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barnesafterglow · 1 year

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uncontrollable

summary: the rising tension with bucky comes to a head

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: literally all smut no plot (minors dni) [oral (f receiving), unprotected sex]

a/n: um hey

main masterlist | @theafterglowlibrary

Grunts filled the air, even through the music of your headphones, and you turned the volume up louder. Two minutes left in your plank, then you would reward yourself with a peek. Your arms shook as the time counted down, and you finally collapsed on your stomach, panting at the exertion.

Forcing yourself up on your knees, you granted yourself the pleasure of looking towards the other side of the gym. At the only other person there.

The sight you were greeted with was glorious: your neighbor, Bucky, working out, sweat staining his grey t-shirt and the rippling muscles of his back. He must have sensed your stare, because his eyes met yours in the floor to ceiling mirror, a small smirk playing on his lips. You quickly averted your eyes, picking yourself up and making your way to the small counter on the other side of the room.

You made a point to turn your back towards him, grabbing a water from the mini fridge and indulging in the cool feel of it sliding down your throat.

The two of you had been playing at this game for weeks now. Your schedules seemed to line up to where you were the only people in the apartment’s private gym at the late hour; you circled each other, sweaty and ridiculous, and the tension had been slowly mounting.

You were dragged from your thoughts as a pair of hands gripped your waist, and instinctively you brought your elbow back into Bucky’s abdomen.

Ripping your headphones from your ears, you spun around to see him half bent over, laughing between wheezes.

“What the fuck, Barnes,” you hissed. “Don’t just sneak up on me like that.”

“If you didn’t have your music turned up so damn loud, you would have heard me calling your name. And walking over here. And then snapping my fingers to try to get your attention.” He finally stood upright, still rubbing his stomach from your hit. “This was just a last resort.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the counter.

“Well? Did you need something?”

“I was just going to tell you that your planks looked good today. Who knew it was such an offense to compliment a lady.”

“I pay an exorbitant amount of money here to not get solicited at the gym, Barnes.”

He threw his head back laughing, and your eyes followed the line of sweat that trailed down his throat. You snapped back to reality when he held up his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”

It was then you realized how close he was, practically enough to have you pressed against the counter, and your breath hitched.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” The faux concern in his voice had your gut turning. “You seem a little flushed.”

“I just finished a workout, asshole,” you retorted, even though you both knew the heat rising to your cheeks was from anything but that.

His arms came around to cage you against the counter, his nose skimming your temple as he whispered, “When are we finally going to stop dancing around this?”

“Right now,” you whispered back before crashing your mouth to his.

He responded immediately, hands gripping your waist and setting you on the counter, and your legs automatically wrapped around him. You could already feel the hardness there as he pushed against you. Your hands gripped his hair, angling his head so he pressed kisses to your neck, moving down your chest to where your sports bra stopped him in his tracks. He pulled away long enough to discard the material before his mouth was back on you, mouthing at the swell of your breasts then taking a nipple in his mouth.

“Fuck, Bucky. Just like that.” He hummed his agreement and the sensation shot through you, making your legs tighten around him. He moved to your other nipple, hands busy as they tugged on the waistband of your leggings, but you stopped him, pushing his head back. The confusion and longing on his face might have been cute if you weren’t so desperate to strip him down. You pushed up his shirt until he got the hint, dropping it to the floor, and holy fuck.

Abs upon abs upon abs. You didn’t think you had ever seen anybody so ripped before, and your hands automatically went to touch him, to get his pants off and get another peek, but he stopped you, tsking at your desperation.

“Let me have my fun first, sweetheart.”

With that, he dropped to his knees, finally reaching his goal of getting your pants off, and groaned when he realized you weren’t wearing any underwear. Not wasting a second, he spread your legs, propping one up on the counter so you were bared to him, and placed teasing kisses along each thigh, alternating until he was so close to your core you could feel the puffs of breath coming from him.

You had a smartass retort on the tip of your tongue when he finally gave you what you wanted, latching his mouth on your clit and sucking until you threw your head back. You bit your lip to keep your moans contained, panting through your nose, as he continued his assault on your core. Each stroke of his tongue was a symphony of sensation and you knew you wouldn’t last long if he kept it up. That didn’t seem to matter to Bucky, though, because as he slipped two fingers into you, stars exploded behind your eyes and your entire body clenched, hips bucking up to meet his mouth.

