#phantom pain is a thing y'all

[writing-funsies]

OP characters as besties p.5

p.1 | p.2 | p.3 | p.4 | p.5

characters: Ace, Shanks, Mihawk

warnings: mentions of alcohol, light cussing

notes: all platonic hc's

Ace

will share his food with you

but won't let you take any off his plate

falls asleep on you all the time

uses you as his personal pillow

and will make fun of you if you freak out when riding with him on Striker

despite the fact that it's designed for only one person

but I digress

also uses you as a napkin if needed

sometimes shoots little flames at you to see your reaction

talks about Luffy nonstop

like that's the only thing he ever talks about

by the time you actually meet his little brother

you're ready to strangle both of them

not really

but you could spot the kid a mile away

before you ever actually got to know him

Ace and you working together to become more confident

always teasing each other

you having to fish him out of the ocean when he falls in

drinking contests

staring contests

fighting contests

eating contests

just competing over everything and anything possible

training together

he may be really strong and have a devil fruit power

but he won't hesitate to practice his hand-to-hand combat with you

especially if you need it

will tease you about it though

so you just push him overboard again

long talks about your lives

your pasts

your families

where you see yourselves in a year

five years

maybe even ten years

your goals

and aspirations

just talks about life

he tells you about his dad

and is relieved when you tell him that just because he was his father's son doesn't mean that'll be his legacy 

you two would die for each other

nothing will ever tear you apart

besties for the resties

9/10

super sweet and funny

but won't bathe no matter how much you beg

Shanks

party boy™

genuinely doesn't give a fuck

he's here to have fun

and protect his family

that's it

tells you the corniest jokes you've ever heard

also laughs at everything you say

like Luffy, laughs even when you're being serious

uses his missing arm as an excuse if you ever try to get him to do his duties as captain

sometimes struggles with phantom pains

but assures you they'll go away on their own

drinking contests

if he's got a drink in hand

then everyone's gonna have a good time

100% threw up on your shoes once before passing out

laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard when you told him

quickly stifles his laughter when he sees how mad you are

offers to let you throw up on his shoes to make it even

you just stare at his sandals for a moment before walking away

watching Luffy's progress through the news together

bragging about the kid as if he were your own

the antics you two get up to guarantee that Ben will have a constant headache

the rest of the crew finds your dynamic duo to be hilarious

the sheer power of this crew is near unimaginable

so if the two of you ever actually fight enemies

they don't stand a chance

if anyone ever targeted you

and hurt you

Shanks would have his crew capture your attacker

and then show them exactly why no one messes with the Red Hair Pirates

8/10

always provides a good time

but will laugh at you if you fall 

Mihawk

I ain't ever seen two pretty best friends

until now

you are probably a little more lively than this warlord

he just doesn't care for drama

which means it's up to you to keep him in the loop

yet somehow he has the truly juicy details you could only wish to find on your own

y'all have a small book club

it's just the two of you

you tried to invite Perona to join

but she thought that your reading selection was so not cute

you even tried to invite Shanks once

all that accomplished was you gaining a new drinking buddy

which Mihawk begrudgingly allowed to happen

basically, the book club is just you two sipping on wine while discussing every mistake that the author made while writing your current read

salty bitches™

you're one of the only people alive who can get Mihawk to laugh

which is your favorite party trick

except that he's never laughed at the parties you both went to

(ie visiting Shanks and getting roped into a night of drinking)

he airs out all of the other warlords' dirty laundry to you

will talk mad shit about them

well at least most of them

he finds that no matter how powerful they may be

they're all idiots in his eyes

they can't see the big picture

he trusts that you have enough common sense to use the information sparingly

and you do

for the most part

it's giving rich single wine aunt meets vodka mom (but without the kids)

9/10

knows how to relax in style

but will not let you play with his sword no matter how many times you ask

#one piece headcanons #one piece #one piece x y/n #one piece imagines #one piece x reader #whitebeard pirates #ace x reader #ace x y/n #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #mihawk x reader

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 3 Part 1

Happy WIP Wednesday! So last week, we had a tie between Bring Me Home and Answer My Call. The tie breaker didn't come in until Monday after I'd already finished the entire Bring Me Home chapter and half the Answer My Call one.

So y'all will be getting two fic upates today then I'm going to sleep. I'm tired after a full day of work with a call out. XP

If you want a say in next week's update, vote in the poll!

Welcome to Arc 3 of Bring Me Home! 🎉🎉🎉

Story Summary: Danny's parents find out his secret. It doesn't go well. But he's not alone. His friend Tim Drake, better known as Red Robin, and the Young Justice will not let him suffer.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: fanon-typical violence. This is my dissection fic, but I don't think I crossed the line into graphic. Let me know if you disagree.

Arc 1: AO3

Arc 2: First, Last

-----

Danny waved goodbye to Sam and Tucker as he made his way home from school. They had a long weekend and he planned to fall into bed and take a long nap. And then maybe grab some midnight tacos as Phantom for dinner.

He hummed as he thought about how awesome those tacos would taste when reached his home. Still lost in his daydreams, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Only for electric pain to shoot up his arm. Danny screamed, paralyzed to the spot. He tried to pull his hand back, but something held him in place. He fell to his knees, arm still held out and radiating pain through the rest of his body.

“What? Danny!”

“M-mom?” he forced out between cries. “Hurts!”

He could feel his transformation tugging on his core and he tried to force it back.

“Jack! Quick, it’s Danny!”

“Please,” begged Danny. Even kneeling was getting to be too much. Blackness was threatening the edges of his vision so he closed his eyes. He had to keep from transforming. He had to.

He didn’t even have the breath to scream anymore.

He heard his dad’s voice. There was a flash of light. And then nothing.

---

The first thing Danny was aware of was that everything hurt. His muscles were aching and his right arm was practically numb. The next thing he noticed was that he way lying on something hard. He tried to roll over, only to realize he was strapped down. And not just at his wrists and ankles, but also at his waist and neck.

His eyes flew open in shock and he yelled in panic. Had Vlad gotten him?

“It’s awake, Mads!”

Orange filled his vision as his dad leaned over him.

“D-dad?” asked Danny. He felt his core humming in his chest. His core, not his heart. He twisted his head just enough to see a black jumpsuit.

He was Phantom. His parents knew.

His dad’s face contorted with anger, an expression he’d never once seen there before. “Don’t you dare call me that, impostor! What have you done with my son?”

“Dad, it’s me. I swear. I—I can explain.” He tugged on his restraints, trying to phase through them. Only to scream as the anti-ghost shielding shocked him.

His mom’s steps echoed from out of sight. “You aren’t escaping us that easily, ghost,” she spat the last word. “How long have you been possessing Danny?” She finally came into view, goggles blocking her eyes and her mouth hard.

“I’m not possessing him, I am Danny!”

She sneered. “Jack, now.”

“Release our son!” shouted his father. Then he pulled out a spray can and held down the nozzle.

Danny saw the mist approach him and scrunched his eyes closed as he turned his head to avoid the spray. But of course it was impossible. He whimpered as it settled on him, tiny pinpricks of burning. As he lay there, the feeling grew more and more intense until he couldn’t help but cry out.

And that’s when he breathed it in.

It was all agony, inside and out. The mist settled in his lungs, pure fire trying to melt core.

With a flash of light, he was Danny Fenton again. His heart beat in his chest and his lungs screamed for oxygen. The pain didn’t go away, but it lessened. Danny gasped in deep breaths, his limbs shaking in their restraints as he tried to push through the pain.

“Did it work?” asked his dad.

Fingers brushed his hair off his forehead. “Sweetie? Are you back with us?”

Danny opened his eyes, tears gathering and looked up at the face of his mother.

Her expression turned from hope to hatred so fast he thought he was dreaming. “Green eyes, Jack. The ghost is just trying to trick us.”

“The ghost repellent has never failed before. How are you surviving, ghost?”

Danny screwed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to see his parents’ faces. “It’s me, I promise. It’s me. I’m alive. I’m alive.”

“Stop lying!” screamed his mom.

Then he felt a sharp pain in his side, followed by a wave of agony. He felt like he was being electrocuted again. In defense, he transformed back into Phantom—his ghost form was so much more durable.

But the pain only got worse. He screamed. His wail was crawling its way up his throat, only to fizzle out into a wave of electricity when it hit the anti-ghost restraint strapped around his neck.

“Loud, isn’t it?” asked his father.

“Let’s shut it up, Jack,” said his mother.

“No, no please. It’s me, Danny!”

They ignored him, though. The pain stopped just long enough for him to gasp in a few breaths. Then piece of metal was being fixed under his jaw and over his mouth. His head was yanked up so it could be strapped in the back. Danny tried to yell into the muzzle, but it muffled all sound.

After that, he lost track of what they did. So many inventions were taken out, used, and discarded. Anything to destroy the ghost part of him or force him out of his living body.

He wished he could obey. That he could just be their son again and not Phantom. But he’d learned many times over the last three years that it was impossible. He was both Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom and spitting himself apart would only ever lead to destruction.

He didn’t know how many times he was forced into a transformation as his body tried to choose the form more resistant to the torture. It didn’t seem to matter, though, if he was Fenton or Phantom. His parents would check his eyes or use the ghost tracker and then the next wave of pain would wash over him.

Eventually, however, even his parents ran out of inventions to use.

“This isn’t working, Jackie.”

“What if we can’t force it out, Mads? What next?”

“We’ll cut it out. You know we’ve long hypothesized about the existence of a ghost heart. What better way to test our hypothesis than cutting the parasite out of our own son?”

Danny’s eyes flew open and he tugged with aching muscles, twisting as much as he was able. His muffled protests were ignored just as much as his words had been.

“Where do you think it’s hiding its heart?” asked his dad.

