, and the whole world uproots, tipping and whirling in a nauseating swirl of colour and wind.

You nearly retch when your surroundings still, your head spinning. You stumble away, fumbling with the shoji doors in front of you and throwing them open.

Clean air. Neat greenery, a wall of trees, garden paths.

"Is this," you swallow, your stomach settling, "the Gojo estate?"

His skin burns as he wraps his arms around you and buries his face between your shoulder blades, his sweat-damp hair tickling your neck. Something hot and stiff ruts into the back of your thigh and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, a gasped moan leaving his lips.

You smell like blood, sweat, and a sweet warmth like the sun. He pants, each lungful filling him with your dizzying smell, strong and masculine. He gropes at the front of your trousers, shaking hands scrabbling at the zipper as if it's the first time he's touched such a thing.

"Satoru," you grunt, grabbing his wrists and turning around, "what are you doing? Why are you still bleeding?"

"Do it for me," he breathes shakily, widening his legs slightly to rub against you harder. "Please."

Your throat bobs and he follows the motion hungrily with his eyes. You lift your hands unsteadily and hover them over his shoulders, unsure of where to touch because it doesn't seem like there's an inch of him gone unwounded.

He decides for you, grasping your wrists and pushing his face into your palms. His thick white lashes flutter as your technique washes over his body, pulsing warm and pleasantly tingly from deep within his core. It's the same kind of flooding heat when you come in him, just everywhere this time – every limb, every finger, all the way from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. With legs like jelly, he moans quietly, his parted lips turning to the side and licking your thumb into his mouth. He suckles on it with eager, needy whines, lashes fluttering as he stares up at you with pupils blown wide, turning the sky blue of his eyes as dark as a deep ocean.

"Satoru," you whisper, entranced, pushing your thumb deeper into his mouth. You watch him moan, his body both taut and pliant under your touch, and his tongue laves against his own blood coating your skin. Criss-crossing his skin are a thousand scars you doubt any technique could completely reverse.

His head spins with the taste of your skin – warm, slightly salty, alive. Alive because of him – because he protected you like a good husband.

That's what he is, isn't he? Your perfect husband, the strongest of them all? He leans into your hand, short breaths puffing hotly against your palm, as he stares up at you, big damp eyes debauched and brimming with mania. He pushes his throbbing sex against your thigh with a whimper too sweet to ignore. You draw your thumb out of his mouth to grip his hips and pull him into you, letting him hump your thigh like a bitch in heat.

"I wanna," Satoru gasps hotly, arms thrown around your shoulders, "needa fuck you, baby, please – I-I'm—"

High on adrenaline, you surmise as he yanks you to the bed, shoving you down and clambering on top of you with less grace than usual. His breaths grow uneven and slightly whiny as he struggles with your many layers – undershirt and shirt and jacket, underwear and pants and zipper and belt – and he lets out a frustrated snarl.

He slashes an arm across your body. A crackling blade of pure cursed energy arcs through the air, slicing clean through the threads of your clothes. It bites a few millimetres into your skin, making you hiss as ruby beads pearl along the cuts. "Shit."

Satoru moans at the sight, tearing the remains of your shirt from your arms. Leaning down, he laps at the wounds, dragging his hot tongue over the dips and curves of your muscles. It scratches a primal itch in the back of Satoru's head, cooing happily knowing he would be well taken care of in your company. Your stomach heaves with effort – the tangy taste of your sweat and blood and the sound of your groans are enough to make his tip leak and bubble, soaking the front of his pants with just a few drags of his hips against air.

You manage to undo your trousers enough for Satoru to pounce. He closes his lips around the straining bulge in your briefs and sucks hard, his saliva saturating the cloth. He grinds into the mattress, nails digging into your tense thighs as he slobbers all over your clothed cock, a fucked-out expression gracing his reddened face.

"So biiig," he whines, though the drunken smile he wears tells you he likes it more than he should. He massages you with his fingers, tracing the outline of your shaft down your leg with a dreamy grin, dripping with lust and honey.

You grunt, combing your fingers through Satoru's snowy locks. The tips are dyed red, as if he's gone goth, and you shift your legs to push him off. He resists. "Baby, wait. We're both covered in blood."

"Don't you dare tell me to wait," he growls – pleads. His nails dig into your thighs. He pushes his mouth against your clothed cock, his hot breaths sending spiked shivers up your spine.

When you say nothing, acquiescing silently, Satoru lowers his gaze and fishes out your cock – he does it without his usual shy sweetheart eagerness, instead spitting on it as he pumps it, his other hand yanking at his torn pants. His pretty, dusky cock leaks and bumps his stomach. He kicks his pants off his ankles and hovers over your lap, thighs tensing as your thick tip presses against his hole.

You grab his hips, fighting against his own strength. His sharp gaze snaps up to you, blue-black with lust. His lips curl with impatience.

"Satoru," you choke out as he squeezes your shaft punishingly. "Honey, lube's in the closet drawer. Don't—"

He stares you down with a crippling intensity that makes your heart drop into your stomach. Your pulse races and your mouth goes dry as you stare back, withering slowly with every moment. He exhales softly as he smears your leaking precome down your shaft, slicking it up.

You swallow, head slowly tipping back to rest against the pillows. You keep your eyes on him all the while, hands loosening on his muscular thighs. Your fingers leave red marks on his alabaster skin.

He drops his hips. In one smooth motion, his greedy hole swallows your cock in its entirety – his ass smacks against your thighs and he lets out a loud, relieved groan, leaning forward and placing his hands on your chest. The lights flicker with a pulse of uncontrolled cursed energy.

Your heart beats beneath the cage of your ribs. He presses his palms harder against the sticky heat of your skin, committing the pattern of your heartbeat to memory.

He did that. He kept you alive.

Satoru lifts and lowers his hips, using the bounce of the mattress to help him ride you. His ass smacks roughly against your thighs, meeting halfway when the mattress pushes you up into him. He pants, breaths gasped and uneven, as his red, throbbing cock slaps his stomach, leaving a shining wet patch just above his belly button. His eyes roll back and his silky walls throb and squeeze, milking your cock as if he can't get enough, even when your balls press flush against his ass.

"'Toru," you hiss, staring up at his blissful expression. Your dick throbs at the sight and he whimpers, grinding down harshly before returning to his quick, rough pace. "Satoru! Fuck – slow down!"

"I can feel you," he whines instead of listening to you. He places a hand on his stomach, chest heaving as a wobbly smile spreads across his flushed face. "I-I can feel – here – f-feel the vein—"

He cries out as he manages to find his prostate despite the hot fog possessing his mind. His dick dribbles down the shaft but he doesn't touch it, too absorbed in the deep fullness your cock affords him.

Satoru's never been one to take control in the bedroom. He loves being pampered, being your pretty prince, and it's clear he doesn't know how to ride you. He slams his hips down, desperately trying to find that sweet spot inside him again, and if he keeps going like this, you're going to need a cast for your hips.

He makes a sound like a gurgle, arms trembling as he arches his spine. His cock drags against your stomach, pinched between your bodies.

"Baby. Baby, Satoru – let me help," you grunt, his warm insides slick with your pre. He spreads his ass, swallowing you deeper, and you struggle to sit up, his constant bouncing rough and harsh and animal.

"No," he hiccups, and when you glance up, there are tears glimmering along his lash line. "Needa fuck you. Gotta get your cum in me, okay, ruin this big fat cock with my hole – you're never gonna leave me. Never gonna wanna leave me. I'm the only fuckin' one who can make you feel like this, got it?"

Your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, unused to his sharp words, and his heart flutters as arousal curls thick and heavy in his lower belly. He can feel you there, splitting him in half with your meaty cock.

God, you're so perfect – he's so fucking glad that your clan didn't make things difficult when he marched in there and demanded your hand in marriage. Who cares if you're both men? He's pretty enough to be your wife and powerful enough to bring your enemies to their knees. You wouldn't have to do anything except fuck him brainless, cooing in your gorgeous sultry voice about how good he is for you.

His hips quicken, his moans bouncing around the room, almost drowning out the wet clap of skin on skin. You grip his little waist, pale criss-crossing scars smooth and feathered under your touch. He preens, lean muscles flexing under your attention. You press your thumb against one beneath his pert pink nipple, dangerously close.

Satoru's hips jerk and his eyes glaze over. He comes with a ruined mewl of your name, gasped and open-mouthed as he shoves his chest into your touch, his hands scratching stinging lines down your shoulders. The lights flicker again, this time dark for longer, and the burst of coursed energy he releases is hot and wanting, seeking you out. You shudder.

You moan at the pain of his nails digging into your back. Satoru humps his spurting cock against your stomach – pearly rivers trail down the planes of your stomach, and his eyes flutter with a final spurt that splatters your chest. He heaves like he's dying, clutching you and ramming your cock into him even when his high peters off.

It's barely a breath before he's kissing you, lips hot and pillowy and slick. Fuck, he's goddamn drooling, licking into your mouth with a hand on your nape to make sure you don't pull away. He moans into your mouth, swallowing your groan of his name with a greedy, whorish whine. A string of saliva joins your lips and he pushes his mouth against yours again, sharing moans and hot panting breaths.

"Come," he whimpers, accentuating it with a grind of his hips that has your cock twitching and his walls pulsing. "Inside. Please. Please, please, 'm so empty – wan' you t'come in me, let everyone know this cock's all mine! Want it all, wanna be marked up 'n' smell like you...!"

"Filthy," you grunt, slapping his ass and basking in his mewl of pleasure. You do it again to make his arms weak and hear him sob. "Is that right, 'Toru? You wanna get knocked up, wanna be my dirty little bitch?"

Babies?

Satoru's head spins just thinking about it. Wouldn't you be a great father? You do so well with Megumi and Tsumiki already – and sometimes, when it's quiet, Satoru does mourn the fact that he never had a sweet, fat little baby to hold and play dress-up with. If he had a baby, he'd want them to look like you.

He can't think straight. Adrenaline numbs his thoughts. Your cock buries itself deep in his guts, the thick head prodding his stomach, and your shaft rubs harshly against his swollen prostate with every rise and fall of his hips. The pleasure licks in his lower stomach, and every time your cock kisses his prostate his balls tighten and throb.

You slap his ass again, jerking him out of his drunken daze – he mewls, his reddened skin hot and tender. "Don't get quiet now, pretty. You dragged me away from people who need me. Least you can do is answer my fucking question."

"Mmh—!" Satoru's hole clamps around you, wet with spit and pre as he bounces, and he moans hungrily against your neck as your balls smack against his ass. Each slam of his hips on yours is almost painful. "Yes! Yes, yesyesyes, baby, 'wanna be your pretty slut 'n' get knocked up by this fat cock! Fill me – ah – u-up, fuck me up, feels so fuckin' good, wanna taste it—!"

"Yeah, baby, don't worry. I'll give it all to you," you mutter, and arousal coils tight in his belly at the sound of your groans, right in his ear. "Such a good boy, did so well today – you deserve it all, don't you? Deserve to finally sit back and enjoy your picket-fence life, hm?"

"With you," he whimpers, voice wrecked. His taut little hole, dark and swollen, glides along your shaft, his gummy insides sticky and warm and oh-so sensitive. His thighs tremble. "Only if it's with you."

You stroke his sides, which tense under your warm fingertips. "I'm yours, 'Toru. All yours. This cock is yours, too," you murmur, a slight lilt of amusement touching your words. "I'll fill you up every day until you take, if that's what you want. Anything for my husband, yeah?"

His eyes flicker and roll and he wails, broken little cries heaving from deep within his chest. His pearly release splatters your stomach and his heavy shaft arches towards his belly, red and swollen with desire. Staccato uh-uh-uh's leave his throat as he bounces, grinding his hips dangerously into yours.

"Satoru," you groan, half-chastising, and he whines at the sound of his name from your lips. ""Stop – stop fuckin' slamming down like that. Ovals, baby, c'mon. Back and forth – you'll put me in a damn cast if you keep going like this."