He let you ride out your orgasm in his tongue and fingers, and didn’t pull away until you finally stopped twitching. Coming back to your senses, you hauled him up to your mouth again, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips.

Without any resistance from him, you pushed his sweatpants and underwear down to his knees, pulling him close enough that his length brushed against your still sensitive core. You moaned into each other’s mouths as he thrust his hips, his cock brushing against your clit with every movement, until he finally slid into you.

This time, there was no stopping the noises that came from you. As he slid home, he brushed that sweet spot that had you rolling your eyes back, and each thrust hit it again and again until you were clenching around him.

You were determined to hold out, but your orgasm overtook you once his hand reached between your bodies to rub your clit, and he prolonged it by continuing his assault on your bud, until he finally spilled into you.

The two of you stayed like that, bodies connected, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, until he finally pulled away, reaching for a towel that lay on the counter and crouched down to clean you up.

“Such a gentleman,” you quipped, though your voice was still shaking. “All this and you couldn’t even take me to dinner first.”

“Does take-out on your couch not count as dinner?” he responded, and you both laughed. “Seriously, though, let me take you out.”

The air turned serious as you both pulled your clothes on, not looking at each other. Finally, once you felt less bare, your eyes met his.

“You mean this wasn’t just a release of tension?” This time you kept your voice steady. “You really want to take me on a date?”

“Hell yes,” he responded, before pulling you in for another kiss.

#tiff writes #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #uncontrollable

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turtleplushi · 11 months

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I still really like Frog Wild. I think it's a neat episode.

But what if Meta Knight

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theragethatisdesire · 9 months

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hello!! 🥰 could i please get #359??

i literally do not care who it's with, i trust you to give us a tasty meal 😫 go nuts bb

hiiiii tiff <3 so i'm gonna modify this one a bit to be more in line with my personal writing style but like....why is this screaming gojo to me...and to think i'm so afraid of writing him but i think it's unavoidable here ...

359. "So desperate for it, aren't you? If you want it so bad, you'd better take it then."

nsfw under the cut per usual

Gojo Satoru is the Strongest.

This is a sometimes annoying, sometimes relieving, always indisputable fact, one which he never tires of reminding you. Usually when he says it, it's in reference to curses or cursed energy. On occasion, he's referencing a drunken arm-wrestling competition or a punching-bag-machine you stumbled across in a bar that he couldn't resist winning just for the hell of it, he's an asshole like that.

When you're the girlfriend of the Strongest, it's easy to feel lesser than. Sharing a bed and a goodnight kiss every night with the closest human equivalent to a god can be taxing on the insecure little part of your brain.

Satoru does what he can to alleviate the toll his teasing and status take on you, from showering you with compliments to being as much of a sweetheart as he is a menace (and that's saying something). But when you're behind the closed doors of your bedroom, spread out before him and panting, Satoru loves to remind just how unequal the playing ground you're both on is.

"So messy," Satoru hums, dragging two long fingers through the slick folds between your legs. He loves having you like this, bare before him with your legs spread while he stays fully clothed, chastising you.

"Satoru," you beg, canting your hips up towards him, seeking the touch that he's suddenly become so stingy with.

"Watch it," Satoru snaps, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses, "thought you were going to be good, what happened to that?"

"I-I'm tryin'," you whimper, curling in on yourself in the face of his disdain. Satoru loves when you misbehave, you know that realistically, but here, in the heat of the moment, the threat of his ever-creative punishments has you squirming.

"Could have fooled me," Satoru says with a disappointed tut, pulling you to your feet and sitting on the edge of the bed. You stand between his legs, watching him curiously, until he pats his thigh, a criminally smooth smile gracing his face.

"Sit?" You go to sit across his legs, but Satoru all but shoves you back to your feet, frowning.

"Sit," Satoru says with a note of implication, gesturing to his muscled thigh again. You catch his meaning, frowning.

"But your pants-"

"But nothing. If you want it so bad, you'd better take it while you have the chance. You know how moody I can be," Satoru lowers his glasses to smirk at you, menacing and cruel.

You straddle his thigh without another thought, the threat behind his words ringing in your ear. The friction from the rough fabric of his slacks is an instant relief against your pulsing core; you shudder as soon as your hot, sticky cunt makes contact with the cool cloth. You tentatively roll your hips once, twice, a broken moan falling out of you.

"There you go," Satoru says, saccharinely sweet, "that better?"