“We’ll use the Fenton Scanner to find the areas of densest ectoplasm concentration and search each of them.”

His mom stalked out of sight and Danny could hear her rummaging through various bins and cabinets looking for the scanner.

His dad, however, stared down at him, eyes hidden behind his goggles and his mouth in an uncharacteristic frown. “If you’re still in there, Danno, we’re gonna get rid of it. We’ll free you, son.”

Danny wanted to tell him he wasn’t trapped, to say again that he was himself, whatever he looked like. But all he could do was whimper and blink away the tears.

Then mom was back, a small scanner in her hand. She pointed it at Danny and he tensed, expecting more pain.

But he felt nothing. Soon enough, the device beeped and she waved over his dad.

“Look at this, sweetie. It’s working better than I expected. Only two main areas of ectoplasm concentration: his brain and his chest.”

“That’s awfully close to his heart, Mads. I don’t know if we can remove it without hurting Danny.”

“If we don’t remove it, he’ll be dead anyway!” Her last word caught on a sob.

Danny was crying in earnest now, too. This couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t. How long would it take anyone to even notice? Jazz was away at college, Tucker had plans with his parents all night, Sam was trying to get along with her parents to get out of a rich-person function later in the month, and he and Tim didn’t have a check-in until Sunday.

Could he survive his parents for two whole days until then?

He forced his eyes open to see his parents hugging. All he wanted was to be between them, caught up in their embrace. But instead he was strapped down to a hard, cold table.

They separated.

“Hold him still, Jack,” said his mom.

So Danny did the opposite. He ignored the ache of his muscles, the way they protested, to twist and yank and move as much as he could.

But his father’s hands were big and he was strong and Danny was tired. When his dad spread his hands over his shoulders and pressed, Danny couldn’t fight back. Above him stood his mom, holding a scalpel that glowed green.

Danny closed his eyes tightly when he saw her lower the blade. He couldn’t watch this. Then agony as it sliced through his skin.

Danny screamed into the muzzle. The pain was so intense that he could focus on nothing else. He didn’t know if his parents were talking to each other. He didn’t know what they were finding inside of him.

Instinct forced him to hide his core, to push it smaller and disguise it. But he knew that nothing would stop his parents forever.

He had no way to judge the passage of time. It felt like an eternity; it felt like a second.

Then the hands on him ripped away suddenly and new shouts, new voices, rang out in the lab.

Danny blinked his eyes open to see Sam and Tucker above him. Sam was paler than he’d ever seen her and Tucker didn’t look any better. He tried to talk to them, but the muzzle still covered his face.

Sam turned her head away and shouted, “Kon!”

A moment later, Superboy was landing next to her, his face grim. Then Danny’s restraints, muzzle included, fell to pieces. He was free.

He pushed himself up, needing to see, only to cry in pain and fall back down when the cuts on his chest protested the movement.

Sam and Tucker shouted at him, told him to stay still. Their words were fuzzy and hard to focus on. Everything was hard to focus on. But in the brief moment of time he’d been able to see more than the ceiling above him, he saw Tim in full Red Robin get up using his staff to keep his parents away.

Tim was here. And the world went black.

-----

Next

I no longer tag, but if you want notifications when I update, check out the Subscription Post.

After about 40k of writing, we're finally back to the scene that started it all! Only now with 4x the number of Young Justice on hand. About three years have passed between Arc 2 and Arc 3, so they've all gotten quite close. There's group chats. So many group chats. Danny's met more members of the Young Justice (and I may write a few of those meetings in the future which is 80% why I decided to make this a series rather than a single work on AO3).

But on the rescue team we've only got Red Robin, Superboy, Wonder Girl, and Impulse.

I'm about a third of the way through with major edits for Arc 2. So I'll probably start cross posting to AO3 quite soon! Main changes are in what Tim tells Bruce about where he is and what he's up to.

#dpxdc #bring me home #now with arc 3!!! #Hope you all are as excited as I am! #dissection fic #vivisection fic #gore #not super graphic #by dp standards at least #but tagging just in case #danny is not having a good time #but his friends weren't gonna let him suffer for too long

[gh0stswh0re]

"-s gonna be alright, darling, i'm right here, just breathe"

warnings: f! reader, softdom (!) simon, forced orgasms + overstimulation, previously established consent + safeword, mild descriptions of war, very dramatic for no reason, 550+ words

a/n: at the end, cuz they are too long

...

he is a man of determination and sheer willpower, a man with a strong moral ground and one might even dare saying simon riley is a bit of a patriot.

dangerous, is what he really is - like a predator he moves, like a sickened predator he stalks and watches, like a bloodthirsty, bellicose predator he hunts down and slaughters whatever poor bastard is his next set target.

he is blind and rabid - a weapon, a machine on the battlefield with phantoms of war scattered across his skin, still haunting his flesh, seared deep inside.

yet, here he is - his lips skating the heartbeat on your neck, his fingers twitching as the grip of his hand on your hip tightens, turning his knuckles a sorrowful white as he caresses you - as if you are the one and only thing to cherish, admire, protect.

weak - he hates and despises being weak, but good lord above he just loves seeing you weak, crumpled underneath him - broken, shattered, tainted.

passing his thumb over your bottom lip - swollen and flushed pink - prying open your mouth, flattening it against your tongue - you gag and he chuckles, as if to torment you, or, perhaps pity your pathetic state. as another finger slides across your clit, teasing it with a quick swirl, and you chew down on the inside of your cheek, nearly drawing blood as you bite down a whine, the ever-so-similar longing seared inside your abdomen.

his eyes dark - like coal, waiting to engulf in burning flames - as he watches you bury your face into his chest, smearing the remains of the dried-up mascara on his shirt "even as you sob, and tears fall down this pretty face-" heaving breaths wreck his tone, "even as you scream and plea-" he begins rocking his thigh, "you keep your eyes on me" one hand squeezes your cheek, until the flushed skin begins to burn and you whimper as you swallow, "even with your mind gone and body fucked into oblivion, you still follow orders" you squeal - completely cornered by his body pressed against yours - boldly, with only a few hints of concern for how tight the grip he held on you was, as he coos you.

he makes you count - pleasure now mixes with stiff pain, muscles spasming and limbs trembling, white flashing behind your tightly shut eyelids - he makes you count.

shows no remorse either - a slap against the soft skin of your inner thigh snaps you back into the physical realm, "four, sir-" his hand leans higher up, two fingers teasing the wet slit - "four, it was my fourth orgasm" - before an even sharper slap lands against the sore clit and spikes of hot pain ripple through you - from the wet, drippy core up to your spine, the aftershock pulsating in your muscles, "and thank you, sir".

it was stupid - nearly ridiculous - the guilt you feel, as you wince and tremble in his lap, shame and excitement pumping through your system. "-s gonna be alright, darling, i'm right here, just breathe"

you could fight back, you convince yourself - sputter protests, but the trembling tone hiding the silent pleas would, ultimately, betray you.

he makes your skin burn, and your insides twist into ugly knots, as you plead with him to just touch you, despite begging him to stop not even a minute ago, the hungry lust shadowing his face, hiding his expression - it was an ache, an ache only he could soothe. "don't care how sensitive and sore it is, princess, -m still gonna fuck you"

...

a/n: not to be melodramatic (*narrator's voice* she is, infact, dramatic and will remain to be a dramatic hoe for the rest of her life) but y'all are so sweet and i have no idea how to thank y'all for ur patience and support <33 i never would have imagined this december would be so busy and stressful, but y'all are gorgeous and deserve only the best!! for the next few days it's gonna be five or so dribbles + any additional fics i haven't posted yet

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley headcanons #simon riley fluff #ghost smut #ghost fluff #ghost headcanons #cod #cod mw2 #ghost #cod mw22 #cod ghost #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #simon riley

[docwritesshit]

Can I request some Charlie x Vaggie X reader?

I don't know if you do poly relationships, I didn't see anything in the pinned post but I might have just missed it.

I do poly ships, dw sweetheart.

LETS GOOOOOO

Charlie x Vaggie x Reader

I think the way you all met was an... Experience.

It was after the extermination when Vaggie was... Fired, from the exterminators.

You were the medical person Charlie went to see to help out

You did, and now there were weekly visits to you to make sure everything was alright for a little while until Vaggie was back on her feet.

You knew something was up when her blood was golden and not the regular red of other sinners, but you didn't bring it up

After treatment, they both asked you out for coffee as a thank you

And the rest... Is kinda history

You were the more quiet one, never really speaking your mind unless prompted, so you were a peaceful presence to be around for them compared to the craziness of the hotel

I know for a damn fact another sinner tried something and Charlie was the one to deal with it, full on putting her princess status. Vaggie and you kinda feel for her all over again

Vaggie was the best at the cuddles, actually

Charlie brought over your favorite snacks just for the hell of it, saying she knew you liked the item and wanted to get it for you

You liked that she didn't try to pull princess rank, but damn is she hot when she does

Vaggie refused for years that y'all couldn't see her back. After a particularly tough night, you were the one to see her back after she got some phantom pains and saw the scars. Oh gods the scars

After the reveal, you weren't as shocked as Charlie, but you both felt the betrayal. But after Rosie talked sense into the two of you, you three had a very very long ass talk where it has been decided that big things were being talked about with all three of you and communication on all ends must be a lot more open.

Now, to make up, Vaggie takes you and Charlie on little flights above the pentagram and it was glorious.

#hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel charlie x vaggige x reader

[misteria247]

So y'all know how in the one episode of the 2012 series that had all the classic horror monsters in it, it was confirmed that one of 12 Leo's fear was Shredder himself when he'd been cornered by a vampire 12 Raph???

Can y'all imagine how he'd react to seeing Rise Shredder, who looks like some kind of animalistic demon more than a human being?