He nods desperately with a whimper, expression ruined, blue eyes hazy and teary. He tries to listen, tries to relax, but your cock is so big and it's not his fault that you take up all his thoughts! If anything, it's your fault, looking at him with those hypnotic eyes and saying his name with a voice like a siren – even the pain you cause him makes him dizzy with pleasure.

"'M sorry," he babbles, forehead and chest dipped against your sternum because his body's too heavy to hold up, "f—ah—feels too gooood, 'm s-sorry..." With your help, your heavy tip strokes his prostate with every drop of his hips, the ridges of your head catching on his hot, rippling walls. He was never very good at riding, but the perfect size and shape of your cock makes even his unsteady, inexperienced technique feel like heaven.

He's obsessed with you. You really were made for him.

"Much better," you hum, your hands on his waist to guide his movements. His hips stutter violently at the praise and you grope his ass as his thighs clamp tight around you. For his efforts, you reward him with a sharp spank, squeezing the tender meat of his twitching thigh where the print of your hand reddens his skin.

Satoru presses his mouth against yours, hot and messy – teeth clicking, tongues rolling – and the pain of his nails clawing at your shoulders sends you over the edge. Satoru gasps and cries out, his voice cracking as his eyes roll to the back of his skull. He follows you immediately over the precipice – so quick he almost beats you to it – and you love the way he falls apart in your arms, trembling and jolting and coming so hard it splatters your chest.

He hiccups out a sob, gawping, toes curling as his mind goes blank once more. Your come slicks him up nicely, eases the burn, and the warmth of it soothes his throbbing walls. It leaks down your shaft, creating a white ring around your base that froths and smears his skin with sticky strings.

The lightbulbs shatter entirely.

His orgasm lasts a while, spurts of thick come painting your stomach and chest. He sinks his teeth deep into his lower lip until he can taste iron. You hold him through it, and he presses himself further into your embrace as if he can get closer than having you inside him. His expression is dazed and blissfully fucked-out, the new scars adorning his skin like draped jewels.

He'll hold this over you, you know it. Every argument will be promptly shut down with, Remember that time where I fought Sukuna and won just for you? You can't say you're not grateful or won't be eternally in his debt for saving, quite possibly, the entire country, but you also can't say you'll be pleased when you ask him to complete his mission reports and he pulls that out of the bag.

At last, Satoru slumps against you. He's a moaning mess, his quivering hole still sucking in your cock whorishly. You're both covered in sweat, come, and a not-insignificant amount of blood; judging by the pain splitting your back, not all of it was from earlier. Cursed energy surges through your body, and the long bloody rakes down your back seal over.

"Fuck," you whisper, your voice wrecked as you sink into the bed. Your eyes flutter shut. "Ow..."

There's blood under Satoru's nails, and some sick part of him enjoys it specifically because it's yours. He doesn't have to say anything for you to kiss him and heal the cut in his lip, warm and tingly cursed energy flooding his senses and making him shudder with a valiant twitch of his spent cock.

He mewls when you pull out of him despite your gentleness, and you don't think it's the pain that he's unhappy about. His gaping hole leaks come, a thick milky glob of it rolling down his shaky thigh when he clenches around nothing. He reaches down and pushes it back into himself with two fingers, trying his best to scoop it all up.

Satoru only stops when you steal his attention, kissing the scars over his forehead and cheeks. You can tell he's still not quite himself, as he stays rooted in place over your lap with his gaze trained on you even as you try to coax him to lie down beside you. Eventually, as if coming to understand that it's over, he allows it, tucking himself against your side and entwining your legs together possessively. He rumbles out a soft purr against your chest, an arm over your waist, and he stares up at the bulb of your throat and the soft underside of your chin.

You still don't think he's blinked while looking at you.

He nuzzles into his favourite place below your chin, warm and content. His skin buzzes pleasantly with the remnants of your reversed cursed technique, still zipping along his nerves and over his synapses. He curls his legs tighter around yours.

Then, his little voice pipes up, dazed and faraway, barely a whisper: "I love you."

You brush his bangs back and kiss his forehead. He smiles, plump and flushed and pleased. "I love you, too, Satoru. Always."

He seems satisfied with your response, finally closing his eyes. You hold him tighter, and it's only a few seconds before he's lax and breathing deep and even.

The two of you are too tangled up to even attempt aftercare, as he's draped over you. You're not sure what he'd do if he woke up and found the bed empty, even if you're just in the bathroom, so your eyes slide shut and you cradle your dear little husband in your arms, protecting him from what you can.

You still haven't spoken to the other sorcerers. Satoru's going to have a big day tomorrow...

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 14 — HE'S POSSESSIVE & YANDERE

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — zhongli, dottore, capitano, pantalone

— warnings. — fem! reader, toxic behavior, tw yandere, mentions of baby trapping (dottore's part), rough syx, mentions of blood (pantalone's part), biting/marking, dirty talk, brat taming, jealousy

⚝ ZHONGLI

zhongli's grip on your waist tightens as though the weight of his soul hinged on the shape of your hips as he whispers your name like a sacred hymn, his lips tenderly grazing over the hollow of your throat— and morax cannot stop repeating himself, mine, you hear it? he mouths it against your skin so sensually, mine in this life, mine in the next, mine across every cycle of erosion.

his cock carves into you with a loving patience that amplifies the fire in his gaze, he wasn't one to fuck you rough and deep right away, not at all, because zhongli was far too old for haste, you know? instead, he buries himself slowly so you can feel it all, with a god's hunger for persistence.

you swear you can feel his every vein graze through your walls, his slow but consistent pumps rocking into you further and attempting to dissolve into your very body as his forehead rests against your own, sweat pearling where your bodies are fused, and his eyes— amber, ancient, stare straight through your soul.

"do you think i could forget this?" he groans above you, his voice aching from pleasure, though his thrusts were gradually becoming more brutal now, "do you think i could ever let you leave, now that i've felt you like this?"

your spine arches at his filthy choice of words and you can feel how soaked you were at this point, your slick dripping around his length in humiliating gushes with every new thrust, your cunt pulsing desperately as he moans out your name, archons, moans— as if your need were his own suffering.

zhongli goes all the way in, fucking every inch, every thick, pulsing vein through your cunt until it's all messily shoved inside you, forcing your walls to stretch around him like they were never meant to, like your body had no choice but to take it. fuck, yes it burns, of course, he's part dragon after all and it's too much yet at the same time, not enough.

you can feel his tip scratch against your most aching spots repeatedly, rubbing them apart and pushing up against the limits of what you could take as he made you twitch and clamp around him like you're choking on the intrusion as your nails drag across the large expanse of his toned back.

zhongli groans at the sharpness digging into his skin as his fingers squeeze your hips bruisingly, tight enough so it's not considered gentle anymore, not tender nor sweet, yet hungry, completely fucking gone.

"even stone," he gasps, no, he breaks, his voice torn from the pit of him, as if his divinity was talking through him, "even stone breaks with time, but not me, not for you, i will not erode, i will remain with you forever," your walls clench around him as he crumbles, forehead crashing to your shoulder with his breath hot and shaking against your wet skin, resembling your complete warmth being the altar and his body the offering.

⚝ DOTTORE

your body utterly rewires with dottore's hand's around your throat— not tightly, not choking, but claiming, like a collar held by his master, with his breath coming in through harsh, delighted pants against your ear as he forces your legs wider with one knee, sinking into you with merciless, almost scientific precision.

"oh, how you weep for it," he laughs, his voice alight with that hideous brilliance, the unholy thrill of unraveling something delicate and divine. dottore continues watches you sob beneath him with eyes as big as saucers, your overwhelmingly broken noises turning his face in awe like a laboratory specimen gone beautiful as he laughs, his expression bright with mania.

"such a reaction— such exquisite collapse," he groans before tenderly licking the tears off your cheek like he's tasting a drug synthesized just for him, so slow and lewd it made your cheeks burn as his tongue trails down to your tensed jaw and gulping throat, obviously where your pulse pounded like it's trying to escape.

"your body tells me the truth," your pulse flutters where his voice settles, rasping low like a warning, "it opens for me even as your mind screams or begs, perhaps? you begs so sweetly," as he thrusts into you again, your hips immediately betraying you and rising up to meet his blows with no mercy for your own good.

"you would never betray me, correct? say it," he echoes mockingly as his warm exhales bleed over your neck, "no, no, this is devotion, this is biology," as he cups your face like a holy relic, feigning any kind of love and fondness within his eyes as for a moment, it could truly be believed that you mattered to him.

if he could, dottore wants to stay in your body forever, not just for this moment, but as a permanent echo as every thrust was a question carved into your velvety insides—will you keep me? will you survive me? as your cunt answers without mercy, sucking him in and trapping him within a tight constriction, fluttering tight, shamefully eager to please your lover.

and to be frank, the friction was slowly about to become unbearable and you do not remember for how long the both of you were going for already as you're full past your capacity, your nerves screaming and shriveling at his dangerous, rigid thrusts that landed with slick, guttural slaps on slaps on slaps which sounds like sin itself, fuck— you feel so filthy with dottore on top of you, it's so wet, loud and nasty that your body was taking him with a noise that should humiliate you, yet it only made you crave him harder.

your back arches, hands clawing uselessly at the sheets yet he doesn't consider stopping anytime soon as he fucks you sharp and unforgiving, each drag of his cock slithering through your walls was calculated to make you scream out in pleasure— it's designed to be too much, every inch of him stretching you wide and cruelly slow as though he's measuring exactly how far he could push you before your body gave up on its stamina.

every step dottore took shook you to your core, yet when he suddenly presses a kiss to your temple, feeling as though he was deranged with fondness, your body shakes underneath his comforting cold, "there's no version of reality where you'll leave this bed without me staining your womb," words fall out of him as his voice drips with venom and delight, "i'll cut your name into my skin if it means you'll never forget mine."

⚝ CAPITANO

all you could hear was the sickeningly loud sound of your bodies connecting and becoming one with the mess between your thighs serving as a reminder of hours gone by as capitano breathes deeply into his chest— each inhale awakening a tremor through you and each exhale hovering hot against your mouth.

capitano doesn't say much to you aside from watching you intently, because you see? the harbinger doesn't have to, in fact, the silence coils around you like a chain, thick with intent, heavy with the gravity of his presence alone as words would only cheapen it— this unbearable, suffocating stillness where only his breath echoed something shallow on top of you.

his gaze pins you down without his weight even trying to, his eyes darker than sin and steadier than death when you realize— no voice could ever claim you the way his silence already did. capitano possesses you with absence, commands you without a sound and without a doubt, your body would always obey him, through chains and trembles, welcoming him open and spread.

his cock forces its way deeper now, each rock of hips impossibly thick as you bite down on his shoulder just to keep from moaning so loudly as you're shaking through the overstimulation he caused, completely wrecked, and yet he hasn't said a single word yet.

instead, his massive hands held your hips in place, his thumbs bruising into your bone as he pushes in again— slowly, even slower than before, not to mention cruel as you swear you can feel him in your lungs.

the weight of his body crushes the air from your lungs as then—finally, the voice of a man who rarely spoke, yet when he did, the world stilled to listen, "this is what your body was built for."

⚝ PANTALONE

"do you have any idea what it costs me to behave?" pantalone spits out as he shoves you flat on your stomach, one hand forcing your cheek into the mattress, the other kneading the flesh of your ass.

by this point, you're drooling, legs kicked open and cunt stuffed, your arousal and his cum leaking down your thighs, "what costs you not to ruin the moment? tell me, for you to stop smiling at someone who isn't me?"

he slides in with a wet, agonizing stretch as you welcome him with your back arching off the mattress when one arm loops around your body to pull you closer. his cock bullies its way impossibly deep thick inside you, and every move of his was screaming rich and cruel as pantalone fucks you like he negotiates— with control and precision, aside from enough venom to bleed you dry, every slap of him scraping you raw from the inside out.

his voice was like a hiss in your ear, thoroughly sharp with jealousy, "you're mine, everything you have is mine, your cunt, your moans, the pathetic way you soak the sheets— all of it," as he belittles you, slapping his hips against you so wildly the sound of it all almost drowned out his voice.

you sob into the pillow as he repeatedly slams into you, again and again, losing control as you're too occupied with salivating in the feeling of his thick cock pounding you relentlessly hard, fucking into you so deeply with everything he's got as his fingers dig into your hips, your stomach caving in from how deep he hits your insides, from the unforgiving stretch and the endless mess between your thighs.