"A- a little," you admit, eyes rolling back in your head as you begin to grind down onto him harder, already having been teased to the point of breaking.

It's shameful, really, how wantonly you moan for him, how quickly you manage to stain his pants, how harshly your fingernails are digging into his shoulders. Satoru watches you, the faintest hint of amusement on his face, and if you were just a tad less fucked out, you would consider smacking him.

But not now, no. Not when you're so close to the release you've been aching for for the last hour, not when your thighs are beginning to shake with the effort of getting yourself off, not when Satoru lands a harsh hand on your hip, dragging you against him harder.

"Sa-Satoru!" you gasp, choking on the syllables of his name, "please, please-"

"So desperate for it, aren't you?" Satoru chuckles, pinching your cheek. "I've barely even touched you pet, how are you this needy already?"

"P-please, I just- so close," you whine, recognizing all too well the chiding tone, the easy cockiness that suits him so well. He's already made himself busy edging you all night, surely he won't-

"Aw," Satoru pouts at your cry of frustration, "something wrong?"

You fruitlessly roll your hips against the cold, unyielding barrier of Satoru's infinity, unreal and unsatisfying beneath your needy cunt. You glare at him through hooded eyes, chest still heaving.

"You're so-"

"Mean? Is that really what you want to call me right now?" The amused sparkle behind Satoru's glasses glimmers out into a look of cold cruelty.

"No, I-"

"Think I'm not going to make you cum?" Satoru tosses you off onto your back, hovering over you with something dangerous and dark playing on his face. "What, are you going to tell me I can't play with my little pet anymore? Can't take it?"

"No," you feel your bottom lip tremble.

"Am I too much for you? If you can't take my games, baby, I don't know how you're going to take everything else I want to give you."

"No, I can- I can take it," you grab at his shirt desperately, eyes shining, "I need it- please, Satoru."

"Sh sh sh," Satoru shushes you, pinching at your cheek, "pathetic little thing, aren't you? So needy for me."

"Mhm," you hum, canting your hips up towards the thigh he slots between your legs, "I just need you, please, Satoru-"

"That's right," Satoru smiles down at you, a tender thumb rubbing over your lips, "just me, right? I'm the only one that can get you this fucked out."

"Just you," you whimper pitifully, trying to roll your hips up into him to no avail.

"That's what I like to hear," Satoru hisses, the first break in his composure all night, "all for me."

#sorry it took me forever to finish this tiff #you fell victim to my writing drought sadly #BUT HERE SHE IS #i hope it's not too rough #again gojo terrifies me but it just fit him SO WELL i had to #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #rage.rambles #ask games

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spiteless-xo · 1 year

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╰┈➤ the boys at school. [completed] ⋙ You start to get back out into the dating world and find yourself overwhelmed with options. Not only does Porco Galliard, the star player of the school's hockey team want to get in your pants, but Jean Kirstein, the Captain of the rival team seems to be in love with you, AND Zeke Jaeger, your ex-boyfriend wants to get back together! How will figure out who really cares for you and who's taking advantage of you without self-sabotaging?

ft. jean/reader, porco/reader, zeke/reader cw. explicit content - minors do not interact, fem!reader, smut, alternate universe - college/university, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex, phone sex, dubious consent, multiple orgasms, multiple partners, multiple sex positions, cum swallowing, blow jobs, cumplay, creampie, mention of canonical character death, manipulative/borderline abusive relationship, cheating, porn with plot, mild hurt/comfort, dirty talk, power imbalance, no use of y/n, second person POV an. all of these links will take you to their AO3 page. there are content warnings at the beginning of every chapter. zeke is a manipulative/borderline abuse mf-er in this fic so please be wary of that before reading

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay over?” he asks. The two of you sit next to each other on the cold metal of the bench, but he grabs your legs and swings them up onto his lap.

You allow yourself to cuddle a little closer to him, pressing your face into his chest. You can definitely tell you’re drunk by the way you’re falling into his arms, desperate for him to hold you after all of those teasing touches at the pub. “No, I have to get home,” you say, although it pains you.

He starts to rub small circles on your back with one hand while he rubs up and down the length of your leg with the other. “It’s cold out here,” he says. You look up at him with a hazy head, meeting his still bright and intense golden eyes with your own.

01. Meeting the Warriors

Your roommate is childhood friends with a few of the players on the school's hockey team, so she invites you to go to a party with her after the game.

02. Waiting for the Bus

You go for drinks at the school pub after studying in the library with some friends and Porco walks you to the bus stop.