Like 12 Leo's seen some disturbing shit, Super Shredder being one of those things and he himself was nightmare fuel with the helmet, armor and blades made of bones, and the glowing, bulging mutagen filled veins all over his body. And if he saw Rise Shredder that looks like something that came straight out of a nightmare, he'd probably get a chill down his spine. He'd seem fine on the outside, because 12 Raph, 12 Donnie, 12 Mikey, 12 April and 12 Casey would be needing him to keep his cool, especially with this new threat because he's the oldest, the leader and head of their clan. But on the inside......

On the inside he'd be wanting nothing more than to leave. To grab his family, or what's left of it before this new, terrifying Shredder took them away from him as well. He'd probably feel phantom pains in the areas that 12 Shredder had inflicted injuries on him. The only thing that would give away his nerves would be the slight, barely notable tremor in his hands when he holds his swords. No one would notice his internal panicking, except for 12 Raph and Rise Raph and Rise Leo. Rise Leo due to reading and observing his surroundings and 12 Raph because he knows his big brother the best. With Rise Raph it'd be like an instinct going off within him, his big brother alarms blaring that something's off with 12 Leo. Either way 12 Leo wouldn't be having a fun time at all.

#oli talks #ooc #muns ramblings #mindless ramblings of a madman #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt/rottmnt crossover #tmnt 2012 rottmnt crossover #rottmnt tmnt 2012 crossover #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2018 #tmnt 2012 spoilers #rottmnt spoilers #tmnt leo #rottmnt leo #tmnt raph #rottmnt raph #tmnt donnie #rottmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #rottmnt mikey #tmnt april #tmnt shredder #rottmnt shredder #imagine the psychological effects this could give him after he deals with Rise Shredder like my guy

[void-ink-studios]

Prohibitedwish rambling I haven't seen in many (or any) fics but would like to pretty please

Y'all seemed to like my rambling in the last post, so have some more! I have a lot of thoughts about these two, okay? These might be more like prompts of fanfic I would write if I had the spoons for it.

Scarab having chronic pain/balance issues. The ripped wings head cannon (which I can imagine gets phantom pains or never healing right), along with people noticing his missing antenna (which is critical to a lot of insects for balance and orienting themselves), and I've had many thoughts about it. Scarab using his cane as a weapon to hide the fact he's not stable on his legs. Keeping himself prim and proper to disguise the fact he's on the verge of shaking because what's left of his wings hurts so much. And of course, Prismo notices. He notices his new roommate/frenemy teetering without his cane or hiding in the Time Core shaking in pain.

Prismo does not strike me as the type to say no to people. He's everybody's friend, he knows that's his reputation, and he does what can to maintain it. Meaning, he says yes to a lot of things he doesn't want to do. Scarab notices. And maybe, after they've developed a more mutually friendly relationship, and Prismo has helped Scarab be less defensive with people who might actually be chill with him, Scarab returns the favor. He defends Prismo and helps him get the ability to say no. Maybe to unruly gods, or even exceptionally rude wish makers.

Scarab gets really into some kind of craft or hobby (like Prismo's pickle making or banjo lessons) and at first tries to hide it because liking things are for losers and opens you up to hurt, but then Prismo actually likes/encourages it. It culminates in Prismo giving Scarab his own little room for it, like the pickle chamber.

Prismo reconnecting with his friends, with Scarab as a new addition to the group. Cosmic Owl and Death seem like good bros (at least before New Death takes over, but I don't know where in the timeline between Fionna and Cake and Together Again that falls). Scarab is hella awkward, and everyone's kind of cagy about him, but the walls eventually come down. They're all losers and dorks, but they can be that together.

This isn't really a prompt but an observation: Their whole dynamic is Scarab's "Must follow routine and rules to the letter" autism clashing with Prismo's "deadlines and regularity are poison and I will wither" ADHD. They overlap in a fanfic hyper fixation.

If anyone ends up using these ideas, please tag me so I can read it!

#prohibitedwish #scarab the god auditor #prismo the wishmaster #scarab x prismo #fionna and cake

[krscblw]

ghoul perfume associations!

i am very into ghost. and i am also very into indie perfumes! so i decided to combine the two and make a list of my scent associations for each of the ghouls, as well as a few indie fragrances that fit them (in my opinion! if y'all have other thoughts i would LOVE to hear them /gen)

i also included all of the perfumes i found that had the same names as the ghouls, even if i didn't think the scent profile worked, and bonus atmospherics that i think are more naturally ghoul-ish and worked well for the various elements!

warning: this is an obscenely long post. i have too many thoughts.

another warning: because this post is so long, some of the text might get cut off on mobile. it should be okay on desktop if that happens (i don't know how to fix it, sorry)

Aeon

Notes: chocolate, linen, lavender. Aeon smells very gentle and pleasant, but not necessarily sweet. He smells like things that he himself finds comfort in.

Perfumes:

Chocolatine -- Fyrinnae

“Also known as Pain au Chocolat, these flaky croissant-like pastries are filled with pieces of dark or semi-sweet chocolate. This is not a very sweet fragrance.”

TELEGRAMA – Imaginary Authors  

talc, lavender absolute, black pepper, teak, amyris, vanilla powder, fresh linens

Bonus:

Phantom -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab 

Aether

Notes: bourbon, amber, vanilla. Aether smells sophisticated, but with a warm, golden edge. He smells like comfort, like unconditional love- but also a little bit like sex.

Perfumes:

Quintessence of Debauchery -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A distillation of raw, bawdy sexiness without regard for gender - Bourbon vanilla, tonka, dark florals, peach brandy, coriander, mock orange, spiced pumpkin, fresh ginger root, rock rose, long leaf tobacco, black opium infused amber, patchouli, oakmoss, and cruelty-free (vegan) castoreum.”

Morosexual -- Treading Water Perfume  

“Morosexual - The sexual attraction to stupid people. Treat yourself and read your partner at the same time with a scent that is as classy as it is stupid. The earthy combo of vanilla, fresh tobacco and star anise combine with spicy nutmeg to create a warm soft blanket to dull the mind.”

tobacco, vanilla, patchouli, jasmine, star anise, nutmeg

Alpha

Notes: leather, smoke, gunpowder. Alpha smells.. off-putting, to most people. He has an intense personality, and it's reflected in his scent.

Perfumes:

Industrial Sabotage -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A cataclysmic wreckage of burnt wires; twisted melted steel; shattered machinery, and gunpowder.”

Night Shift -- PULP Fragrance  

“Black frankincense, engine grease from a long late shift, smoke, ash, blackened wood, and a hint of leather.”

Cirrus

Notes: dark fruits, musk. Cirrus smells sophisticated in a dark, sensual way. She smells.. hypnotic, almost. She smells like you want her, but she doesn't even know you exist.

Perfumes:

Venus Black -- Possets 

“A grand and very very sensual scent. Black in the most sophisticated way. Considered one of the colors, its working name was Mars' Black but it is so wonderfully feminine that there is no way that it could be named after the god of war, it should be named after the goddess of love. The Blackest musk flirts with a float of black pepper, a shot of dark sweet pear, and the smallest amount of sage and non-stinky narcissus for tingle. One not to be missed. Dry, musky, spicy.”

(i have this one. it's VERY attractive (i had to stop wearing it because i was confusing myself lmao) and now that i associate it with cirrus. i might have a problem)

Salomé -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“An overture of not so innocent magnolia underscored with a sly caress of Queen of the Night, a fulsomeness of nubile black grapes and plums, skin musk bathed in spilled cognac, and ruthless twist of bitter orange, blended with an ancient Arabian love philtre of crushed vanilla and tonka bean, sandalwood, vetiver, cedar, and red oud.”

Bonus: 

Cirrus -- Osmofolia 

Cumulus

Notes: lilac, magnolia, jasmine, sugar. Cumulus smells sweet and cloying. You smell her once and the scent haunts you all day like the most enchanting ghost.

Perfumes:

Alabama -- Possets

“Floral perfume lovers rejoice! This one is the essence of a hot sticky Southern night at the height of passion with the one you love. What a treat! Alabama weaves pink fizzy mimosa, thick white magnolia, canebrake jasmine, Mexican tuberose, and Martinique gardenia. The effect is eternally woman, unabashedly sexy, and in command. These are all knit together with precious Sacred Frankincense to concoct a bombshell of a fragrance, deep white floral with deep incense leanings. A hypnotic fragrance. So very sweet, so very profound. Feminine, floral, devastating.”

Sweet Mother -- Little And Grim  

“‘Sweet mother, I cannot weave --/ slender Aphrodite has overcome me/ with longing for a girl.’ -Sappho. Notes of lush moss, blooming lilac, French lavender, rose, jasmine, mandarin and lemon zest, warm musk, and lily of the valley.”

Bonus:

Cumulus -- Osmofolia 

Skiing On Europa -- Fyrinnae 

“The atmosphere of a distant moon, not as habitable for mammals as Earth, the thin air reminiscent of high mountain elevations before snowfall. Cold, and ozonic like petrichor.”

Dewdrop

Notes: berries, smoke, wood. Dew smells like resinous woodsmoke, with an unexpected berry undertone. (Just like his personality: brash outside, sweet inside.)

Perfumes:

Ignis -- PULP Fragrance

“Raspberries, fresh ginger, smoky aloeswood, pale blond tobacco leaves & fiery red musk.”

A CITY ON FIRE – Imaginary Authors

“The refined smoke accord makes this an austere and luxurious scent for evenings on the town, whether with a special someone or alone and looking for trouble.”

cade oil, spikenard, cardamom, clearwood, dark berries, labdanum, burnt match

Bonus: 

The Center of the Universe -- Alkemia Perfumes   

“The center of our universe is raspberries and rum? In a vast dust cloud at the center of the Milky Way there is an abundance of ethyl formate, a simple aliphatic ester found in the smell of rum and raspberries. To these elements, we've added notes from astronauts' descriptions of the smell of their suits when they return from space walks - freshly welded metal, gun powder, seared steak in an iron pan, burnt almond cookies, charcoal, and ozone.”