"you wanna be greedy?" pantalone sneers, "you want more? more cock? more cum? i'll give you everything, i'll fill you so full, it'll spill out every time you try to walk away from me," as his rhythm breaks down into desperate, needy thrusts as he bites your shoulder hard to somehow contain himself.

without a doubt, the harbinger fucks like he owns time itself— as if he bought it? truly controlled and luxuriating in every inch of your body like it's the spoils of an empire. yet when he loses it at last, oh, and when the mask cracks you ask? his rhythm shatters into frenzied, gasping thrusts, each one an obvious confession of everything money cannot buy.

at last, he cums with his lips hovering over your throat before sinking his teeth into your shoulder sharp and punishing, almost brutal until a faint amount of blood blossoms under his mouth like a signature as he moans into the subtle wound, his breathing ragged and body spent

"you belong to me, do you understand? i’ll never let you go," how befitting of pantalone to fuck you like he's angry at you giving someone else a faint amount of attention— if he could even claim for it to be the reason still when in reality, the harbinger simply wanted to put you in your place.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[seongminiz]

proving a point (and kind of failing) – p.sh

. . ? sunghoon gets handcuffed (hell yeah) – smut / minors dni ; 828 words

cw handcuffs , afab reader , handjob , orgasm denial , unprotected sex , a lil bit of dumbification

🗯️ yk the drill , this isnt proof read – it wasn't even supposed to be this long but my pretentious ass got poetic n ended up writing more than expected .. n then i got bored n sleepy so it became kind of ass idk honestly .. not proud of this one but i'll live i need to allow myself to be a mediocre writer bc at the end of the day its not that deep

handcuffing sunghoon to the bed's headrest , restraining him n saying for once you are going to be in charge ,, when really , you both know sunghoon is merely granting you the illusion of power , for his own amusement , his eyes following your every action waiting for the moment you'll cave in n admit defeat , letting him take control again .

it's all a game to sunghoon , n maybe to you too – but it's also a matter of proving yourself .

you straddle sunghoon's hips , stubbornly ignoring his sweet , sweet voice as he plays his part , pleading for you to hurry up and touch him already in a whiny tone that feels almost mocking.

'shut up,' you retort as you drag sunghoon's boxers down his legs , leaving them around his knees without much care . sunghoon is right, in a way : you do have to hurry up , not dwell for too long on the details, take what you want without giving it more than half a thought to not let your resolve crumble and let him take control again .

sunghoon bites back a whine as your fingers wrap around his dick. for a second – it feels like an eternity to him – you just stay there , running your fingertips along the circumference of his cock, tracing its details as if you need to map it out, as if your body, your insides haven't already memorized its every single millimeter , to exhaustion.

'i told you to hurry,' sunghoon lifts his hips, searching for more friction that you don't grant him as you retract your hand with a smirk.

'and i,' you actually wrap your hand around sunghoon's cock now, giving it the smallest squeeze before pumping it once. 'told you to shut up.'

you don't know how your voice doesn't shake , how you manage to meet sunghoon's eyes as you start to slowly , painfully drag your hand up and down his length , to hold his gaze when you pick up the pace and he finally – or at least , for a moment – gives in , tilting his head back and letting you take your time with him .

it's not long before sunghoon feels the incipit of an orgasm building up in him . in his defense , he's been rock hard ever since he got in this predicament, if not before you even told him you wanted to take charge for the night . sunghoon just thinks you're the hottest person to ever walk earth, and anything you do could get him bricked up without you even trying to.

just as sunghoon is about to voice just how close he is , your touch disappears again , a satisfied smile creeping on your face when you hear him groan in disappointment.

'you just have to be a little patient,' you reassure him , your nails lightly scraping the inside of his thighs.

you lift your hips slightly and push your panties to the side , you grind down on sunghoon's cock and let your wetness coat it , your legs shaking when his tip bumps into your clit before you finally align it to your entrance and let yourself sink down on him slowly .

so agonizingly slow sunghoon genuinely feels like he's about to go insane . he uselessly pulls at his restraints , the urge to hold you , grab your hips and pull you down onto his cock all at once almost unbearable as he feels you take him centimeter by centimeter , clenching around him .

you hold back your own moans , trying so hard to mantain the dominant role you've taken up , despite how feeling so full , so close to sunghoon is enough to reduce your brain to mush .

'sunghoon' you call out , bracing yourself on his toned stomach so you can lift yourself up just to immediately slam down – it's too fast , and slightly painful , but you need it , immediately missing the fullness when you raise your hips .

'what is it, baby?' there it is . that tone , the condescension that had been barely shining thigh his words earlier , now clear as day even in your fogged up brain .

your frown, grinding your hips as you try to form a coherent thought. 'it's...' you don't manage to finish the sentence, half trailing off , half interrupted by sunghoon bucking his hips up to distract you . this motherfucker .

sunghoon is now shooting you a smug smile , a raised eyebrow as if he's challenging you . he looks back at the handcuffs for a moment. 'whenever you want, baby.' he reminds you , voice softer .

you decide that fuck it , you can't take it anymore. fuck being in charge, fuck your pride and fuck sunghoon – literally and figuratively.

it's not long before you have freed sunghoon from his restraints , leaving sweet , delicate kisses on the marks that have formed on his wrists before his hands find your hips , moving them for you as he holds you close to his chest , his mouth busy licking and kissing along your neck to muffle his moans as he finally gets to fuck you properly.

[cranberrymoons]

there is something so beautiful to me about a buckneddie schroedingers roommates situation where they exist as this within the context of their lives. and eddiechris have moved back in and buck put all his stuff in storage and is sleepn on the couch because it's eddie's house. kicks rocks. not his house. big sad eyes. and Eddie feels so bad for him about it and also doesn't want him to leave so much that he's just like. big sigh. buck you paid the rent for this month so it's kind of your house for at least the next three weeks. and buck is like I mean I guess. but after that........ and eddie's like okay well you can at least sleep in the bed. for three weeks. I'll take the couch. but buck feels bad about that too so they fight about it for 20 min and be passive aggressive before inevitably deciding to just share the bed. of course. and the three weeks are going on and buck keeps going to his storage unit to get random things that he needs and bringing all his kitchen stuff back into the house and Eddie starts putting his stuff in the storage unit to make room for the stuff buck is bringing. and this whole time they're keeping up this facade of buck moving out in three weeks. but then buck pays the rent for June out of habit or maybe it's on autopay a la a reversal of hugh's accidental sugar daddy fic :))) and Eddie is like well I guess that means you have to stay. for June. since you paid the rent again and this is technically still your house. for June. and throughout all of this they are sharing a bed and furiously jerking off in the shower separately and being so normal about it. until one morning after a night out they wake up hungover and sweatsticky and mouths tasting like gin+beer and naked except Eddie is still wearing a shirt and buck has one sock on. and they roll over and look at each other with both their hair all fucked up and a pillow line down buck's cheek and buck is like well. what the fuck. I pay the rent around here and you're going to fuck me half dressed? and eddie's like snort. okay. first of all I didn't fuck you. and buck is like I know; I wasn't blacked out I remember you blowing me in a way that definitely wasn't your first time doing that. so what the fuck x2. and Eddie is like shut up. I don't want to talk about it. do you want another blowjob or not.

[casdean-jenmish]

Just Stay • B. Barnes

Word Count- 3.8k

Tags- angst, there’s so much angst, married!bucky, y/n insert (cause I couldn’t be bothered for a name), there’s a child included, dad!bucky, hints at sex (very vaguely, sorry no smut this time), just a lot of angst guys

"You'll be okay bug, I promise daddy will home in the morning." I mumbled. Here I sat with my six year old daughter as she cried. Bucky has been gone helping Steve with some business in Wakanda for about two months, so it was just Rebecca and I. She hated when Bucky was away, even more than I did. Our nightly routine was always a movie, bath or shower time, brush time, bedtime story, and snug as a bug in a rug. Without Bucky here though, I could barely get her through her bath or shower without her crying that she missed her daddy.

It was absolutely heartbreaking for me every single time. We've tried calls before bed or facetiming, but Becca still gets upset. Even before she was born she was a daddy's girl. All Bucky had to do was talk to or lay a hand on my bump and she would calm down. And when she was born? Oh boy. You couldn't get Bucky to put her down for a second without watching her like a hawk. Poor Peter and Sam. The first time they had tried to hold her, Bucky was down their throats about be responsible and acting like an adult. Don't even get me started on when we joked about Rocket holding her.

"Mommy, why can't daddy just stay home? I hate when he leaves." Becca whimpered. My heart broke in half as she clung to her deer plushie. A gift from her Uncle Steve because as he called it, it was "a buck for a mini buck". I let out a small sigh and began rubbing my hand across her back. "I hate when he leaves too Beck, but he always comes back. I promise you that daddy will always come back." I said. I tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, running my thumb across her cheek to wipe a stray tear. "Tomorrow you can spend all day with daddy, but you got to get some sleep first bug." She let out a small sigh, but nodded her head. "Mommy will stay here until you fall asleep, okay?" She nodded again and reached out to wrap her small hand around my big one.

"I love you mommy." "I love you too bug."

I waited for her breathing to even out and small snores to start filling the room before I made my exit. I made sure I left her door ajar so the hallway light peaked in a little. Even if she wasn't scared of the dark, it made me feel better knowing she had some light. I took in a deep breath before making my way downstairs. Now just to wait on my husband. Steve should just be considered Bucky's mistress at this point. I rolled my eyes at the thought. I just miss my husband, doesn't mean I need to compare his best friend to a side piece.

I began picking up the living room, hearing the slight clink of the metal under my shirt. Bucky had given me his tags before he left for a three month mission. He said he wanted me to have a piece of him while he was gone. Part of me always wondered if it was actually because he didn't expect to come back from the mission. It was always a risk when he left. I always waited for the day that Steve would show up at my door without Buck by his side. I felt my heart weigh down in my chest at the thought of him not coming home one day. I could never make it without him.

After Becca was born, I never went on another mission. I stayed at the compound with her and the rest of the avengers. Depending on who was home, I practically didn't see Becca all day. Every time she needs fed or changed or burped or rocked to sleep, they would take her. Always telling me "go get some sleep, I've got her". It amazed me how quickly everyone fell in love with her.

Especially Vision and Loki. Loki would smack my hand anytime I tried to take her for nap time. Which was strange to me because Loki wasn't exactly fond of children to begin with. I had multiple photos of the god of mischief laying with Bucky and I's daughter tucked into his chest. Not that Loki ever needed to know about said photos.

When Becca turned two, Tony gifted Bucky and I our own home so we weren't cramped into the compound with everyone else. A three story house, six bedrooms, three full baths, fully decked out kitchen, in-ground pool in the backyard, finished basement, office area, and so much more. Bucky refused to take it at first due to his past with the Stark's, but Tony shut it down real quick. "I'm not saying I'll ever forgive you Barnes, but you aren't that man anymore. I don't think the winter solider would ever cry over a little girl getting her hair trimmed." Which lead to them fighting over if Bucky actually cried or not.

Just because I stopped missions though, doesn't mean the great White Wolf did. Steve and Tony both said that Bucky would continue to be a great asset to the team. I think Bucky truly didn't want to give up having the life he was used to. His whole life has been spent fighting and even if he hates it, it's practically his comfort zone. When he found out I was pregnant, it scared him. It absolutely terrified him because all he could think was 'i have taken so many other people's children, so why do i deserve my own'. It took weeks for the closest people around him to get it through to him that he deserved this as much as the next person.