03. Your Ex-Boyfriend

You run into your ex-boyfriend after class and he takes you out on a date. Your roommate isn't pleased with your budding relationship with Porco.

04. Meeting the Scouts

After another hockey game, you go to the after-party and meet a few players on the rival team and Porco gets jealous.

05. Alone with Porco (e)

Porco helps relieve some of the sexual tension.

06. Helping Zeke (e)

Zeke asks for your opinion on his new lesson plan and you succumb to old habits.

07. First Date

Jean takes you out for coffee.

08. Facetiming Porco (e)

Porco calls you late at night.

09. Zeke's Office (e)

Zeke finds out you've been hooking up with other guys and decides to punish you.

10. Cooking with Jean (e)

Jean comes over to make lunch but the two of you get... distracted.

11. Halloween with Porco (e)

Porco convinces you to come home with him before you make things official with Jean

12. Marcel

Annie opens up about some trauma.

13. Warriors vs. Scouts

Jean and Porco face each other on the ice and your secret comes out.

14. Friends without Benefits

Annie confronts Zeke and Porco opens up about some trauma.

15. Movie Night

Jean visits you at school and Porco comes over to watch movies.

16. Porco Galliard (e)

You reflect on your relationships with the boys from school and Porco has some feelings.

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veveisveryuncool · 8 months

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starving artist episode was a banger i need 20 more

kirbytober day 20: castle/fav episode

#is this late? yes but its my birthday so i get a pass #dear ibis filters i love you #they saved this piece btw #i promise next one will be cooler #this episode was so crazy actually. you could tell this was a vent for the animation team #and accurately depicts how hard it is to animate #“oh this animation was bad i could do better” THEN DO IT. FIND A DECENT SOFTWARE AND WRITE A STORYBOARD AND DRAW THE SAME THING OVER AND OVE #WHILE KEEPING THE SIZE CONSISTENT AND LINES SMOOTH AND LIPSYNC IN CHECK AND 5MILLION OTHER THINGS. DO IT.#all animation is the work of god and you will appreciate all of it.#kirby series #kirby #tiff kirby #fumu kirby #krbay #veves ultra cool art #kirbytober #kirbytober2023

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zaphiyy207 · 8 months

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Essence of Dreams

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Summary:

In which Meta Knight tried to solve FNAF lore in one day, ft. Kirby trying to explain his source. (Not clickbait) Spoilers, the theory went unfinished

(It's almost 2 months since chapter 2, I am in shambles. Next update will be much later but I promise it'll be lengthier.)

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cali-kabi · 1 year

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~ Chapter 1: Galacta Knight’s Arrival to Popstar pages 26-34✨💫

~ >PREVIOUS PAGE✨ ~ <NEXT CHAPTER💫 here are the last pages of Chapter 1 :D✨I had so much fun with the backgrounds in this and the shading as well. <3💜💫Meta Knight explains to Galacta about why he keeps his wings hidden, and asks if he can hold one of Galacta’s heart spears his response was NO!💢xD he asks how they work with Kirby but he acts like he doesn’t know a thing cuz he doesn’t want Meta interested into those.. Oh and my past design of Falspar he has green eyes because he’s wearing a different mask and wears sharper metal gloves. Chapter 2 pages will be uploaded sometime later this month, I’m gonna work on some other art and some anniversary art for a friend of mine <3💙and I’m still in the progress of writing Chapter 3 (writing of 2 is done though) I’ve just got some writers block ;w; anyways I hope y’all like this ^^💖💕

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smileysvech · 3 months

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hi lovely!! i hope you’re having a beautiful saturday. do you happen to have any fic recs for sway? thank youuu xx

ps— i gotta say this is all your fault 🫣

hi I hope you’re having a wonderful weekend too!

most of these are shorter blurbs but still great reads!

welcome home, baby by @barzysunflower (smut, so 18+)

mama bear by @cellythefloshie (smut, so 18+)

I can’t imagine being anywhere else by @senditcolton

long time coming by @sc0tters

honestly there aren’t a ton of sway fics out there which is what led me to writing these headcanons about him in the first place lol so if anyone else has some recs i’d love to check them out!