Ifrit

Notes: black tea, incense. Ifrit smells heavy and dark in a way that makes you want more. Very mysterious, even though his personality doesn't really match.

Perfumes:

Black Tea -- Possets 

“The most dark and the most tannic of teas. Somehow that puckery quality becomes addictive. Just right for a seductive night deep in July or August where humidity makes itself into a sexy accessory. Not subtle but very alluring. Pure and beautiful, incense floats over it all and the effect is so much like the vapor lines of a mirage. Tea-like but not sweet.”

(this is one of my favorite fragrances EVER, i wear it like every day)

O, UNKNOWN! – Imaginary Authors 

“At the risk of sounding bleak, this night could be your last. Splash on O, Unknown! and plunge forth into prosperity and joy. Repeat as often as you are able.”

black tea, lapsang souchong tincture, orris butter, kyoto moss, musk balsam, sandalwood

Bonus:

The Ifrit -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab 

Mist

Notes: water, herbs. Mist smells aquatic and green, like spring rain or a pond full of plants. There's an icy, aloof edge to her scent.

Perfumes:

Taste of Rain -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“A primordially vernal chypre consecrated by silver rain, green ivy, holy basil, lilacs, moss, and wisteria.”

Diaphanous Dress -- Possets 

“If the lovely Primavera would wear a gown, she might be dressed in a garment made of snow crystals and flowers. Even into April, spring can get cold even while the flowers we all love press upward. Spring displays irony in her variability. Deepest and richest Mexican vanilla troupes bravely with the chill aquatic of snow falling in heavy doses and melting almost on contact. A tuft of chlorophyll is in the background and a hint of the flowers it all overtakes for just a while. This is an enchanting fragrance, a hypnotic springtime blend which is more about the atmosphere than the real flowers themselves.”

Bonus: 

Ammil -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“An olfactory journey that morphs like melting ice... starting cold and aloof with distinct elements of wet snow and ice then gradually unfolding to reveal an indescribably unique velvety skin warmth.”

Mountain

Notes: vetiver, greenery, earth, mushrooms. Mountain smells very green and earthy, almost like he was recently underground, or maybe like he spent all day tending to a fragrant garden (he did).

Perfumes:

Hedale Wood -- Little And Grim

“This fragrance is dark and a bit mysterious, while staying green enough to be worn without smelling too villainous.”

vetiver, cedar trees, bergamot, dense foliage, coriander, musk, sandalwood, frankincense, a touch of lavender, amber

Heirloom Tomato Leaf -- Fyrinnae

“Rows of tomato plants on a humid day, their unmistakable heavy green fragrance filling the air and clinging to your hands as you touch the leaves. This is not a solitary note perfume, but includes significant notes of damp soil and humid air.”

Bonus:

Beneath The Forest -- Fyrinnae  

“Beneath the trees, where scant sunlight ever reaches and few green plants grow, mushrooms (and decay) flourish in the ever-damp soil, surrounded by darkness. Step carefully, there could be traps.”

Nimbus*

Notes: peach, rose, wood. Nimbus smells sweet and slightly earthy, with an overwhelming ripe peach heart and a floral edge. Very pretty, very cheerful, but not childish.

Perfumes:

South Star -- PULP Fragrance 

“Sweet creamy peach, vanilla beans, liatrix, & a woody-ambrette accord, all topped off with a hint of cinnamon.”

Someone Tell Lady Luck -- Little And Grim 

lemongrass, bright fresh ginger, verbena, sweet peaches, bamboo, and clean rain on city streets

Bonus: 

Aurora -- Alkemia Perfumes 

Armenian Rose -- Fyrinnae 

“The fragrance of dark red rose petals and sweeter pink roses with the earthy scent of native lilies.”

*i headcanon nimbus as a earth/air multi

Omega

Notes: wood, amber, tobacco. Omega smells warm, but not quite comforting. He smells like he knows more than you (he does) and like he's a little bit disappointed in you (he might be). He smells like he COULD be comforting, if you managed to earn his approval.

Perfumes:

Bibliotheca -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A vintage elegance of leatherbound books, plush club chairs, vintage vinyl records, polished mahogany tables, fountain pen ink, black tea, dark plum brandy, vetiver, rosewood, artemesia, white carnation, lavender water, citron, tweedy woolens, and oakmoss.”

(i have this one! it's surprisingly woody)

Bronze and Blaze -- Alkemia Perfumes

“Autumnal bronze amber aged with cognac barrel staves, red oak leaves, Perique pipe tobacco, raw wool, ripe pumpkin, opoponax (sweet myrrh), and soft suede gloves warmed by a creamy steamy cup of Bourbon vanilla coffee.”

Rain

Notes: seawater, ozone. Rain smells like the ocean, or more accurately, like a siren that wants to lure you out to sea and kill you. Wet, a little bit green, sweet and salty.

Perfumes:

Mermaids in the Basement -- Alkemia Perfumes

“A siren song of seawater soaked linen, aquatic incense, white ginger, pomelo, limoncello, dry moss, clary sage, cactus flower, prickly pear, loquat, fir resin, cedar needles, mesquite pods, Hinoki wood, Guaiac wood, and Elemi resin.”

EVERY STORM A SERENADE – Imaginary Authors 

danish spruce, eucalyptus, vetiver, calone, ambergris, baltic sea mist

Bonus:

Black Squall -- Fyrinnae 

“Open waters of the deepest blue, eerily calm before the looming arcus cloud in the distance bears down, revealing the wrath of the storm behind it. There was little left to do now but watch and wait. Cold and clean-smelling seawater, ozonic air, now and then a little olive oil from the lamps.”

Sunshine/Stratus**

Notes: strawberries, citrus, vanilla, spices. Sunny smells like summer. She smells like ripe fruit, sweet cold drinks, and sun, with a little bit of unexpected spice.

Perfumes:

Strawberry Lemonade -- PULP Fragrance 

“Fresh strawberries, lemonade, and a bowl of strawberry-vanilla ice cream.”

Lola -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“A dramatic splash of Coca-cola trailed by an adoration of blood orange, pink peppercorns, caviar lime, orange blossom, tonka, spicy nutmeg dancing sinuously across a base of warm Brazilian cherrywood.”

Bonus:

Stratus -- Osmofolia 

Prairie 66 -- Alkemia Perfumes 

“The smell of an old cement-paved road in the desert just before dawn when the cement is cold and almost, but not quite damp. Flowering desert sage, aldehydes, grapefruit, Linden blossoms, bergamot, saffron, gray amber, yucca, yuzu, and cool concrete. ”

**i headcanon sunny as a fire/air multi

Swiss***

Notes: smoke, musk, patchouli. Swiss smells dark but welcoming, unpredictable but attractive. He smells the way velvet feels: sweet, smoky, decadent.

Perfumes:

Smoke & Mirrors -- Alkemia Perfumes

“An elusive, smokey blend of burning wood, Madagascar Vanilla, and Tonka. We find this one to be elementally simple, but unusually mercurial and highly responsive to different skin chemistries… the vanilla and the smoke dance with each other almost continuously… sometimes the foreground is smoky, then sweet, then returns with sweetly smoky, then smoky.”

Allen Ginsberg - Howl -- Possets  

“Possets' interpretation of Howl is unabashedly sexy, driven mad by welling passions. Black, red and amber musks wrestle furiously with sandalwood and opium tar resin. There is nothing light or gentle about this scent. A burning incense backs it up, black patchouli stands in the forefront. Dark, musky, resinous. Tremendously savage, dark and sweet like molasses rather than sugar. ...and yet, there is something innocent about it all.”

(i have howl and it's SO good and so perfect for swiss)

***i headcanon swiss as a fire/water multi

Zephyr

Notes: dust, ozone. Zephyr smells like the air where something once was, or maybe where something is and has been too long. Dusty, faintly sweet, slightly melancholic.

Perfumes:

Dustsceawung -- Alkemia Perfumes

“The scent of forbidden explorations and an olfactory meditation on dust... attic air, the inside of old trunks, abandoned haylofts, library stacks, and abandoned buildings. Dustsceawung is the contemplation of dust, worldly desires, and the ephemerality of all things... raspings that were once a tree, ruins that were once cities, bones that were once lovers. Dust is always the ultimate destination on our journey.”

 Hauntology -- PULP Fragrance 

“Ozone, olibanum, the air in a closed up kitchen cupboard that might once have held raisins and dried apricots, ambergris, burled briarwood, & the lost futures of a home abandoned.”

Bonus:

Zephyr -- Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

if you made it to the end of this i admire your dedication. and i would love to hear what you think!

#thank u for putting up with my rambling! #also if any of the links don't work please tell me and i'll fix it! #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghoul perfume thoughts #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoulettes #perfume thoughts

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: "The Last Battle"

Well TCW fans were happy lol.

It's weird to write these as someone who has very little emotional investment in TCW.

Okay, full disclaimer, I have seen quite a chunk of the show, the husband showed me several of the best arcs, I've seen scattered bits and pieces here and there so I know who a lot of the key players are, a lot of the important events and everything but... I dunno the whole Clone Wars era has just never been a big area of interest for me.

Happy for y'all tho?

Anyway.

[Insert commentary about how this show has really gorgeous environments and y'all sleeping on this work and effort.]

Kanan lampshading the tendency for missions to go sideways ha ha.

Ooof this verbal stumble by Rex is painful, he doesn't know how to act in a scenario where a Jedi is not his commanding officer, ouch.