The first four years weren't bad. I could handle him being gone for weeks, a month, or even two months. Sometimes even as long as four months. Here lately though, every time he walks out the door I'm worried I won't see my husband again. I know for a fact that it has a big affect on Becca. She loves her dad and if he's gone for more than three days, she's not her normal cheery happy self. I sat on the couch and sighed as I seen all the toys still scattered. I just want him home for a change.

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I slowly open my eyes as I heard the shut of a door. I heard the footsteps of my husband begin to echo suddenly. What time is it? I looked up at the clock on the wall, only for the hands to be pointed at 2:48. Almost three o'clock in the morning. Four hours after he was supposed to be home. I huffed in slight annoyance making the footsteps come to halt. "Sweetheart?" I rolled my eyes and slowly sat up from my laying position. The footsteps began making their way towards me, but I was thrilled like I usually am. I was severely annoyed with everything.

"Why are you on the couch sweets?" I looked up seeing his concerned face staring down at me. I could see confusion slowly take over as he noticed the annoyed look on my face. "What's wrong? What happened?" I scoffed at his words. Of course. I stood up from the couch and made my to the kitchen, Bucky following close behind. "Why are you mad?" I could hear the worry in his tone. We weren't a couple that fought, mostly due to our pasts. We bickered and argued, but never got to the point where we were yelling at each other. It's the one type of fighting we always prevented from happening. Seems like I wasn't able to prevent this one though.

"It's almost three in the morning James, why am I mad?" I asked snapping my head over his way. I could see his face fall as he realized. "I was supposed to be home at eleven." He muttered. He ran his hand down his face while I just nodded. "I'm sorry. Steve needed me to stay for debriefing before we leave again tomorrow." He said. I just smiled and shook my head. "Of course he did." I snapped, slamming the cupboard shut. "Y/N, you know how these thing-" "Yes James! I know how the work! I understand that you have a job, you have a responsibility to the team, but what about our team? What about our daughter?!" Bucky looked at me with his eyes wide. I wasn't someone who yelled, at all.

"Sweets, I'm sorry. I know I'm not home much, but I'm trying so hard." I let out a dry laugh as I opened our dishwasher. "Not hard enough." It wasn't fair to say, I know how hard he tries. I know that he does the best he can to stay home and be available for work. "That's not fair Y/N and you know it." He said with a small hint of aggression in his tone. "No what's not fair is that you never seem to have time for our daughter! When's the last parent teacher conference you went to? When was the last dance recital you attended?! When did you last hug her goodnight? Or even-" "I get it Y/N! Got anymore ways to explain how much of a shitty father I am?!" Here it is, our first actual yelling match.

"She's cries every night for you! She misses you so much and you're never here anymore! We might as well be divorced!" I yelled. I immediately regretted the words when Bucky's angry face dissolved quickly. Instead he looked hurt, wounded even. The silence was suffocating, just like every night without him here. "Is that- are you saying you want a divorce?" I felt my heart start to crumble as his eyes watered over at the words. "Buck-" "You're getting divorced?" I quickly snapped my head over to see our daughter standing there with tears down her cheeks.

"Bug-" she quickly turned around, running back upstairs with sobs falling from her lips. Without a second thought I rushed up after her. I could fix the fight later, right now my buggy needs me.

My heart finished shattering when I walked into her room seeing her curled into a ball. The sobs leaving her lips was never what a mother wanted to hear. It was gut wrenching. I quickly made my way over to her bed, resting my hand on her back. "Becca, please don't cry." I whispered. She just shrugged my hand off of her and buried her head further into her pillow. I sighed as I felt defeat rushing through me. I looked over as I heard the floorboard creak quietly. There stood Bucky with almost the same look of defeat.

He walked in and sat beside Becca's bed. I watched as he reached his metal hand across to grab ahold of her small one. She loved that her dad was part 'robot'. I felt tears filling my eyes as Becca slowly turned her head towards her dad. Her small eyes swollen and her lips wobbly. "Why is my pretty girl crying?" Bucky asked. His tone as gentle as the hold he had on her hand. "Y-You and mom-mommy are getting a div-divorce." She hiccuped. God, I'm a terrible mother.

"Mommy and I are just having a disagreement right now princess, I promise-" "But you said you were! Don't lie daddy!" Becca cried, burying her face back into her pillow. Bucky sighed and leaned towards the bed. "Buggy, daddy and I aren't getting a divorce." I said, Bucky looked over at me with almost relief on his features. "Stop lying to me!" I sighed at her words. I moved closer and laid down beside her. "Sometimes things are said that shouldn't be said Bug, and that happened between daddy and I tonight. Mommy said things she shouldn't of. You know how when you're upset, you say things to mommy that you don't mean?" I asked. I smiled slightly as her small head nodded.

"Well, that's what mommy did. She got upset and said things she didn't mean." I said. I began rubbing her back, watching as she slowly pulled her pillow away from her. "There's my princess." Bucky whispered squeezing her small hand. "Why were you upset with daddy?" I heard her small voice ask. Oh, sweet girl. I looked over her head to see Bucky looking at me. The guilt on his face made me want to burst out in tears. "I was upset because I miss daddy so much." I muttered. His eyes watered as he looked at me.

Becca suddenly turned towards me with a look of remorse. I felt a tear fall from my eye as she placed her little hand on my cheek. "I miss him too, but remember what you told me mommy? Daddy always comes back. He always comes back because he misses us too." I let more tears fall as she looked at me with those sweet blue eyes. "He comes back because he loves us."

————————————

I sat with my knees tucked into my chest tightly. After Becca calmed down, she asked Bucky to read a story to help her go back to sleep. Instead of staying for story time I left the room. It gives Becca that time with Bucky she so desperately needs. She needs him, sometimes I think more than she needs me. I never viewed it as bad thing though, I knew that Becca loved me. It's just hard when she practically never sees Bucky, who is ultimately her favorite.

I ran a hand through my hair and let out a deep sigh. I need four years of sleep. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and stood from my spot. I shimmed out of my sweatpants and walks over to the hamper of dirty clothes. It doesn't fill as fast anymore. I shook the thought from my head and threw the pair of sweatpants in. I flipped the light on to the walk-in closet and made my way around to find a pair of shorts.

I tensed as I heard the bedroom door slowly shut. And here it comes. I could hear the footsteps making their way towards the closet and it genuinely worried me. What was I supposed to say to him? "She's asleep." I heard him mutter. I couldn't bring myself to look at him though. It's our first ever fight, what was I supposed to say after the harsh words that left my mouth? "Baby, look at me." I felt the tears rush to my eyes as he stepped closer and closer to me. His hands circled around my waist and I felt my walls crumble.

"Sweet girl-" his words cut off when I let out a small sob. "I'm so sorry." I cried leaning against him. I heard a small sigh leave his lips before his head came to rest in the crook of my neck. "No, I'm sorry." It was so comforting to feel the words mumbled into my skin. "I know I'm gone too much. I know I'm not home as much as any of us want. I know it's hard on you and Rebecca." He knows, but he hasn't done anything to change it? Does he not want us anymore?

Almost as if he read my thoughts, the arms around my waist tightened. "I want to be home more, don't ever think I don't want to be here." He spoke, rubbing small circles on my hip. "Then why don't you stay?" I whispered. I felt him tense at the question, telling me that he was hiding something. What could it possibly be?

"Because I have a responsibility-" I let out a weak scoff and looked down at the floor. A responsibility to the team. "Don't do this, baby please don't." He whispered as I began to remove myself from his arms. "I forgot, the responsibility to the team is more important than your family. Sorry I asked you to come home tonight. I should've been more considerate and told you to stay at the compound. At least then you're only a shake away from the quintet to rush-" "Stop!" I tensed as I heard the anger in his voice.

"Why are you being like this tonight? Why is it all of the sudden an issue?" I let out a small laugh and turned to him. His features looked exhausted, hurt, and most of all? Guilty. "It's been a issue for months James! Months! But you're never home for us to have this fight! You're never fucking home anymore!" I could feel the tears building up with my last sentence. I just wanted him be home with his family, why is it so much to ask?

"You're never here anymore and it's killing me. I feel like I've lost my husband, my soulmate. We agreed to be parents the minute we discussed I was pregnant, so why does it feel like I'm a single parent doing all of this on my own?" Bucky put his back against the closet wall, slowly sliding down which each of my words. I could see the stress and tension weighing down his shoulders.

I bent down with him and grab ahold of his hands. "Buck, every time you walk out that door-" I stopped as the words got caught in my throat. I worry you won't come back. I felt the tears filling quickly as I tried to keep myself calm and collected. "I worry that I'm going to lose you." I cried.

He leaned his head back, allowing me to see the tears falling down his cheeks. "It's more than some responsibility, I know it is. So please tell me what's going on, tell me so I can help." I begged. He let out a small sob and squeezed my hands tightly in his. "She'll hate me. She'll find out soon and she'll just hate me, Y/N." Bug. He's worried about Bug finding out about Soldat.

"Those days are so far behind us. Baby, that girl worships the ground you walk on. She will understand that you were doing what you had to do to survive." I whispered. He was crying profusely, the idea of our baby girl despising him for his brainwashed past being overwhelming. "She won't be disgusted by you, just like I wasn't. That part is one of things I love the most about you, you know why?" I asked. Bucky looked at me, his eyes bloodshot from the tears. His lip was wobbly and the hurt was evident on his features.

"Because I know that it wasn't you. I know how hard you fought to be free from those chains. I know that you pushed your hardest to be the man that you are today. The man that cries every time he sees our wedding video. The man that worships every step our daughter takes. The man who dances with me in the kitchen at two am when he gets home, just to feel me in his arms. The man that loves with his whole heart and soul. The man who went from being a tortured soul to being a selfless hero." He closed his eyes tightly as cries left his lips.

"James Buchanan Barnes, you are the strongest, bravest, most selfless man I ever known. You are the love of my life. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." I said, resting my forehead against his. I felt my heart swell with love as he wrapped his arms around me, making me sit in his lap. He continued to let out cries as he held me close to him. "Don't you ever think your past will make us hate you. You are our baby girl's world." I whispered, placing small kisses along his beautiful facial features.

"I love you so much."

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I let out a slight groan as I felt consciousness making it way through my body. I instinctively reached my hand out to Bucky's side of the bed, only to feel the cold sheets beneath the warmth of my hand. My eyes shot open to find an empty bed. My heart nearly split in half as I realized that he more than likely left early this morning. Yet another week of him being gone. Another week of an empty bed. It's exhausting constantly waking up and being depressed. Especially when you have another human being to take care of while you're trying not to break down and cry.

I flipped the comforter off my body, shivering at the cold air. It's even harder after you spend a night filled with nothing but pure love. Nights where it's nothing but being vulnerable with one another, just for him to be gone again in the morning. I held back the tears in my eyes as I stood from the bed. I walked over and grabbed the first sweater I could find. I threw it on to cover myself up, then threw my hair into a lazy updo. Time to wake up Becca and start our routine.

I opened up the bedroom door, only to hear the sounds of Rebecca laughter. She must be watching tv. I slept in too late for her. I sighed and ran a hand down my face before heading towards the steps. I can’t take this any longer. I once again fought back the tears as I headed down the steps. “Becs, turn the tv off so we can have some break-“ my words stopped as I seen my husband and daughter sitting on the couch together, hand in hand.

“Good morning Mama! There’s breakfast on the stove! Daddy didn’t want to wake you up.” Becca said smiling at me. She was quick to turn her attention back to the tv, Trolls was playing which meant no one mattered right now. I looked at Bucky, tears no longer being able to be held back. “Bug, I got to get up.” Bucky whispered making her nod. I held back the sobs as he walked over to me, his face filled with so much love.

“I’m on leave. Talked to Steve last night after you fell asleep. A mechanic job sounds nice right? Something simple and easy?” I couldn’t help the sobs that left that time. He wasted no time to scoop me up in his arms. “I’m home baby. For good. No more leaving, no more missions. It’s time to be home.” I held the back of his head, making sure he was kept close to me as I cried in his arms. “I love you so much sweets. I’m home.” I smiled as I let out a mix of a sob and a joy filled laugh.