#and if any fic writer feels so inclined to write more sway fics I would not complain in the slightest 👀🤭#I will take it upon myself to keep the sway train alive with my moodboards but I cannot write fic 😔#asks #a-perfct-stranger #tiff’s fic recs

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crimsonrainsoughtstrawberry · 8 months

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guys remember when I said I was finally going to start reading SVSSS? Well I did and I finished and now the post novel blues are making me wanna cry! I can't even begin to put into words how much I love Luo Binghe as a character. Not only did he immediately invoke these feelings of nurturing in me but also the NEED to love and protect him at all cost!!! I get the hype now!!! I GET IT!!!

#tiff is talking #tiff is reading #post novel blues #svsss #Luo Binghe #Shen Qingqiu #bingqiu #BINGQIU CAN ABSOLUTELY OCCUPY SPACE IN MY DOME RENT FREE NOW #I enjoyed the story so much #the ever changing tone and the way it made fun of itself was A+#honestly I want more moshang though!!!#I also wanted her to write those 2 having pleasurable sex minus the focus on pain 😅

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tiffanytheweirdo · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Purple Hearts (2022) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Luke Morrow/Cassie Salazar Characters: Luke Morrow, Cassie Salazar, Peaches Additional Tags: Future Fic, Caretaking, Soft Luke Morrow, Soft Cassie Salazar, It's a little OOC but i don't care, The start of my project to finish up my WIPs Summary:

Cassie skipped lunch for the sake of finishing her new song but oops she did it again and her body was not liking her. *insert worried husband Luke to the rescue*

#cassie x luke #purple hearts #fanfic #tiff writings #project WIPs 2023

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barnesafterglow · 1 month

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night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become.

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha.

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then.

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

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duchessdepolignaca03 · 3 months

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WIP Wednesday (Thursday AM)

I was a bit migraine-y today and fell asleep with the baby. And now I am awake, and having a bit of what I call the post-migraine flurry of productiveness that will lead to me going back to sleep at 5-6am, getting up an hour later for work and having a completely unproductive day!

Thank you for the tags @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @sparklepocalypse @onthewaytosomewhere @piratefalls @firenati0n @tailsbeth-writes and @orchidscript.

Here's my very delayed WIP Wednesday, posted on Thursday morning (per tradition). TBH I haven't been feeling good about my writing lately, or a lot of things because the brain is a bastard.

Another snippet from my latest WIP, which is a shameless bodice-ripper: Horny Housewife Henry (feat. mpreg, obtuse and willfully dumb characters making historically poor choices). Still untitled, still vaguely historical in feeling. I'm trying something new, okay? Or semi-new.

There are many signifiers of Henry’s nobility and his importance, aside from his speech and his pale, elegant countenance. He is wearing a riding habit in a rich green colour, and while it’s plain for his errand in the rocky, boggy moor, relative to the more restrictive fashion he would wear in court, it marks him as the possession of a man of great wealth and importance. The storm in the man’s clever eyes tells Henry that he is well-aware of the danger and foolishness in engaging with him in such a forward, affectionate and fervent manner, and that he knows these are warning signs he should heed. Henry feels the anticipatory sting of rejection, building into a visceral feeling of desperate suffocation, invisible hands constricting his throat, the weight of his circumscribed life crashing into him like a great wave. The man gives Henry his daring answer by taking his face in his hands, pressing his mouth to Henry’s in an unexpected but much desired kiss. Henry’s mouth, already slightly agape, opens further to let in his lover’s questing tongue. Henry rises to the tips of his toes as his arms loop around the man’s shoulder, as he hungrily returns the searing kiss. The man breathes air directly into Henry’s lungs, and Henry feelsy as though he has ascended to heaven, while never more feeling so alive.

Not tagging anyone, because it is VERY LATE.

#rwrb wips #mywips #wip wednesday #tiff tries to write a bodice ripper #red white and royal blue #henry and alex #rwrb fanfic #rwrb #firstprince #rwrbbodiceripper #rwrb au

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turtleplushi · 2 years

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hey what if meta just took off all his armor one day and walked around cappy town with everyone staring at him like

#meta knight #kirby right back at ya #tiff kirby #fumu kirby #fumu #tuff kirby #kirby #hoshi no kaabii #SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE THIS I BEG OF YOU #txt post #this looks awful but bhfbrkdsnf its fine

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razzberrydazz · 24 days

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Fuck it time to write exposition ramblings about my ocs via tumblr post read more. Starting with my girl Tiffany of course.