Oh wow, just like Ezra, Rex shields himself inside his helmet.

Ezra messing with the B1 head awww.

Side note: I LOVE how stocky the model for clones is in Rebels. TCW clones always felt too tall and thin to me, Rebels clones look way more like Temura Morrisan's actual physique.

Ezra accidentally being insensitive about the Clone Wars moment number 1.

Kanan's comment about "scars you can't see". Something the animated shows have always excelled at is showing the genuine aftereffects of PTSD.

Ezra's been playing the Watson role for the past few episodes and it is adorable.

Rex's initial panic when he thinks he's back in the war. :(((

I understand that TCW fandom cried a lot about Rex calling Cody's name unconsciously here.

*sobs* Ezra still looks so TINY compared to everyone else.

Kalani assumed the shutdown order was a Republic trick lol.

Lasats not being part of the Clone Wars is an interesting detail. Obviously, Doylistically speaking, they couldn't have been since they weren't created yet, but also I like the idea that Lasats were adamantly against participating in the conflict and the Separatists took one look at them and decided invading them anyway wasn't worth it.

Ezra maybe naively jumps into things feet first, to Rex and Kanan's consternation. They both already know that War Is Hell. But they also have the best chance of getting out of the situation if they relive their collective war experiences and face their past by fighting one last Clone Wars battle.

Oh hey! It's the shuttle they'd repurpose later as the Phantom II!

Hera and Sabine's small B-plot is very brief, but hilarious.

I think Pryce must have pulled a LOT of political favors in order to be granted occasional command of her own Star Destroyer. She's apparently allowed to lay a trap for the Spectres specifically and has the authority to deploy local Imperial outposts, too.

Not bad for a planetary governor. But then, Pryce was always ambitious beyond her station.

She attached herself to Thrawn primarily for the advancement opportunities, I think.

The sex was probably good too I mean what?

The boys be looking good.

Lol Kanan can hear the cacophony of clanking droid footprints.

Poor Ezra is so lost with all these references.

This is just a fun adventure for him, he doesn't have the frame of reference to know just how harrowing and dangerous this could be for the average Clone Wars Jedi commander and clone unit. So he doesn't know to keep tighter formation and wants to keep charging ahead instead of waiting to assess.

Rex casually calling his training and conditioning and genetic modulation his "programming", directly comparing himself to the droids. Ow. Ow ow ow ow. Hurting in "Central thesis of TCW, that the clones are not just identical mindless meat droids but individual and free-thinking men" feelings.

Kalani and Zeb's exchange here is hilarious.

Chopper jumpscaring Ezra lol.

Just wholecloth grabs his wrist like an excited kid trying to show their parent something.

He's come so far, I'm so proud. All he needs is the slightest gesture.

OH HEY IT'S MY FAVORITE SCENE.

Rex is... I think a little rattled by getting hit. Sure, the armor protected him, but you know it can't have been fun and he probably thought for a moment he had gone down for real. So yeah, Ezra's innocently flippant attitude about things upsets him.

"A good soldier follows orders!" Ouch. Ow ow ow ow that phrase, Rex, please.

You know it's something that's gotta echo inside his head constantly, his programming won't let him forget it.

Eternally a fan of the kicked-puppy flinch Ezra gives here.

Kanan immediately reassuring Ezra that it's not him. <3

The beginnings of a realization.

I slowed this sequence way down to check where Ezra got hit (for... reasons) and from what I can tell, it looks like Ezra didn't quite manage to block a shot and some of it fritzed past his blade and hit his right collar, right where his armor is.

Rex gets dinged in the helmet moments later, but as he said, "Gen 1 armor always holds up." Once again, Rebels showing off the importance of good armor. :)

<333333

The group get up to the command center and Ezra starts to live up to his name as "bridger" between disparate groups, first pointing out that by all rights the droids should have won their skirmish, they were just too old to actually function correctly. Kalani agrees and claims victory, but Ezra also pushes against that, pointing out that none of them actually won the Clone Wars. It just... ended.

The more techie side of Star Wars YouTube have analyzed both sides and concluded that, absent the obvious direction and self-sabotage by Palpatine, the Separatists would have eventually won the Clone Wars. But of course the sabotage and playing both sides was the point. No one was supposed to win the Clone Wars because it wasn't a real war, it wasn't naturally occurring or organic, it was a massive artificial power play by Palpatine, who instigated, incited, prolonged, and manipulated things so that whichever side "won", he would come out on top as the victor standing on the corpses of the Jedi.

Palpatine set both sides up to fail.

This is something Star Wars fandom repeatedly fails to understand, there was no winning in this whole situation. The trap was too carefully set, nothing the Jedi or the Senate or the Separatists did could have prevented the war from happening and nothing they did could have stopped its ultimate endgoal, which was the destruction of the Jedi Order and the consolidation of power under Palpatine as sole ruler of the galaxy. That's the whole tragedy, that they tried so hard, got so close, but ultimately could not prevent that awful fate from happening.

Barring Anakin sitting his ass down for just five more minutes or slashing through the correct party in Palpatine's office, there was no narrative escape. The choices were damned if you do, damned if you don't, and either way you're ending up dead.

Anyway, Ezra's armor-piercing questions absolutely stun Rex and Kalani into silence for a moment before Zeb points out the Empire won. Because they decided to conveniently show up just in time for a good Enemy Mine situation lol.

Kalani resists the logic at first since he's not at war with the Empire but the Stormtroopers casually destroying his scout unit probably helped change his mind lol.

Ezra Persuasion Checks both Kalani and Rex into accepting the team-up, like the budding little diplomat he is. :)

"Well this takes trust to a whole new level." Lol.

Nice to see the B1s retaining their status as hilariously abused butt monkeys.

Rex praising Ezra for "ending the Clone Wars" ahhhhh.

Sabine's eyes lighting up when she sees the shuttle they're bringing awww.

And TCW-inspired credits as a nice little homage.

Predictably this is one of the husband's favorite episodes. It's a fun little romp, pays some love to TCW and develops Ezra's character a bit. It doesn't really affect the larger story outside of that so I guess it could be called filler, but it's a fun filler.

#star wars #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #space dad and his precious pumpkin child #rebels rewatch #liveblog

[reticent-writer]

Xiao x male reader

Mention of suicide

Angst

Event spoilers

"I can't.... Rex.... I'm losing...... Sorry xiao"

Your distorted voice was heard through the chasm while the 5 we're looking for an exit after seeing bosacious.

"Xiao who is that? They said your name." Yanfei questioned but Xiao had an uncharacteristic look of shock before turning to them.

"He was the dendro yaksha. He never liked attention so he also hid when humans were they were near. During the destruction of khanreha he lost his mind and went into hiding."

Xiao talked about you in the same way he talked about bosacious. He loved the memories he shared with you but all good things come to an end.

"I know who he is, the phantom yaksha. He helped from the shadows and saved any human he could." Yelan said causing Xiao to nod.

"That's so sad. I wonder where he went." Paimon looked to aether who was looking at Xiao.

There was a moment of silence before the sky darkened as a scream erupted from behind Xiao.

Turning around Xiao saw you on the ground with your (choice of weapon) on the ground next to you while you were squeezing your neck in pain.

"Y/n." Your head shot up at the sound with a look of fear.

"Xiao?"

Said yaksha tried to get closer but you backed away.

"NO." You shouted and haistily stood up into a fighting stance "your not supposed to be here. None of you are."

Xiao teleports behind you and take your weapon. Vines shot up wrapping around his neck, arms and legs restraining him.

"I can't control it anymore. I DON'T WANT TO HURT ANYONE ELSE." You ran behind the portal before anyone could stop you.

When out of sight the vines disappeared.

Yelan was hot on your tail but when going behind the portal was your body entangled into the ground on your back.

The sight barely shocked her as she called the others over.

"Is he DEAD." Paimon screamed taking refuge behind aether/lumine.

"Yes" Xiao said simply. Taking your body of the roots he held you tight.

"What is he to you? You seem close to him." Yelan was very observant with the few time they saw the phantom yaksha and Xiao.

It took a minute before he answered. "He is equivalent to what humans call a significant other."

No other words were shared as he put you on his back to take you to the surface.

*tiny time skip*

Once at the surface he took the traveler to pervacies resting place.

"I want to bury him here. I also wanted to take a rock in memory of bosacious but the rock did not make it."

The memories came flooding back.

You and him we on a mountain not far from the other yaksha.

"Xiao why do you have to so cynical all the time." You chucked. Placing a hand to his cheek. "I'm not. I'm simply saying I would die for you."

You had a deep blush on your face, placing you hands on your hips and turning away.

"That's what I mean. You don't have to protect me cause I'll be the one to protect you." It was his turn to blush. You laughed and hugged him.

"Xiao if something every happens to me.... Just know that I love you." He pulled away from the hug and kissed you.

"I love you too Y/n."

He missed you along with the other yaksha and it hurt him that he was the only was still alive.

After burying you a beautiful tree sprouted from the ground. It's leaves had different colors and elements in them.

When people touched them they heard voices of laughter or small visions of their lost loved ones, but for Xiao they held the memories of the fallen yakshas.

Even in death you wanted to show people happyness.

-------------

Y'all got the concept right? Yeah y'all got it.

#male reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao x male reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin angst #reticent writes #reticent-writes

[sarahowritesostucky]

Re-uploading my library with only the fluffier🌺 pieces, because fiction⛔reality, but nobody told the 🧌🧌 that

If you used to follow me at sarah-writes-stucky, this is the reboot of that blog, so please give a follow and a re-blog! I miss y'all!