“I love you more baby. I’m so glad that you’re home.”

[venxomi]

TBHK Chapter 126 Analysis - The cost of a reckless wish

The Hourglass

The chapter begins with Nene flipping the Hourglass, but it not activating for a simple reason- According to last chapter, you need to make a wish first. The Hourglass simply didn't take effect because Nene hadn't made one.

So when the cat jumped in and saved her, explaining to Kako that it had only intervened because it relates to wanting to help- or save others. It was the wish of the one the cat had been before, and now it was Nene's. Because of the cat, the Hourglass now knew what Nene desired and, as a result, activated.

In essence, the Hourglass needed to know what the user wanted. Otherwise, how could it send Nene on endless loops, and, just like the other victims, have her soul waste away?

Along with information from the previous chapter, we have further confirmation that this Hourglass is nothing but an entity that, just like the pit god, wants to consume. In this chapter, it's shown directly- Nene is turned into sand as she is kept within the hourglass. It speaks to her.

"I am- We are- The Flow. Power. Time. Sand."

The Hourglass essentially boasts its capabilities; That it's a constant. That it's powerful. That it's limitless. And that's not the only thing. "I am- We are-" suggests that it's made up of a collective consciousness.

"Welcome! You have come to join us!"; It's not even trying to hide its goal, is it? To amass one more consciousness, one more soul within it, as it's made up of its users' corroded souls.

Did you know? Sand forms when rocks break down from weathering and eroding over thousands and even millions of years. But the Hourglass' process is faster than just waiting such an absurd amount of time. The moment Nene flipped the hourglass, the process had already begun. Along with the sand, Nene passes through it. Again and again. Again and again. Until her soul, slowly but surely, erodes into fine sand.

To put it in extremely simple terms, Kako was right. It's not an item that is actually capable of helping you reach your desired outcome. It dangles it in front of you like a carrot on a stick. That is all. It proves to you that it is capable of leading you to your desired result, but it doesn't allow you to reach it. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you think or how many times you try in desperation, you are unable to grasp the bait, the flicker of hope, in front of you.

One who sought riches would be killed by bandits. One who sought to gain someone's love ended herself and that someone. One who sought fame was killed by envy. One who wished to bring back people for the sake of someone else had that someone else disappear from existence. And one who simply wished to save her friends... Had them killed by her own hand.

But it's all right. For as long her soul is still in one piece, she can keep trying. Again and again and again... Wrapping her in its hands, pushing her down and continuing the slow process of corrosion. A fake "Good luck", an ironic one, fully aware of the end result.

Dehumanization

If you are familiar with my analysis of chapter 121, this is basically an expansion of it.

In it I talked about Amane's dehumanization process, how he is a victim of the Red House, a trapped soul who is unable to disobey, and also about having to kill his own family, his own little brother he loved so much, and then being forced into killing countless other people for the pit god which desensitized him completely.

Nene is directly put into Amane's shoes, where she fell victim to the Red House and was forced into its servitude. Unlike Kou in the past, who had been exorcised before he could harm the people he loved, Nene wasn't so lucky. She had to kill the friends she desperately attempted several times to save.

In this scene, Amane is projecting onto Nene, as she is in the same position as he once was. Holding onto her to prevent her from falling in a twisted way of providing comfort, possibly.

His assertion "See? I knew you could do it." suggested that a possessed Nene hesitated killing her loved ones, and maybe that struck a cord within him. That he had hesitated to kill his own family aswell, but he had no choice. That, just like him, she could do it. To further prove him right, that there's no meaning to life, death or anything else in this cursed house.

At that moment, The Red House had initiated a new feeder, freshly dehumanized. A kindred spirit.

Nene's sanity is frayed and she fell into despair. Her figure doesn't appear in the hourglass anymore as she flips the hourglass in a panic.

A new glimmer of hope (?)

Nene is now at her wits' end. She didn't even understand what had happened, only that she killed everyone. She can't figure out why. As a result, as she guessed, she would've repeated the same mistake.

However, a new hope emerges after she had been plunged into despair; The Clock Keeper of the Present. Will this hope be genuine and not just a carrot on a stick that Nene prepared to sacrifice everything for in vain?

Akane subtly reflecting in Nene's eyes reflect her desire to grasp on any sliver of hope she can find.

Thoughts and Predictions

Going a bit on an unserious remark, as a Re:Zero fan I absolutely loved this chapter. Subaru (who, if you don't know about the series, travels back to a point in time when he dies. He dies and suffers in various attempts to save the people he loves... A hell lot. He is unable to speak of this ability to others, so he suffers in silence.) has gained one more kindred spirit. I even illustrated this quick doodle of Nene and Subaru!

Back on topic, on the rare case that this is the worst she'll be through, it will permanently mentally scar her. Perhaps she might be able to put on a facade and pretend everything's fine, but no one is ever fine after being part of such horrors, having your friends die several times because of your failed attempts, and ultimately having them die by your very own hands. And if she's unable to speak about her experiences as this chapter suggested where she couldn't mention being from the future, then it's really over. I'm of the personal opinion that Iro will break Nene in order to further develop her character. Hit the bar as low as you possibly can, for your character to rise higher than ever before- That kind of technique. Every passing chapter seems to solidify this. Nene's flaws are tripping her up and making her horribly fail. She resolved to save everyone and fought by herself, but she was far too reckless in her desperation. Made a reckless decision of coming into contact with an entity that was properly explained as dangerous, had a hasty wish, and couldn't even figure out what actually needed to be changed after several attempts. She could only further fall into despair and break. I can't really put it into words properly as of now, but I can grasp what Iro wants to do with her character. Slowly, but surely, Iro has been working for this all along. Nene can no longer be ignorant of the world's cruelty. If she wants to understand and save everyone from it, she has to experience it for herself. Whether she gives up or stands back up as a result, it's a choice only she can make, isn't it?

As for Akane, as far as I can predict with the current information, there's 2 possibilities: 1. The Akane we see at the end is Akane of the 'original' timeline. The Clock Keepers' Boundary seems to be unaffected by changes in time (as it still exists despite the 7 Mysteries not existing in the new timeline), so if Akane stayed in there, then a Paradox could've been created where multiple "Akane Aoi" exist at the same time. 2. As the Clock Keeper of the Present, Akane is aware of all the attempts Nene made with the Hourglass, and as a result came to search for her after he died by her hands, aware of what just transpired. Both seem valid enough to me, so I'm honestly just curious. Can't wait until next chapter.

The cat's lines and interactions in chapter 126 further solidifies to me that it's related to Amane who had attempted to go back in time in 1968.

[jwsverse]

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 timestamp 19:29

pairing ⁝ lee heeseung x f!reader

synopsis ⁝ in which you will always wait for him to be ready, and he will always be for you.

genre ⁝ fluff, light angst, based off en-drama heeseung heh

word count ⁝ 0.9k

heeseung doesn't speak much. he doesn't talk easily and he doesn't respond immediately. it's not that he's an introvert, well he is, but there's something else.

heeseung needs time. he needs to think — he likes to think, a lot. he like to process words and ends up taking too long to respond to people. he isn't sure how he should react when these people don't wait and just take their leave instead.

he knows it's stupid to think about even the silliest of things during a conversation as simple as “how are you?” but it's an instinct thing, and genuinely, he's just a curious person to everything.

how am i? what have i been up to lately...? how am i feeling? what should i say?

thoughts consume his mind and before he knows it, the person who asked him the question has already left. they assume he's ignoring them and heeseung has no idea how to fix it.

heeseung thought he fixed this habit when he met you, who waited the longest for his response and never judged him for his short hesitant answers. he felt seen and known whenever you stayed to listen to him talk, even if he never said much.

to be loved is to be seen, is what they say. and that was exactly what heeseung felt with you.

despite his dry answers, you always asked questions with your pretty smile and soft excited tone. you always looked for him and you always, always waited.

“it's okay, take your time,” you'd say.

he thought he had someone who understood him and he never went on to fix this habit of not speaking his thoughts.

until you started avoiding him like a plague the weekend after sunoo's birthday party.

heeseung had no idea what he did, or perhaps said. he just knew that even the smallest of eye contact had you turning away in an instant. you'd take a longer route to the bathroom just to avoid walking pass his class, going as far as waking up two hours earlier for school just so you won't bump into him on the way.

it seemed like now, really, no one wanted to listen to him, and heeseung despised it. he could handle everyone ignoring him, ignoring his quiet antics and lack of responses. but he could not take you not uttering a word to him. he wasn't sure why, but he just knew it was something he had to change.

so with this new determination set in stone, heeseung woke up three hours earlier for school and waited for you outside your place for an hour or more. any time soon now, you would step out of your door in your cute maroon cardigan and neatly pinned hair.

when you did, it didn't take you long to notice heeseung standing outside your porch. you tried to rush back in but he was calling your name before you could even put on your shoes.

“i...” he rubbed his neck uncomfortably, “i just wanted to talk.“

you hesitated, before nodding and slipping your shoes on. he watched you silently as you then looked up at him and bit your lips anxiously. he took it as a sign to say something.

“um, well i just, uh, you know,” heeseung stuttered, “look, did i do something wrong lately?”

you rocked on the tip of your heels and toes, “well, no, i suppose.” you replied honestly albeit hesitant.

“then… why haven’t you been talking to me lately?”

you seem taken aback, but you didn't shy away and instead you smiled sadly.. “because, you don’t.”

“huh?”

“heeseung,” you said firmly, meeting his eyes with your wide ones, sending his mind into a frenzy. “i really like you. i know you think a lot and i know people misunderstand you, but i won’t.”

heeseung’s breath caught, heart hammered against his ribcage. it thundered and all heat rushed to his cheek at your confession.

“but i also know, that i can’t keep clinging to you all the time.” you sounded exhausted, pained. heeseung didn't want to think in this moment — he couldn't because his feelings were overpowering all his thoughts as you rambled and then suddenly—

his lips were pressed to yours with a gentle touch. you’re frozen, and then your fingers trembled as you brought it to his sides and gripped onto his school blazer.

heeseung pulled away after a short second, breath shaky as he stuttered, “s-sorry, i…”

your eyes were blown wide, in shock and… happiness? wordlessly, your grip on him tightened and you leaned forward again, softly pecking his lips. heeseung gasped after you pulled away, erupting a giggle from you.

“you kissed me first, now you’re shocked?”” you said, nose grazing his.

“i just... i think i'm in love with you.”

huh?

“what?”

“what?”

you bursted out into laughter, as heeseung blushed so hard his entire neck to ears went red. you grinned at him, tears decorating the corner of your eyes from how funny he was, and heeseung thought he's never seen something prettier.

“heeseung, thank you for telling me how you feel.” you interlocked your fingers with his. your tone was gentle and full of patience, and when you squeezed his hand in yours, heeseung knew — you're here.

and even though his mind was in spirals and words jumbled, heeseung let himself relax against you and he smiled against the skin of your neck.

because at the end of the day, you'll be there to wait until he's ready to say something, anything.

© jwsverse

[mikimakiboo]

Mermay day 15 - Free Space

This chapter has been inspired by @ancha-aus and I's ramble once again ! :D

Thank you for the idea friend :D

- Leviathantale -

Geno takes Reaper to a popular spot for selkies to nap and relax.

First

Prev

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Reaper was... anxious. Excited and anxious. Geno had invited him to hang out, to go lay with him and the other selkies on their dedicated rocks. Reaper was happy, of course, he always was happy to be with Geno, but he wasn't so sure about the chosen spot: would the selkies accept him ? Would he be allowed on the rocks ? He didn't want them to get mad and take it out on Geno because he brought an outsider, on top of being an orca. He didn't dare get out of the water, watching Geno jump on the rocks from underneath.

Geno took off his hood once out of the water, there were already some selkies laying around, some fully transformed, some with their seal skin partially off. He turned around to introduce the place to Reaper, but the mer hadn't gone out of the water yet.