The royal portrait gallery, hall of ancestors

The Queen paced up and down the stone flooring in the hall of ancestors, brow furrowed with thought. Her echoing steps carry the weight of her conscience as each portrait on the wall regards her with impassive stares. The eyes follow. Each family portrait, each painting of monarchs past, each near identical face of Tiffany's predecessors judge her with their piercing pink eyes and stoic faces. Looking back at the portrait of her mother, her mother's mother, all the way back to the founder of their family, it's like looking into a cruel mirror of herself.

She knows that it's simply easier to stay stoic and rigid when posing for their family portraits; hours spent sitting or standing there for the painter takes a toll on the body. And yet, when it was her turn to pose for the royal portraitist, Tiff chose a pleasant expression. Though her clothing clung heavy on her body, and her cheeks creaked with pain from holding a grin, and her eyelids grew heavy, she pushed through so that her own portrait in the hall of ancestors would stand out from the rest.

Her footsteps stop in front of her own portrait, that playful gaze from the painting beckoning her to press on. It gives her hope. The paint is still drying, the oils take days and even weeks to fully cure, and so the glint in her portrait's eyes shine with a wetness not seen in the other figures. Seeing that she can still pull a smile onto her face, after all she's been through, it encourages her. There's still hope for the future.

The grim gaze of the dynasty's founder judges her from the other end of the hall. Atlantea, the first of the Mereign line, their universal ancestor, depicted in both painting and wall-spanning mosaic. Much history of their founder has been lost through the ages.

The family jinx, originally a decree from Atlantea that her descendants with her eyes would be worthy to rule, was taken to mean only those that look most like Atlantea should be heir to the throne. And thusly each portrait of monarchs past seem almost like clones of each other. A single stern face with piercing pink eyes has been passed down generation to generation. Practically a family tradition in itself to look like a mirror image of generations past. The things to change over the ages are the fashions and hairstyles, and their family creat warped a little more over each generation.

Staring at the mosaic of Atlantea now, Tiff reaches up to trace the tattoo of the family crest etched into her face. Her own crest misses several elements of the original design. It used to have markings on the chin, on the ears, on the neck. They got their crests as coming of age ceremonies. Their mother - or mother figure - applied the crest to their daughter from memory by referencing their own crest. An intergenerational game of telephone etched in heartstone-laced tattoo ink to each face meant to wear the crown. Tiff will have to do so with her own children one day, when they come of age. They'll need weeks, perhaps months of preparation, to do it properly.

Oh how she wishes she got the chance to do it properly with her own mother. Wishes she had the time to grow up, and have her own mom apply it, after having practiced the technique for months beforehand. But that's not how it happened, is it. No, it had to be rushed. Her mother murdered, assassinated, and only days of preparation made instead of the usual weeks of practice before the crest-giving ceremony. Given not by her mother, not even by a blooded relative, but by her godmother, a dragon, who barely had three days to practice the crest application technique before she was dipping the needle into the glowing blue heartstone ink to press into Tiffany's teenaged face. She forgot the ear elements, the chin, the neck. Only the forehead, cheeks, and nose made it into the design etched into Tiff's face.

Less than a week to prepare, and her godmother Cola pressed the needle too deep. Surely her very muscles under the skin were etched with the radioactive ink as well. The process was very painful, but little Tiff tried her damndest not to cry.

In vain, the tears still fell down her cheeks, but she remained still through the ceremony so as to not ruin the crest. Ink and blue blood ran down her face and mixed with the tears.

Nowhere near old enough for a proper coming of age ceremony, but to take the throne she must have her crest, as tradition demanded. Fruitless contrived traditions started by people who misunderstood their founder's decrees.

It's not like they knew how dangerous the heartstone was at the time, they had no idea what radiation was yet. And now she has chronic migraines and thinning hair to show for it. Taking it as a painkiller was the worst decision in her life, and she's not even the one who made it. Her father told her to take it, claimed it was from the royal physician. It wasn't, after all, but by then it was too late. Glad that bastard's dead and gone. But then why does he still plague her thoughts?

Sigh

Tiffany's wives tell her she dwells on the pain of the past too much. She dwells on the wrongs of the past, or the anxieties of the future, never in the present where she stands. Head stuck in the clouds, and the clouds roil with thunder.

Another set of footsteps enter the hall, echoing towards her. The sound brings her out of her ruminating.

"Tiff dear? Are you brooding in here again?"

Tiff turns to face her knightly wife, and forces a pained smile. It doesn't quite make it to her eyes, that shine just as wetly as the portrait on the wall beside her. Even with the smile in the painting, her eyes look so sad, both in depiction and reality.