📖"Wet Dream" - Rated E

(gorgeous manip in the banner made by the amazingly talented @kocuria)

Pairing: Bucky x Steve

Tags: Dom/sub au, dom Bucky, sub Steve, post-serum Steve, age gap (20's/40's) , cock cages, Orgasm delay/denial, m! rec. oral, submissive release, teasing, domestic, light humiliation, tiny!dick Steve, size kink, dumbification, subspace, biological D/s

Summary: Bucky's teased him for twelve days, and Steve's taken it beautifully, going down easier each night that he's denied and tucked away into his cage. It's no wonder he's started having wet dreams, humping the bedding without any self-control.

Bucky is drawn from sleep by a cadence of soft, breathy sounds. At first, he doesn’t realize what it is that’s woken him. He’s too busy yawning and shuddering through a big stretch, eyelids fluttering from the assault of sunlight streaming in through his east-facing bedroom windows. It isn’t until he’s lying there, rubbing the phantom ache from his left shoulder and reconsidering the purchase of blackout curtains like he does every morning, that he hears it:

A soft, pleasured little “oghn,” from Steve’s side of the bed.

Bucky’s eyes shoot open and he turns his head with an incredulous expression, thinking that Steve’s over there touching himself. But he isn’t awake, and Bucky feels his cock stir as he realizes that Steve isn’t touching himself.

Steve’s never been the type to brat in obvious ways—emphasis on “obvious,” because he does have his ways. And those behaviors usually get worse the more stressed out over something he is. These past few weeks have been busy and fast-paced. Steve’s work keeps loading new patients onto his already overfull plate, and Bucky’s got his three (soon to be four) businesses to run. That means a lot of time spent apart. But Bucky’s not neglectful. He’s been domming Steve in one of the only ways he has available to him when they get less than a single waking hour to spend together each day, for day after day after day: Denial.

Steve had accepted another tease and tuck last night with nothing more than a whimper and a sniffled, ‘yessir’, that’d made Bucky’s dick attempt a second coming, even after he’d already fucked a load between Steve’s tightly-clamped and oiled thighs.

No, Bucky thinks, watching his boy in the morning’s mote-specked sunshine. Steve isn’t touching himself; he’s dreaming.

He’s on his front, face turned towards Bucky on the pillow, pretty lashes fanned out against his cheeks while he dreams. He’s breathing open mouthed and moaning quietly, a concentrated little pinch lodged firmly between his eyebrows. It looks like he’s struggling to find completion even in his dreams.

“Mmm … nnn, unngh, mmm—”

Bucky chuckles. “Poor baby,” he murmurs, turning on his empty side to watch.

He’s always had a bit of a thing for touching his subs when they’re unable to resist, and sleep is no different than a bunch of well-tied jute, in that regard. In a lot of ways it’s even better, even more of a surrender. You can’t safeword when you’re unconscious, after all. It’s something you have to consent to while knowing full well how vulnerable you’ll be. How helpless. The sheer intimacy inherent in that level of trust is breathtakingly seductive to someone like Bucky.

Bucky wore an old Army tee shirt and some boxers to bed last night, but as a matter of protocol, Steve always sleeps naked. Bucky reaches over and trails a single finger down the muscled slope of his back, warm and firm, all the way down to his absolute peach of an ass. Not squeezing it is almost painful, but Bucky refrains anyway, not wanting the moment to end quite yet.

“My little blanket hog,” he whispers fondly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Steve’s been humping the mattress, the blankets and sheets pulled over and bunched under his hips from a night’s worth of fitful sleeping. He’s squirming and moaning out the cutest, most helpless little noises, making Bucky want to eat him right up.

He turns away, because he’s gonna need arms for this.

He moves carefully to avoid waking Steve, reaching over the side of the bed to grab his prosthesis off the floor. It hums in recognition when he holds it up at the anchor site, snapping into place and all the plates giving a synchronized shiver as the system recalibrates.

He scoots over and puts his face right by Steve’s so that he can watch him wake, retracing with his flesh hand: down the slope of his back, across his sacrum, and between his cheeks. He traces over his hole and further down, to stroke fingertips absently against the plump stretch of his taint. Even that part of him is a little swollen, which makes Bucky’s heart squeeze and his dick ache at how much he knows his boy has taken from him in the past few days.

Willingly taken, Jesus. The thought of it just about does Bucky in.

He circles his fingers, using only the barest amount of pressure. Steve makes another quiet sound in his sleep, the touch obviously finding its way into whatever dream he’s having. Bucky smiles and reaches further between his legs to cup the velvety skin of his sac. His balls are warm and full, and Bucky tuts in sympathy. He lies next to him and kisses at his slack mouth while he wakes up. When Steve’s eyes finally flutter open, he looks lost for a moment.

Bucky hums. “Hey, Sugar. Looked like you were having some real sweet dreams, there.”

“Mmmh?” Steve shivers and sticks his ass back for more as he registers the hand between his legs. “M’yeah.” He sighs. “I was.” He starts moving his hips again, thrusting into the bunched sheets with more coordination and intent. “Nnn, fuck.”

Bucky pinches his inner thigh. “None of that, now. Only what I give you.”

Steve groans miserably, but after a second’s hesitation he does obey, rolling over to avoid the temptation of humping the bed any further.

Bucky slides one hand up to paw at the swell of his chest—massive, muscled, hairless—and nuzzles into his neck, inhaling the scent of Steve that’s so present after a night’s sleep. God, he loves it. “What were you dreaming about?” he asks between kisses to his neck. He hears Steve hum, feels one of his hands appear on his forearm to play along the dusting of hair there. Steve mumbles something unintelligible and lazy, probably having already let his eyes slip closed again. “Ah ah,” Bucky purrs. “Tell me.” It’s light, playful, laced with a hint of his Command to get Steve flustered.

“Mmm. Um …” Steve shudders as Bucky captures a nipple and rolls it between his fingers. “Buck, oh. Y-you.”

“Me?” Bucky chuckles. “What about me, huh?”

“Oh, I … unh, I dunno.”

He nips Steve’s neck, fingers pulse-pinching his nipple to the cadence of his words: “Uh-uh, Sleepy-head. Tell-me.”

“Mmm, was fuckin’ you,” Steve says, lazy smile playing at the edges of his mouth like he’s still dreaming it. “Only … you had a pussy?” He frowns and then giggles. “I dunno. Makes no sense. Like when you dream your dog as a cat, you know? And like, in the dream it’s a cat, but dream-you still knows it’s your dog?”

Bucky snorts. “I don’t know which is worse: the thought of you secretly being a cat person, or you secretly being straight.”

“Buck, you’re a cat pers—”

“Watch your mouth, boy,” he says, in his best Dom growl, eliciting another giggle from Steve.

“But you’ve got Alpine—"

“She’s a roommate, you little smartass.”

“Still uses a litterbox,” Steve grumbles.

Bucky ignores that and goes back to mouthing at his neck. “Anyway, now that I know how you really feel about pussies … and pussies—” Steve whines and smacks at his forearm, and Bucky grins against his skin. “Settle down, you. I’m just teasin’. Tell me more.”

“Mmn.” Steve pouts. “No.”

“‘No’?” Bucky says it warningly, letting his voice dip down into that dark and viscous register where it carries the extra weight needed to make Steve shiver pleasantly. He kisses the shell of his ear. “Want to try that again, sweetheart?”

“Nnn. I don’ remember anything else. Jus’ felt good.”

“And you were fucking me. And I had a pussy.” He lets his nail dig in at Steve’s nipple, grinning when it elicits another shiver. “Only pussy I see around here is between your legs, honey. Right behind that little thing you call a penis.”

“S’a dream,” Steve complains, blushing prettily at the jab to his cock (Bucky knows what his boy likes). “Doesn’t have’ta make sense.”

“Hm, you’re right. It sure doesn’t. But dreams can be telling sometimes.” Bucky stretches out alongside Steve’s big body, one foot hooked over his shin to keep his legs spread apart. “Look down and watch,” he murmurs. He waits until Steve has obeyed before he starts to slide his flesh hand down over that drool-worthy chest, those hardened abs, that flat belly framed by those thick obliques. All the way down to the place where silicon meets skin.

Steve’s still wearing the sweet mint green he went to bed in, though he’s got a whole slew of colors to choose from. A lot of internet shopping had happened, back when Bucky first became Steve’s keyholder. He’d found a site that would custom make any cage, any type, sized to fit; and then had a field day picking out all the pretty, soft pastel colors that the company offered. Just the fitting and the shopping and the trying-on had been exercises in the sort of delicate humiliation that Bucky knows Steve thrives on.

They’re not twenty-four-seven people, but when they do cage, they use rubber—some soft enough to give a good fondle through, others so sturdy that Bucky knows there’s no way Steve could ever dream about rubbing one out while locked. The custom fit is important, too. Most metal varieties of cock cages tend to be sized for more … endowed men, and Steve—to Bucky’s eternal delight—requires no such accommodation.

He closes his hand over Steve’s cock. “Whose is this?” he asks sweetly. “Mm?”

“Y-yours,” Steve breathes, licking his lips and staring down at Bucky’s hand. “Oh, ss’yours.”

“That’s right. And why did we decide that, hm? Can you remember that for me, big guy?”

It takes Steve several tries before he manages to stutter out a breathy, “I–I–I touch it. I t-touch it too much.”

Bucky hums in approval. “And I give you your pretty cages to help you with that, don’t I?”

“Yessir.”

“Help keep this sweet prick from getting too excited. Cause that’s when it starts getting big ideas, getting confused about what it’s for.”

Again, Steve nods distractedly, all of his attention down at the place where Bucky’s cradling his junk. “Th-thank you, Sir,” he whispers unprompted, grateful to Bucky, even after night after night of teasing and denial.

Bucky’s lips curl and his heart pretty much melts. Fuck, does he ever love this kid. “You’re welcome, baby. But then, are you supposed to be stimulating yourself in your cage?”