- Reaper ? He called.

He was pretty sure he had been right behind...

Reaper slowly poked his head out, looking at his friend and glancing at the selkies, some having perked up.

- I don't think this is a good idea... Reaper worried.

Geno frowned.

- What do you mean ? We're just gonna lay down, come on, get up here.

The orca didn't move, he didn't want to dissapoint Geno, but he had a bad feeling about that laying down with the selkies. He slowly shook his head.

- Reaper you better get your tail on these rocks before I pull you out of the water myself, Geno warned.

Was Reaper really going to take orders from a selkie ? ... Yes. He took a few seconds, but eventually got closer to the rocks to pull himself out and climb next to Geno. All the gazes locked on him. He wanted to go back in the water. Geno didn't seem bothered as he lead him to a little spot on the side and showed him where he could lay down. Reaper followed, slowly, and laid down the closest possible to Geno, feeling the disaproving looks follow him and hearing mumbles among some of them. He was used to it, what bothered him was that they were looking at Geno accusingly, until the selkie glared at them.

- If you have a problem with Reaper being here, say it to my face instead of hiding.

Nobody replied.

- That's what I thought, he huffed, laying back down.

Reaper didn't even dare look up at that point, too embarrassed to need protection like that. He was a God ! The Leviathan of Death ! And yet he was so used to lonliness he had become awkward in social situations and couldn't even speak up for himself. He was so lucky to have Geno.

The stares slowly stopped, the other selkies returning to their nap, though some of them moved to be farther from the orca, not that it bothered him, quite the contrary actually. Eventually, he was able to relax and just enjoy the nap on the rocks.

Far away, a portion of ice from an ice foe detached itself and fell in the water, as it sometimes happened, making the rock's occupants look up. Reaper turned to Geno.

- That's because you're fat, he said, as it became a joke between them.

- Probably- 

- Excuse me !? A selkie interrupted Geno.

Both Geno and Reaper turned as the selkie, a young woman it seemed, yelled, outraged.

- Did you just say he was fat !?

Reaper stuttered, taken aback, why was the woman attacking him ?

- I- y-yes but, I say it all the time it's-

- You say it all the time !? She interruped again, and you think it's okay ?!

The orca glanced at his friend, not sure of what to do, but he was already staring at the other selkie, just as surprised and confused.

- Yes... ? It's a-

- Oh my god you did not just say that.

Ironic, as Reaper was her God.

- Do you know how disrespectful you're being !? You can't just call him fat like it's normal ! I know you orcas are brutes but-

- Okay no, you do not call him a brute ! Geno intervened.

Reaper's gaze went from him to the other selkie, were they going to fight ? He didn't want them to fight !

- He called you fat ! She argued.

- I am fat ! We're all fat ! Our species is fat ! He argued back, that was a joke ! We're friends, we say things like that all the time !

- Well he still shouldn't ! And you shouldn't even be friend with an orca, who knows what he could do !

Geno glared, fulminating, the selkies could look down on him all they wanted, he didn't care, but they didn't have the right to insult his orca when he was just the sweetest soul he knew ! 

- I do what I want. Now if you don't like it, good, because I don't give a flying fuck about your opinion. Reap', move, we're leaving, he ordered.

Reaper looked at him, glanced at the offended selkie, looked back at Geno, and jumped in the water without arguing, not wanting to be a collateral victim. Geno followed him, not caring enough to hear what more the group would have to say.

Geno sighed, he had wanted it to be a nice evening, and instead he got Reaper in two uncomfortable situations.

- I'm sorry, I thought it would have gone better...

Reaper turned to him, a slight smile on his face. He wasn't mad, to be honest he was even a little touched that Geno would defend him against the others without hesitation.

- It's okay, we can still hang out somewhere else ? He suggested.

Geno nodded, relieved that the orca was still willing to be with him after the disastrous afternoon.

- My house ?

Reaper nodded, they would be alone there, nobody to bother them. Geno smiled, taking the lead to his house, maybe the day would end better than it started.

The selkies could go to hell, they only needed each other.

[kissessio]

I live, laugh, love, breathe, and eat Terusai / Saiteru, and although it's a pretty popular shipped, it's basically hated by 50% of the fandom, ESPECIALLY people who didn't watch past Season 1 bcs Season 2 wasn't dubbed (if you're one of those people, you are MISSING OUT)

So here are some reasons why I ship Terusai and think it's one of the most canon ships we have (DNI if you genuinely despise the ship, do interact if you like it / wanna know why people ship it)

1.) Many people say Teruhashi only likes Saiki bcs he doesn't flock at her like everyone else does, and though that is the main reason he caught her interest, it isn't the main reason why she likes him. At first, it does start off like that. He doesn't pay attention to her, frustrating her as well as piquing her curiosity as she tries to charm him, which causes her to develop feelings for him in the process, which seem quite shallow at the start (Saiteru is a SLOWBURN, trust) but as time goes on and she learns more about Saiki, this false image she has of Saiki which is this shy flustered guy kind of melts away and she sees the "true" him, someone who's more aloof, stoic, and antisocial, and still accepts him and yearns for him (as seen in the mixer episode when says "it'd be more fun if Saiki was here, even if he'd just be in the corner silently the whole time...") Not to mention Saiki was the first to really treat her like a person. Everyone only sees her on the surface level as the pretty and perfect girl, basically hust a mary sue and nothing more. But since Saiki can hear her thoughts, he can see past that, and treats her as he would to anyone else – like she's a normal person, because deep down, she is. Internally, she isn't perfect, and although she gets upset when she isn't treated like she is perfect, it's inevitably what she needs bcs she heavily relies on validation of others too much that it becomes unhealthy (like when she overworked herself trying to memorise everything about everyone until she fainted and Saiki caught her) so since Saiki treats her like this, it's no wonder her at first shallow feelings would deepen.

2.) "But Saiki clearly hates her / doesn't like her or romance" The thing abt Saiki K that makes it so good is that Saiki is an unreliable narrator / the things he says won't always be true. And plus, he's a confirmed tsundure, as we saw in the episode w/ his grandpa where he said "You've been a Tsundure much longer than I have". He says he doesn't like his friends and doesn't care for them, and yet he goes out of his way to do things for them (such as protecting Kaidou from the scammer psychic lady, altering the world so Mera didn't have to hide the fact she had part-time jobs, and disguising Nendo so he'd get hired as a waiter) all under the guise that it'd benefit him or just doing it in general with no explanation. Why would it be any different with Teruhashi? He's done many things that suggest he at least cares for her (Protecting her from the newspaper club, knocking her brother out so he wouldn't bother her while she was sick, swapping out the creepy gift her brother got her for a cute one that he picked out for her, getting mad on her behalf after his brother was mean to Teruhashi, etc.)

3. The mixer episode. I mentioned it earlier, but in this episode, Imu tries to set Teruhashi up with a few guys because she was under the guise that Saiki was bad for her. Yet, as I mentioned earlier, Teruhashi yearned for Saiki's presence, even though she knew he would just stand there and most likely not even pay attention to her, she just wanted him there. This causes something to sink in for Saiki apparently, and later, the guys do rock-paper-scissors on who gets to date Teruhashi. Saiki suddenly appears and WINS the game before knocking the guys out and saying "I can't let any of you have her." Need I say more?

4.) The episode when Teruhashi fainted. In this episode, Teruhashi, as I mentioned earlier, was overworking herself to memorise everything about all her admirers because she didn't want them to think she didn't care about them. Inevitably, she overworks herself, and faints in front of the crowd of guys. Saiki catches her. He gets mad on her behalf, saying how she paid so much attention to them but they didn't even notice how tired she was before carrying her to the infirmary. Once she wakes up and finds out Saiki carried her there, she tries to find them, brushing off her admirers' next few questions and saying she forgot as she went to thank him. This means A LOT because for someone who hates attention (the main reason he even disliked teruhashi at first was because she draws a lot of attention) yet he went into the crowd and caught her, carrying her in front of all her admirers, drawing basically hundreds of peoples attention despite all his efforts to blend in throughout the entire anime. And Teruhashi, after spending so much time memorising everything about everyone for their praise and validation, just says she forgot so she could go say thank you to Saiki. Again, need I say more?

5.) Saiki's offu. In one of the season 2 episodes, Teruhashi tries to be more like Aiura, changing her style to be more gyaru-like, but later reverts back to her old self and her inner monologue says "i guess saiki wants a girl who's more true to herself... I'm true to myself!" Or something along those lines, and suddenly, she hears an "offu" turning her head and all the audience sees is saiki covering his mouth. He spent SO MANY EPISODES avoiding saying offu, even telling toritsuka during the island field trip episodes that he'll do anything to avoid saying offu, only to finally say it in season 2? And unlike everyone else who says offu over her looks or little kind gestures, he says offu because of her genuine thoughts? AGAIN, need I say more?

6.) All of the matching official art they have :

(I'll make a second post including all the other ones !!!)

7.) Saiki K family tree pattern. Everyone in the Saiki family has the initial S. K. Saiki Kusuo, Saiki Kurumi, Saiki Kuniharu, Saiki Kusuke, and if Saiki were to marry Teruhashi, her initials would be S. K. (Saiki Kokomi). Same thing with birthdays. Kurumi and Kuniharu are both born on the same month, which is the same thing with Kusuo and Kokomi, both their birthdays being on August (16 and 6)

8.) Saiki overall not being able to stop Teruhashi from getting what she wants. Unlike with Aiura, where his powers overpower hers and he's able to change the outcome of her predictions (as seen in the episode where he goes to her place of work and makes all her predictions incorrect), he stands no chance to Teruhashi's extreme luck. Despite trying to interfere with his powers, they still ended up in the same group for the field trip. Despite bringing Yuuta, the end of their amusement park date was still positive on her end. Despite trying to seem unlikable, even at the end of their cafe-mall date, her feelings didn't go away. When she wants something, she'll get it, and she clearly wants Saiki.

9.) The alternate universe episode. In that episode, we got to see one of the universes in which Saiki was still... well, Saiki, yet a tinsy bit more open with his friends. In this universe, he's actually dating Teruhashi. That means that as he gradually grows more open to everyone, he gets romantically closer with Teruhashi? Maybe,

10.) They parallel each other. So. Much. People who don't like Teruhashi often say it's because she's arrogant, but so is Saiki. Since he's psychic, he views himself to be the most evolved of the human species, and kind of has a god complex. But you can't blame him, because he practically is. He has almost every super power and can bend the universe to his will. So technically, he isn't arrogant, just self aware. And so is Teruhashi. She is canonically beautiful, even Saiki said so himself, and with how so many guys love her, of course she'd know she's pretty. Much like Saiki, not arrogant, just self-aware. And they both don't use these things for anything morally bad, they just use it to their advantage because they can. They also both have creepy brothers, but uh... that's just both of them being cursed by something.

I hate when people depict Teruhashi as this super bratty mean girl and Saiki as someone who GENUINELY hates everyone !!

And also, ship what you want, just don't bash other ships !!

[darkjediqueen]

WIP Wednesday

I was sort of tagged by @mintedwitcher. This is for a little post 8.17 fic where Buck hits rock bottom and Tommy helps him pick up the pieces of the life he had.

I'm not tagging anyone because I don't like to do that but anyone who sees this can join in.

Story snippet under the cut.

Buck stood up to follow him as Father Brian escorted him through the back of the congregation hall and into the outside. There was a garden there. It was beautiful. There were benches all through it, but there at the center was a pair of chairs, and they faced each other. Father Brian sat down in one, and he waved for Buck to take the other.

"I had a man who came here for years. He never wanted to be in the confessional. He would come when he needed it, when he needed his sins absolved, when he needed to have a connection to something bigger. It was much more for a while, and then it slowed down, but I still saw him a lot. The time when he was at his worst was after one of his team members was nearly killed. I came to find it wasn't even the first, but it was after he had fully taken that firefighter on in his heart as his son."

Firefighter. Son. Buck looked at Father Brian because he knew what it meant. 