"Alas, I have. You know me, always dwelling on the past, holding onto strings better left to fray. I simply wonder, what things would be like if they had gone differently."

"We cannot change what has already happened, not without grave consequences. Time marches forward, and so should we."

Tiff's wife Cassandra steps close to her, and offers a hand to lead her out of the hall of faces and bad memories. With one last glance at the ancient Atlantean mosaic, she takes her hand, and lets herself be led back to more pleasant company than the judgmental faces of her ancestors.

Even without that mosaic's eyes following her, she feels watched by the eyes of her ancestors. Sometimes it feels like Atlantea herself is staring over her shoulder, wishing she could have made a better decision. Perhaps she is, somehow.

Somewhere, Atlantea mutters 'I killed our goddess once, and you dared to bring her back to life. Did you never think to consider why she died in the first place? Some things are better off dead, and yet here you live.'

Somehow Tiff can hear her muttering, in the back of her mind.

#razz rambles #lore musings #oc lore #tiffany mereign #oc writing #razz writes #tiff my beloved #I love hurting her #love clenching her in my teeth and shaking her around like a ragdoll #giving her aaaaall the trauma #angst

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patchodraws · 7 hours

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Ya see, Mac Coyle was supposed to die at 16.

The cancer had rendered her nearly immobile, done such a massive fucking number on her brain that she could hardly count to ten anymore. Half the time, her veins were pumping painkillers instead of blood through her body. She’d been made a husk of the fiery, fierce girl she’d so bravely decided to be for the past five years.

A week later, when KJ went in to check up on her, she was gone. Her heart had plummeted in that instant, any semblance of warmth in her body disintegrated by the painfully unsudden shock of Max finally being gone — and it had all been undone, replaced, moments later when the nurse told her she’d been sent him after a literally miraculous recovery.

Mac had kept quiet about the whole affair when she met her for milkshakes the next afternoon. Completely barring KJ’s hurt that her supposed best friend — the girl she’d spent the last three years pining after all while knowing more and more that she could never have — couldn’t even phone her up to tell her she’d been released, Mac seemed distracted. Distant. Unfocused. KJ had to remind her to even drink her shake every now and then, as opposed to every other time when she’d have to playfully reprimand her for stealing sips when she’d though KJ wasn’t looking.

“I wish I could tell you,” Mac had said as if her seemingly magical recovery wasn’t beyond all reason, “but I’m back now. I’m better. Cancer’s gone.”

“And you never said anything because…?”

KJ’s question had gone unanswered all night. Mac deflected her inquiries, or got notably short with the prodding, and managed to entirely silence KJ into confused and bitter acceptance that her best friend was alive, and she was never going to know why.

The silent they’d stewed in lasted until sundown, and it had done its work grinding KJ’s patience down to dust. Mac hadn’t even half finished her shake by the time KJ stood up and, with a betrayed scowl damming any scathing, choice words, strode back to her car—

And that was when it attacked.

It, because KJ had absolutely no clue what to call that thing, other than definitively not human. Some part of her mind, quiet and distant, seemed to want to ping in recognition of it, but a second glance at the twisted mockery of a young woman with burning yellow eyes tamped down on that thought in an instant. Whatever she was facing, she’d never seen anything like it, and as it approached with bared fangs and a bestial snarl, she feared it might actually be the last thing she saw.

Instead, what she saw was the woman go stiff, accompanied by the sound of flesh being pierced and bone being split; a second later, and she was gone, blown into the evening wind as dust, revealing in her place Mac.

KJ panted in panic, in shock, in disbelief, as Mac flipped a pointed wooden stick in her palm before hastily shoving it into her jacket pocket. “You alright, Kaje?”

“What was that?” KJ asked, her voice wobbling, before her wide stare trained back to Mac. “What are you?”

Mac shrugged. “Cats out of the bag, I guess. I’m the fucking Slayer.”

#my writing #kajemac #paper girls #paper girls fanfic #btvs au #vampire slayer au #this came about solely bc i was thinking about the season 4 finale (terrible) and how the scoobies all represent a part of the slayer #and how it would work for the paper girls #obviously erin is the heart #and tiff is the brain #one could probably make an argument for kj being the spirit #but it’s deeply obvious that mac is the body #the power #and then i thought it’d be so cool if becoming the slayer cured mac of her cancer

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