Steve sniffles and shakes his head. “Mm mn.”

Bucky tuts sympathetically. “It’s my fault. I thought you could handle the softer cage for bedtime. But that just lets you feel too good when you start squirming around in your sleep, huh? And once you get going, it’s real hard for you to stop.” Between Steve’s legs, he gives his handful a jostle. “S’okay. You know I don’t blame you for any of that. This big, dumb body’s got a lot of urges, that’s all.” He pecks a kiss to Steve’s ear and whispers, “You were humping the bed so much, puppy.” He snickers when this gets a mortified whine out of Steve. He tries to close his legs, but Bucky’s foot hooked over his shin prevents it. “Ah ah. Shhh. No need for that, pup. It was real pretty, I promise. I love watching you have wet dreams.” When he says the words ‘wet dreams’, he presses against the soft tip of the cage, dipping inside the hole with the edge of his thumb.

Steve’s breath hitches as it touches his slit. “Oh …”

“Mm. And it was a wet dream, wasn’t it?” Bucky draws his thumb away, a glistening thread of precum connecting it to the cage. “Lookit you. You’re leaking, honey.”

“Bucky.”

He lets go, sliding his hand up to rub over Steve’s pubic bone, just above where he knows he really wants it. His hips jump and shudder, a sad noise escaping him at the loss of the touch on his caged dick. “So,” Bucky says, amused. “You’re dreaming about fucking your Sir’s pussy. That’s an interesting one, especially since we both know you haven’t wormed that bitty clitty into a pussy in so long. Are you sure it even remembers how?”

“Oh.” Steve’s obvious embarrassment makes him beautiful. The pink flush that began on his face is now creeping steadily down his neck. Soon it’ll be to his shoulders, then his chest, and Bucky loves when Steve gives him a full-tit blush.

He trails his fingers lazily over the space between Steve’s belly button and his cock, watching the way all the fine muscles in his lower belly quiver as he tries to hold still. Inside the cage, his cock gives a noticeable twitch. “You’re real worked up this morning, huh?”

“S-sir,” Steve agrees, nodding, wetting his lips and glancing at Bucky’s face hopefully. “Please. Please.”

Bucky chuckles. He loves to see Steve so frustrated, and deep down, Steve loves to feel that way. It’s one of the best ways to help him go down. He’s on his way now. The lack of language is one hint, but if Bucky needed another, it’s right there on his face. One good look in his eyes, and Bucky knows they’re getting close. All that blue, thinned down to nothing but slivers, pupils eating up his irises as his brain prepares for the dump. He just needs more of a push.

Bucky turns further into him, giving him a bit more of his weight, more of his leg slotted between his thighs. Steve tries to hump him, but Bucky pulls back each time until Steve whimpers and the behavior stops. “Shhh,” he soothes, dipping down to kiss him. He’s soft but insistent, inviting himself inside and taking his own sweet time about it, really relishing the feel of their mouths slotted together, the press and play of their lips. And Steve’s like a goddamn stick of butter: melts at body temp, spreads like a dream.

“I wanna take you down, sweetheart,” Bucky tells him quietly. “That sound good to you?” Steve gives a dumb little ‘uh huh’ of a moan, nodding eagerly. Bucky smiles and nips his lip. “Hey now, I might keep you there for a while, maybe all afternoon.” He’s not asking so much as informing, but he knows that Steve is capable of speaking up for himself when needed—even when he’s on the precipice of losing his few remaining brain cells like he’s about to do right now.

Today is Steve’s first day off in almost fourteen, and even though Bucky has opinions on that, he’s still gonna grab some iota of consent, because he doesn’t want to hear his sub bitching about a wasted Sunday six hours down the line. “Not gonna make you do anything but feel,” he promises softly, brushing their lips together. “Alright sweetheart? Does that sound like fun?”

Steve exhales shakily, nodding. “Yes Sir.”

“Ooh, ‘Sir’. Somebody’s tryin’ to start the day out in my good graces.”

“Mmyeah.”

Bucky chuckles and goes back to kissing his neck and playing with his nipples. He pinches and rolls them, one and then the other, until they’re drawn into tight, sensitive peaks. “Do you need to cum, Stevie?” He hears Steve’s heavy swallow pass through his throat and feels him nodding his head.

“Uh huh.”

“Hmm. Yeah, you must be aching by now. This big ol’ body of yours. It just needs to cum all the time, doesn’t it?”

Steve whimpers and nods again, sighing out a shaky little ‘yeah’ that Bucky absolutely loves.

He loves everything about Steve, of course, but there’s just something so special about how he gets when he’s been denied for a while. He gets so desperate for it, so helpless in his need for physical release. Ultra-focused and yet dumbed down by it at the very same time. There’s nothing in the world like a six. Someone who actually needs what Bucky has to give. At this point, he’s quite sure that Steve’s ruined him for anyone else in the future.

That doesn’t exactly matter though, because—unbeknownst to Steve—Bucky’s got about sixty thousand dollars worth of forever hiding in the back of his watch drawer, just waiting for the right time.

He hovers over Steve and gives him a kiss, slow and coaxing, licking at the seam of his lips to get into the heat of him. Steve lets him in, of course, and Bucky curls his fingers into the give of his waist in an approving squeeze. He pulls back and looks down. Steve’s dazed, blue eyes blink upwards, his lips still parted, a flush high up on his cheeks. He looks made of sunlight, so precious. Bucky smiles softly. “Alright, Angel. How many days has it been?”

“... Since?” Steve keys into his tone of voice and perks up. He starts to look hopeful, and when Bucky waggles his eyebrows at him, he exhales in a rush, a smile breaking out over his face. “Twelve,” he says. “Fuck, thank you. Twelve!”

Bucky snickers and rolls over to grab the key from its spot on the bedside table. When he comes back, he sits between Steve’s spread legs and pulls him down in the bed, until his thighs are draped over Bucky’s knees and his ass is all but in his lap. He unlocks the cage and removes it gently, setting the pieces aside. Steve’s dick is already reacting, soft but thickened, the head fattening up underneath the foreskin.

Bucky pushes it up against his belly, thumb dipping down to trace along the seam of his heavy balls. “Look at these puppies,” he murmurs. “So full. Are they full, baby?”

The muscles in Steve’s thighs keep flexing as he fights not to squirm. “Y-yeah.”

“Mmm.” Bucky holds one testicle between his fingers and rolls it, massaging gently and teasing, “More balls than cock on you—ain’t that just perfectly fitting for a stubborn little hothead like you?”

“Buck,”

“Tell me how they feel,” he purrs, his Command laced through the words just enough to help Steve sink a little more.

“Th-they feel … heavy,” Steve whispers. “Hot n’ … n’ tight.”

“I’ll bet. Twelve whole days since you’ve busted a nut.” Steve whimpers and Bucky tickles the plump stretch of skin behind his balls. “And how long since I really wrang out your prostate good and proper?”

“Oh. Uh, um …” his throat bobs and his eyes slip shut as Bucky pets him. “Uhm … m-maybe three?”

“Three weeks.” Bucky whistles lowly and cups his taint. “No wonder you look swollen back here, boy.”

He can’t deny that he isn’t a complete letch of an old man, because he loves to see Steve blush (or in this case, blush harder) at being called “boy”—as if Bucky’s a full fledged man and Steve is only halfway there. It’s a stretch, but there are things that’ve been further from the truth.

“Aand,” he angles his fingers in. “What about release?”

A little wrinkle of concentration appears between Steve’s eyebrows as he tries to generate useful thought in his brain. It’s adorable. “I … I don’t kno—oh!”

“Don’t know?” Bucky simpers. He’s curled his fingers in behind Steve’s balls, pressing to get at that vulnerable spot that can sometimes trigger his releases. It won’t right now. He hasn't sunk enough for it yet. “Don’t lie to your Dom, Sweetiepie. You’re really tryin’ to tell me you don’t remember the last time you went all soft n’ useless for me? The last time you went ass up n’ wet all over yourself?” He hushes Steve’s embarrassed keen, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. “That’s okay, Stevie. I remember. I remember all of ‘em.”

Release isn’t something Bucky’d encountered in a partner before Steve. Not every sub has them, and it’s not something they can control. A rush of spasms and body fluids, dump of brain chemicals twice as strong as those brought on by typical subdrop. Such a deep response only really happens for sixes—Maybe some fives, if they’re with the right dom. It is … intensely private; something people tend to either fetishize, or else weirdly disdain.

Steve’s always been embarrassed of his, but that’s something Bucky’s been working to break him of. There is nothing more arousing, more primal, more flattering, than having a sub’s body signal submission in that way. Bucky had shot up to the freakin’ stratosphere of domspace the first time it’d happened, unused to the stimulus. He’d been useless for a bit, and it was just lucky that they’d been in a club at the time. The DM had stepped in and taken care of Steve until Bucky was capable again.

“It’s been just about five weeks since you gave me one,” he says, anticipating the distressed whimper that comes out of Steve. He rubs over his lower belly soothingly. “I know, I know. S’been too long, huh big guy? All that pressure building up. You know what the doctor said.”

“Buck,”

“But you’re always at work, Sweetheart. Hell, I feel like I haven’t seen you in days. I barely have.”

“M’right here, jerk.”

Bucky pinches his inner thigh, but there’s little heat to it, just the familiar griping of their relationship. He’s been on Steve for months to find a less demanding job. Steve doesn’t get paid enough and the people at his work take advantage of his good nature. (Bucky had figured out, very early on in their contract, that Steve was one of those subs who pushed themselves too hard in their professional endeavors, and then needed to have the resultant stress dommed out of them.)

Bucky grumps, “You don’t listen to your Sir when he tells you to set boundaries, to clock out on time, to come home.” He plays idly with Steve’s cock and balls as he scolds him, pinching lightly here and there. “How am I s’posed to take care of you proper?”