"I looked up that firefighter in the wake of that, the news that had been there about it. Bobby talked about his station all the time. I was there at his funeral that day, but I didn't seek anyone out. My grief over his death was so much less than anyone else's, but seeing you right now, I wish I had. He talked about you a lot, Buck. I didn't connect it until after you left the last time, after the small earthquake. This garden is almost always open during the daytime, unless I have someone else out there. Feel free to be here when you need. To say your words to the heavens to be close to a man you lost long before you ever should have." 

Father Brian stood up and laid his hand on Buck's shoulder, and then he was gone, leaving Buck in a place where he could feel Bobby sitting in front of him, where Bobby was connected to. 

Buck broke. He wasn't sure what he said or if he said anything at all. He just sobbed and held on for dear life as his world shattered around him because he couldn't be what Bobby needed him to be. He couldn't be there for his team because they didn't allow it. They refused to talk to him. They refused to do anything with him. He broke, and he came back together stronger. IF they didn't need him, he didn't need them. He would show up to work and give them the side of him they always wanted, the puppy, the ever loyal dog who never made them worry about him. He could be that person. 

When he was out of tears, Buck pulled out his cellphone. He was snotty as hell and would need to use the bathroom to clean up his face before he left, but he remembered where it was in the hall. 

"Go for Kinard," Tommy said.

[classica-meretrix]

Family Resemblance

pairing: percy jackson x aphrodite!reader genre: fluff content/warnings: reader isn't actually in this, just mentioned. piper and leo are here for plot, use of y/n, mentions of a quest summary: percy meets the goddess of love and notices a shocking family resemblance to one of his friends back home

"Let's get the girdle and get out of here," Percy huffed. "I don't want to stay any longer than we need to."

"Couldn't agree more," Piper muttered.

Percy led the way down the path, steering clear of as many tourists as they could. They were all dressed for the warm weather, buzzing about how excited they were to see the attraction, though they were all headed away from the beach. Percy trudged ahead, trying to not let it bother him.

The path opened out to a thin stretch of grey sand, completely empty despite the crowds they'd just passed. The water was a shimmering teal, lapping at the shore. A monstrous rock jutted out from the beach, surrounded my smaller clusters.

One rock however, stood out amongst the rest. It sat alone, maybe twenty feet from shore. It was darker than the others, and for the most part fairly round. Atop stood a woman in a long billowing dress, a train of white fluttering in the breeze. She faced away from them, facing the ocean. It might've just been the distance, but Percy couldn't quite figure out what she looked like.

By Piper's sigh, Percy was certain that was the goddess. Though it wouldn't have been hard to figure out. Even without being able to decipher her appearance and her facing away from them, he could still tell she was shocking beautiful.

"Wow," Leo said, his mouth agape. "So that must your mom."

"Yep." Piper didn't sound particularly happy to be here, her tone exasperated.

"Let's get this over with." Percy started towards the shore, Piper and Leo following. He had met the love goddess before, and it hadn't been the most pleasant experience. She had an affinity for meddling, and given the past few days, that was the last thing he needed.

Once they reached the shoreline they stopped, Piper and Leo each coming to flank Percy.

"Do you think she knows we're here?" Leo asked.

"Lady Aphrodite!" Percy called. The goddess didn't react. She looked like a statue, completely still besides her hair and dress floating behind her in the breeze.

"Mom!" Piper yelled into the wind. Nothing.

"Can we like... Throw something at her?" Leo suggested, eyeing up the baseball sized rocks along the beach.

"We can't hurl things at a goddess!" Piper protested, giving him a look of disbelief.

"We're going to have to swim." Percy stepped forward as he spoke, the waves lapping his shoes.

"Okay, fish boy. One problem. We aren't quite accustomed to the water," Leo reminded.

"The water's pretty choppy," Piper added.

"Trust me. I'll have the waves carry us."

"Whatever, man." Leo held his hands up in surrender, wading into the sea. The bright blue foamed around his ankles as it hit him.

Percy stepped further into the water, willing it to carry them forward. Piper let out a shocked squeal as the sea grabbed her, pulling her in. They were at the rock in no time, the waves even more pliable then usual, almost as if Aphrodite was pulling them towards her. But that was impossible, she had no control over the sea. Right?

The water threw them onto the stone, landing with harsh thuds. Leo groaned, pushing himself to his knees.

"You gotta work on that dismount, man."

"It wasn't me," Percy struggled out, trying to catch his breath as he stumbled to his feet.

The rock was plenty big enough for the four of them. Aphrodite stayed unmoving, watching the waves as if they weren't there.

"Uh... Is she okay?" Leo questioned. Piper had become eerily quiet, not looking at her mother.

"It's it beautiful?" The goddess finally spoke, her voice as rich as fresh honey. "I was born from the very seafoam that surrounds this rock. This water is the essence of love." Her voice was dreamy as she spoke, as if in a trance.

"Mom, we're here about—"

"The girdle," Aphrodite answered, turning around. Leo took a sharp gasp of air as she spun, clearly floored by his first impression of the goddess. Percy and Piper however kept their cool, having become somewhat accustomed to her beauty. "Yes, I know."

Aphrodite's form seemed to flicker, her hair changing colors, her features molding into one version after another, each more beautiful than the last. She settled quickly however, on a form similar to the one Percy had seen her in before, but this time something seemed... different.

He couldn't deny the family resemblance between the goddess and Y/N. They looked practically identical. Sure, there were hints of Piper in the facade, but only in the small details they shared.

"Well," Piper began. "Where is it?"

"Oh," Aphrodite sighed. "I'd love to give it to you, but I'm afraid it's in the water." She gazed out at the blue again, a forlorn look in her eyes. Percy had the urge to comfort her, tell her it'd be okay, dive into the water, anything

What was wrong with him?

"The water?" Piper questioned.

"Yes, I'm afraid Zeus wasn't too happy with me after Hera borrowed it again. Zeus caught on much quicker this time, and he wasn't too happy about it. As they say, all is fair in love and war."

Percy was only half listening, distracted by the way the goddess' eyes sparkled just the same as Y/N's, or how her hair fell just the same.

"I never noticed how much they look alike," he muttered, mostly to himself. Aphrodite turned to him, a warm, knowing smile on her face.

"What?" Leo asked, seemingly in his own trance.

"Y/N. I've never noticed how much she looks like her mother."

Leo's face screwed up. "What?" he repeated. "Not at all."

Percy turned to him confusion. How couldn't he see it? There was no missing the way they even moved the same.

Piper cleared her throat, regaining their attention. She stared down at the rock, a thick blush across her cheeks.

"This girdle?" she reminded.

"Yes, yes," Aphrodite said. "Why don't you—" She pointed to Percy. "—fetch my girdle, then maybe I can help you with your little problem." There was a twinkle in her eye, one he learned years ago not to trust when it was coming from the gods, but her words threw him off.

"What problem?"

The goddess only laughed, a light, melodic sound. "How sweet. You will find my girdle a mile out, but beware, it is closely guarded by a cetus."

"A what?" he asked.

"Go along now!" Her voice was cheerful, waving him past her. He walked to the edge of the rock, where she had been standing, casting a glance back towards his friends.

"As for you two," Aphrodite continued, with complete disregard for Percy. "How about some tea?"

[jklpopcorn]

crying and sobbing i was supposed to draw doodles of my ocs but instead all there is is Siffrin

they're so shaped i have to draw them

also

100% :)

[emilypemily]

critical role campaign 3 episode 76 is doing a very good job of summarising and explaining everything that's been happening for the last several episodes thank god because last episode i was truly lost and could not remember what they were doing and why at that point

[arolesbianism]

I Really need to properly draw Christopher at some point but everytime I want to I just look at her in game sprite and weep for her truest form has already been achieved. What's even the point. This is her in the flesh.

[anantaru]

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ jealous boys — love and deepspace

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

warnings. fem! reader, possessive tendencies, jealous boys, toxic, fingering, oral (male! receiving), oral (fem! receiving), good girl used, spit kink, mirror syx, this is so filthy lmao (especially sylus part)

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

zayne usually doesn't get angry when he's feeling the sudden dash of jealousy crush down on him— he gets calm, in fact, terrifyingly so.

not to mention that the moment he has you all to himself again he's fast on latching onto you with your back now hitting the wall with one of his hands by your head, the other already between your legs, skimming the flesh of your inner thigh with his cold knuckles, memorizing the place where your leg connects to your privates before you can react nor do something.

zayne doesn't say anything to you yet, instead his lips brush against yours once— soft and misleading before he bites down, hard, and before you knew it, your surprised gasp gave him permission for his tongue to fill your mouth like a sin made of salt and heat, in accessory to his fingers stroking your pussy so unbelievably dirty and cruel.

"you smiled at him, i saw it," he whispers against your lips, rubbing your folds as you make a blissful face, "what did he do to earn that?" zayne presses his fingers deeper between your legs as he watches you grind against them, jaw slacked in awe as you coat him with your slick.

"you know, i could fuck you right here," his voice drops, thick with restraint, "perhaps even in front of him, so he knows who you belong to," as his mouth descends again, this time trailing along your jaw, your neck and your collarbone as his sharp teeth tease the flesh with his fingers hooking into your doused panties.

"fuck, you're dripping baby, what are we gonna do about that, huh?" he hisses, his dangerous gaze on you practically glowing in the dark as he taunts your bare pussy like the way you've been making him jealous tonight.

"you like being fought over, don’t you?"

he licks the skin over your pulse before dipping a finger into your tight hole, slowly, menacing, your slick weeping out of your pussy with the slightest pressure, your hole parting for him ever so obediently— and zayne swears he saw the prettiest kind of stars behind your eyes when he slides another finger inside you, curling and owning your cunt, making your stomach turn weightless.

yet the kiss that follows next turned brutal with teeth and spit and groans as if he's feeding off you, imbedding all of his frustration into your frame as if your mouth was the only thing roping him to sanity.

"don't you ever do this again."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

before he even touches you, xavier's trembling— and without a doubt, you've said another man's name, and he's heard it, undoubtedly picked up on how you spelled it out.

so when he kisses you for the first time that night— it wasn't near anything sweet, beyond that was it unraveling, lips trembling and tongue somewhat clumsy and anxious, yet he remained deeply passionate, although wrecked, a moan building into every breath when he slants down one of his hands to squeeze your ass and part your thighs.

"who were you talking to? hm?" he whispers into your mouth before grinding down his groin against your clit, and then, again, more brokenness adds to his confused tone, "do you love me?" and when he says it, he lines himself up with your hole, and the feel of your pussy immediately squeezing and convulsing and claiming his dripping dick was enough to make him wince out your name.

his hips grind into yours harder and more despairing, "i need you," he sobs into your neck as you're feeling him rock himself thick and heavy inside your walls, "you can't leave me, you cannot."

his hands shake as they slide up your tits and at the same time, his mouth became frantic— tongue swallowing yours and teeth clacking, it's gotten so messy that spit began dripping down your chin when you moan his name into the kiss, fingers tangling in his hair and then he breaks— kissing you like he's dying, pounding you down like he's attempting to carve himself into your bones.

"say you're mine, come on," he begs you, his voice decaying into something crushing, velvet and low, the kind of softness that only existed in darkened bedrooms and godless prayers, "even if it's a lie baby, just tonight, say it, please."

and when you do— he sloppily sobs into your mouth with his hips stuttering within a deep thrust, swiftly lifting your legs onto his shoulders and holding onto them with ease as he continues to buck into you, never gentle, only desperate.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

in all aspects, rafayel's jealousy was much quieter than you originally thought it would be— as well as colder in a way which made your skin crawl.

you see, he doesn't shout at you, no— he seethes, and when he touches you, it's never rushed, instead it's intentional, dangerous, like he's punishing you with refusing to give you pleasure.

he crushes you against the mirror like he's trying to make you witness your own undoing, the glass beginning to fog and blur as he fucks your thighs— and with that, you see the curve of your mouth as it falls open, the helpless arch of your spine and behind you, his very eyes— half-lidded, ravenous, like he's not just watching but branding the image into eternity.

your reflection became a witness, a confessional, every noise you were making and every beg for him had to enter his mind fully— those desperate, broken sounds— etched into silver and silence as rafayel wasn't giving you what you wanted this time, his mind circling endlessly in shameful memory as he fucks his erection into the plush of your thighs, never once actually pressing inside your warm cunt to feel inside.

his mouth hovers over your neck before he bites down on it, "you touched his arm," he whispers, but it's not sweet, no, not reminding you of the rafayel you called your boyfriend— it's venom in silk, low and coaxing, the kind of voice that wrapped around your throat while pretending to cradle it, "do you want me to break it?"

then his tongue slides against your neck— long, smooth, calculated as his kiss was equal to liquid sin, measured in chaos before his hands cup the plush of your ass to spread you and finally press into your soaked cunt, balls deep like he's sculpting you into the shape of his length.

yet the man doesn’t grunt, he hums instead, like he's tasting expensive wine and it's in the way his eyes half-close from listening to your moans dragging low from your throat— like the feeling of you milking him was intoxicating enough to unmake his jealousy.

“tell me what he has that I don't," he drawls, teeth grazing your shoulder, "and i'll take it from him," as he bites down hard enough for your flesh to almost bleed before kissing the pulsing spot, dragging his erection till you felt hot and bred in your stomach, his hips making sinful smack, smack, smacks as your body tenses by itself.

you spell out his name, but it somehow felt even dirtier when you moan in, messier than before when you cry it out as he fucks you with a ferocity that knocks the air from your lungs.

"good girl," he purrs, happy with you, "now let me hear you scream."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

mouth wide, tongue deep, with hands rough around sylus's length as he yanks your head deeper into his lap like he's afraid someone will tear your pretty, hot mouth away. fuck, how much he adored seeing you in such position, between his thighs, gurgling on his dick and watching him from under your doused lashes.

"mine," he snarls from above, fingers intertwined in your hair as he helps you bob your head up n down up n down, "all mine."

your mouth sealed around his cock felt like a wildfire to him— smoking hot, a destruction only you could imbed on him— and sometimes it scared him, how much power you held for him to become so riled up when seeing you with another person.

your tongue circles around his cockhead and doesn't ask for permission to go faster, your mouth claiming the moans you sought after instead— and it seizes sylus, truly it bruises him and fuck, if he sees you with this man again, he cannot promise himself to hold back.

thick and flushed, his cock twitches in your mouth and presses right against your throat, aching when you moan against his girth, spit bubbling from your lips and clinging onto his skin when he lifts his hips up to thrust into your wet warmth, gripping the couch underneath him for balance.

it's all so messy and wet, and you loved it— drooling all over his dick and taking the punishment like a good girl, gurgling and sucking and slurping it all up as sylus could barely catch his breath, heaving from the exhilarating desire you imposed on him.

the tension coiled on his body— tight, ravenous— a mounting pressure that climbed like a hymn chanted through gritted teeth, blistering toward something supernatural as you look up at him again, tear stricken eyes and wet mouth sucking him oh so well.

it’s not release that he needed, no, or not yet at least, but the unbearable promise of it, the kind of high that felt less like pleasure and more like divine punishment delivered through trembling flesh, and when you hum around him at last, sylus can almost forget his jealousy there.

for a moment he stops you as his hand silently wraps around your throat, thumb dragging down your swollen, bottom lip so he can spit into your mouth— messily, filthy and possessive, he needs this, okay?

because sylus still found himself agonizingly mad.

"did he make you blush like this?" he mocks you from above, slanting down and licking into your mouth, "did he get you this wet?" as he moves his foot between your legs to rub his shoe against your wet cunt, the scent of your arousal whirling up to touch his nostrils.

his other hand grabs your head, pulling you down again while simultaneously grinding his foot against your pussy— fuck, you're so soaked it's audible, so embarrassingly obscene he could very well applaud himself for this.

and he groans, a sound pulled from his chest like agony when you take him inside your mouth again.

"you drive me insane," he pants, leaning his head back, "you should be locked away, kept for my eyes only."

he doesn't stop moving you off his cock, not once, your lips moving and working, your tongue claiming him until your knees ached and your pussy came all over his shoe, your chin sticky with cum and saliva and filth, eyebrows pulled together in concentration as he watches you fuck his cock with your throat.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

caleb spells out your name like it's a curse he never wanted to learn in the first place, and it kind of scared you a bit— teeth gritted and breathing harsh with his lips crashing into yours mid-sentence, bruising and unrelenting, his tongue pushing past yours like he's forcing himself inside— no space nor time for air, no room for a single thought, for denial.

his head moves between your thighs without restrain and now he feels you unravel in shivers and moans as the soft slap of his tongue on your pussy caught you off guard together with his palms cupping your breasts, his wet muscle lapping against your folds as they part for him obediently, licking between your cunt with sounds of slick noises echoing through the bedroom.

"you let him touch you? didn't you?" he rasps into your cunt, nosing your clit to take in your scent as he groans out filthily, his eyes lurching back into the hollow of his skull, not just in pleasure but in delirium— as if the taste of your pussy was something his body cannot withhold, "you think i didn't see it?"

he thrusts his tongue against you deeper, his cock hard and angry grinding into the mattress like he's punishing himself for letting anyone else near you, "i'll fucking ruin you for this," he growls, voice breaking, "with my fingers, my mouth, my cock— hell, over and over until you break,"

you moan when he lets you hear just how wet he's made you as he's slurping at you with insane hunger, his tongue ravishing your cunt and poking your hole over and over before dragging it up to lick between your folds again, collecting your slick on his lips an chin.

"is this for me? or for him?" tauntingly, Caleb never stopped playing with your pussy to hear a coherent answer form you, because you see, he already knows what you were about to say and he'll make you know as well, who you belong to.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

The Rain is Especially Loud Tonight

Synopsis: The Prefect gets hurt due to Crowley's negligence.

TW: Injury, Stitches, Medical Stuff, Prefect gets caught under a collapsed Ramshackle

Part 1 (here), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (coming soon), . . .

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The room would be completely silent were it not for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

The environment was more comfortable than your usual medical setting, but it still felt cold in a way.

The door creaked open and in stepped professor Crewel. "Hey, Pup." His voice lacked its usual stern tone one would hear in the classroom; instead, his voice was gentle and almost hoarse.

The hoarseness was no doubt a result of him screaming at the headmage in a roar you shiver even recalling. He had spent hours tearing into the man for his gross negligence and irresponsibility.

"Pup?" His voice became more worried when you failed to answer.

"Sorry." A meek, rasped voice leaves you throat. Your throat burns with dryness despite the 6 glasses of water you already drank, and it feels like every syllable echoes through your head and causes an intense, throbbing pain. You don't recognize the voice that claws its way out of your throat as your own.

You hear the soft scrape of a chair on the floor next to your bed. "No. Don't apologize, Pup." Rocking your gaze slowly over to him its clear to you, with the way his jaw clenches and unclenches while his eyes search the blanket covering you, that he wants to say something, but isn't sure what.

You slowly rock your head to look forward again. "Everyone's been in such a panic. . .and it's my fault, I-"

The man cuts you off as you choke on your words: "Pup. This is not your fault."

"But-" Your throat feels like its been given a massage with a thousand razor blades. The coughing your attempts to speak cause only make the pain worse.

Crewel quickly grabs another glass of water and holds it up to your lips for you to drink. "But nothing, Pup- Keep those arms down or you'll re-open the wounds. That old building was bound to collapse at some point. We all knew it. If the fault is on anyone it's on us staff. Crowley made you stay there, and we didn't stop him." The glass cup clinks slightly too harshly onto the nightstand as he sets it down.

Silence falls between the two of you.

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The ticking of the clock numbs your thoughts. You force your mind to stop focusing on the pain radiating from every inch of your body and instead listen to the steady ticking of the clock. The only other sound that can be herd is the occasional hurried footsteps outside the door as the other staff do their best to take care of the situation.

Your injuries have already been treated by a specialty team sent from STYX the moment the news got to them. They were the only ones aside from Grim, Leona, and the staff that had seen your mangled form before you were wrapped up like a mummy. You didn't have to ask how bad it was. Seeing Crowley throw up at the sight of you was enough to tell you it was bad.

The STYX team had spent nearly a whole 24 hours stitching you back together like some ragdoll and rearranging the many pieces of you that had been ripped and jostled out of place. If not for them. . .well, you don't want to think about it. If you looked like a mummy on the outside, you were sure that under the bandages you looked like Frankenstein's monster. There really wasn't a single bit of you that got out of that death trap unscathed.

You were kept in the school infirmary instead of being carted off to some high-tech STYX facility only because they needed to operate on you as soon as possible and didn't want to move you too much after the initial procedures. They made do by shipping a ton (literally speaking, more like 3 tons) of medical equipment to the school, most of which was now littered around the infirmary in a rushed yet professional way.

Despite your closeness to your friends, the only people who had come to see you were the staff. It's not that none of your friends wanted to see you, but that they weren't allowed to. The doctor's worried having them in so soon, when they were still full of hysteria from the news, wouldn't be the best idea. They weren't able to text you either as your phone had been crushed in the collapse.

"How's Grim?"

Professor Crewel hums: "Physically, he's pretty unscathed. He just has a few scrapes and bruises. Mentally, he's a bit traumatized."

You supposed that made sense. You didn't remember much, but what you did remember was Grim's voice. He had been returning to the dorm from after school detention when he found the building in shambles on the ground. He called out to you but your lungs were filled with debris and your torso was being crushed by layers of rubble. The dorm ghosts met Grim at the edge of the junk pile that used to be a dorm and confirmed that you were inside and that you needed help. The ghosts talked to you as you laid there, not being able to physically move anything off you themselves. They kept you awake and assured you that Grim was getting help.

Not long later you heard shouting. Two of the ghosts stayed with you while the third went out to meet the staff and fill them in. You were told after the fact that that's about the time they called up Leona to use his unique magic so they could get you out as soon as possible (that was the first time many saw the lion run).

You were blanking in and out of consciousness when they found you, but you remember them finding you. The feeling of the weight of the rubble lessening as it was methodically turned to sand and removed (in order to not end up crushing you with sand instead), the small grains dripping on your face, and eventually, the full force of the pouring rain battering your face as the last of the rubble was removed from above you. You remember Leona's manic eyes turning horrified, Crowley puking, and worst of all, Grim's face.

"STYX sent over a few trauma counselors. There are ones assigned specifically to Leona and Grim as well since they saw some of the worst of it." Crewel finally broke the silence again.

"And you? You and. . .the other teachers were there too. . .and Sam."

"Calm down, Pup. We've all had evaluations done to assess how we're handling it. We'll be fine.

"What about. . ." Your voice trails off, but from the look in your eyes, Crewel can tell what you were about to ask.

"What about the headmage?"

You nod, wincing slightly when the motion disturbs an injury on your neck.

"He's under investigation." Crewel responds after a brief pause. He knew that you surely couldn't be all that fond of the crow, but as you saw it, he was probably also your only ticket home. Crewel looked up to gauge your response, but your face remained neutral.

"And you, Pup? I obviously know you aren't doing particularly well physically right now, but what about mentally?"

"Hm?"

Crewel hesitated, not wanting to dig around in a mental wound and make it worse, "You were. . .under there for a while. I'm sure it must've been. . .scary."

You think for a moment before responding: "Was I really under there that long? It didn't feel like it. . .I think I passed out a few times." Your mumbled words put Crewel at ease in a way. He's not happy that you had been passing out, but he was at least glad that you weren't stuck under there fully conscious and feeling every second tick by as if it were an hour.

"Hmm. I see." Crewel nods. "I ought to let you rest now. A counselor will stop by tomorrow to talk to you about what happened." He stands up as he says this, his knuckles still white from how tightly he'd been gripping the fabric of his pants. "Rest well, Pup."

You simply nod, this time more carefully as to not disturb your wounds, and watch him walk out. When the door closes you swear you hear a choked sob.

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