“Mmn … n-not my fault,” Steve slurs. His eyes are closed and the curl of his mouth looks none too chastised. “S’still work. Somebody’s gotta help the patients, n’ I still gotta—”

Bucky flicks his balls. “It’s still bratting. Don’t think I don’t see right through you, Rogers. Like you don’t have twenty coworkers who could pick up that slack if you refused to.Excuses.”

Steve’s insistence on doing the right thing has always been his own little way of shirking authority, of misbehaving until it gets him what he really needs: someone to step up and put him in his place. Bucky has—exasperatedly but enthusiastically—been filling that role for the past eighteen months. He knows Steve’s needs like he knows his own, and he knows his body almost better than his own.

That’s why he’s let him out of the cage and why he’s all but got Steve’s ass in his lap right now. It’s not so much that Steve needs an orgasm, but that he needs to be dropped good and thorough, a milking, maybe even a full release, if Bucky can manage to work one out of him. Steve’s body doesn’t like to give those up, and it’s less predictable.

“I miss you, honey,” Bucky coos at him. Other than some shallow bossing around at bedtime, he hasn’t had any opportunity to care for his boy these past few weeks (and seriously: fuck the underfunded and stretched thin structure of the V.A.). “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says quietly, squeezing Steve’s inner thigh muscles deeply. “You listening?”

“Yes Sir,” Steve whispers.

“I’m gonna touch you, play with you a bit. Make you feel good.”

“Cum?” Steve asks hopefully, and Bucky snickers.

“Edge,” he says, giving Steve another pinch when he wiggles and whines. “Hush, now. I told you: I want to play with you for a while. I’m gonna get you so worked up, baby.”

“Hurts,” Steve whimpers, moping over it. “Bucky.”

“Shh.” Bucky tickles his sac. “Yeah, it’ll ache, but I’ll drop you so good that you won’t even be in your body to feel it, after a while.” Though there’s a great deal of intersection, the things that bring the best sexual climaxes aren’t always the same as the things that bring the best sexual submissions. Bucky watches as a pleased shiver runs through Steve’s body at the promise of a good drop. They both know which of the two is more important for someone like Steve. On the bed in front of him, Steve visibly starts to relax a little more. Bucky smiles and massages his thighs. “Mmhm, that’s it. It’s been hard for you lately, hasn’t it?”

“Mmm. Buck. Yeah. … Been so—mmm—so stressed.”

Bucky coos and rubs up along either side of his pelvis, digging his thumbs in at the crease of his groin. “You gonna try and go down easy for me this time?”

“Please,” Steve whimpers sadly. “Buck, I do. I’m … I want to.”

“Shh sh sh. I know, honey. I know you do. And you know you’re my good boy. Always.”

It’s often hard for Steve to get past the barrier of his natural stubbornness, to let himself go soft enough to shed that shallow, false dominance he wears around like a shield. It’s people like Steve that Bucky designed his clubs for: high level doms and subs who aren’t partnered and want to get their kicks met somewhere safe, sexy, and affordable.

Steve was assessed high needs in middle school, and while general designation is socially common knowledge after puberty, one’s level within that designation is not. One through six, or switch. Your doctor knows, your parents know, you tell your boyfriend or girlfriend, maybe a few close platonic friends—more people, if you’re typical. But people who are high needs don’t tend to go around bragging about it. Bucky knows firsthand the awkwardness of having to explain to someone new that you fall on the far end of the spectrum, just like he knows that he’s one of only a few people with whom Steve has ever entrusted his status as a six.

Bucky pets his skin and feeds him quiet rumbles and purrs, compliments and directions, calling him beautiful and giving him easily obtainable goals, most of them simple orders to hold still in one way or another. “Keep your eyes closed,” he murmurs. “Just focus on me touching you. Isn’t that nice? Yeah Sweetheart, I know, I know.”

Steve is a gorgeous human being who tends to turn heads wherever he goes. He’s young (27) and beautiful, and if Bucky weren’t so confident in his own masculinity at his advancing age (41), he might actually be in danger of developing a complex. Because Steve is the one whom most people notice first when the two of them walk into a room together. His size draws the eye and his features keep the interest, with his Botticelli face and the type of body that few people are willing to work hard enough for. He really does look cut from marble, muscular and strong and textbook attractive. Steve’s is a beauty that pretty much smacks you in the face. And the absolute sweetest part of it all, is that he really doesn’t seem to be aware of it. A big, sweet, dumb blond.

Now how was Bucky ever supposed to not eat a boy like that up?

And then there’s the pièce de résistance: the fact that between his legs, Steve is small. Not tragically so, but compared to the rest of him it’s a striking difference. He’s got this surprisingly little dick nestled between his beefy thighs, hooded and delicate, propped against the generous pillow of his balls. Whenever Bucky sees his gorgeous juxtaposition of a body all laid out on a bed like this, he can’t help but feel like the man was made just for him.

Especially that sweet little cock.

He groans under his breath as he touches it, letting his fingertips drag over the soft skin. “Spread those legs a little wider for me, doll.”

Steve complies, hips flexing and scooching his butt down the bed another inch.

Under Bucky’s scrutiny and his glancing touches, Steve’s little dick twitches and jerks with interest. “Heere it comes,” Bucky murmurs, taking it between his fingers and stroking at the tip, working the little wrinkle of foreskin where it still covers the head. He dips his thumb inside and swirls it around, circling the tip of the glans. It’s all slick and gliding from the precum he’s already giving up, and Bucky rumbles, pleased. “Well lookit that. You always wet up so easy for me, dontcha baby?”

“Fuhh-ck,” Steve slurs. “Buckee.”

He’s been going down easier with each day that Bucky continues to deny him, the surrender of giving up his sexual pleasure turning him into the kind of soft and pliant sub that Bucky’s always known he could be. It just takes a little extra coaxing for Steve, a little extra time, his big body and stubborn brain fighting the process harder (and needing it more) than most people Bucky’s dated in the past. Being with Steve has, without doubt, made Bucky a better dom.

Steve’s prick slowly thickens in Bucky’s hand, even though Bucky’s barely touching him. “Well look at you, big guy,” he purrs. “Fattening up real nice for me, aren’t you?”

Steve whines and squirms in pleasure, and Bucky teases him a little more with his words and his hands, telling him how pretty his little dick is, how cute. Bucky loves humiliating Steve over his size—both his “big dumb body” and his “pretty little prick.” Of course, it’s always that special brand of sweet and tender humiliation that they have between them, anything rougher than that being outside of Steve’s limits. Bucky’s boy is so sensitive, needs to be handled so gently. Gently, but firmly. And even with all the teasing, Bucky’s always gone to great lengths to make sure Steve knows what an absolute dream he is.

“Thought I told you to close your eyes,” he chides, when he looks up and sees Steve peeking at him. Steve makes a cute little squeak of a sound and his eyes slip shut, and Bucky smiles. “Thatta boy.” He starts to stroke him off lightly, only using his two fingers and thumb to work the foreskin in a gentle motion. Steve inhales deeply and his cock fills out the rest of the way. “There you go,” Bucky murmurs. Completely hard like this, Steve’s a little more than half Bucky’s size. “So pretty, honey.”

Underneath his boxers, Bucky’s own dick is chubbed up and eager for more, but he ignores it. He’s got plans for himself later. Smoothing his metal hand over Steve’s belly, he jerks him off slowly but steadily, until the foreskin is drawn down and the shiny pink head of him peeks through on each stroke, precum getting on Bucky’s fingers and making everything nice and wet. “Tell me when you’re close,” he whispers, and a few minutes later Steve’s whispering back,

“Close—oh,”

“Shhh.” Bucky lets go of his dick and rubs his inner thighs to get him to calm down, watching the bob of his Adam’s apple and the shine of those lips that he’s licked and bitten pink. His blond hair is all rumpled from sleep and his skin is golden in the stream of morning sunlight coming through the bedroom windows. He’s so incredibly, painfully beautiful; looks like a flipping Greek god, an Adonic youth, a spoil of war. Steve arouses in Bucky every instinct he’s ever had to take and dominate and own. Sometimes he really wonders what an old asshole like him did to earn such a perfect boy.

“Love you, Stevie,” he murmurs, going back to stroking him. “Being so good. Remember, you just tell me when. That’s your only job right now. That’s all you have to do. Don’t gotta think or worry about aanything else.” Steve seems to melt into the bedcovers at hearing this, which is, of course, the entire point. Bucky knows exactly how to talk to his boy to bring him down into the absolute best headspace. “Good,” he praises lowly. “So good for your Dom, sweetheart. So sweet to let me play with this little cock however I want.”

The second peak comes quickly, and even Steve seems surprised by it when he manages to choke out a quiet little “... close,” after only a few seconds.

He lasts a little bit longer on the third. Bucky keeps his grip very light and gets a few full minutes of stroking in before Steve’s breathing picks up and he gasps out another “close!”

Bucky lets go, humming his approval for Steve to hear and rubbing the crest of his groin on either side, all over his waxed-smooth pubic mound and the place where his thighs meet his body. “Suuch a good boy.” He watches Steve recover, face pinked after the difficulty of that third edge, the swell of his chest rising and falling as he regains his breath.

And fuck, those tits. They’re big and beefy, heaving and flushed and just barely starting to shine from perspiration. Bucky can’t keep himself from touching, leaning forward to grope each thick pec, and then pinch and pluck at his nipples. He’s so swollen and puffy there, looks like he just came from benching two-fifty at the gym. Bucky lets his nails drag down the right side as he pulls back. “You’re doing beautifully,” he praises, even though they’ve barely started the edging. It isn’t uncommon for Bucky to bring Steve close and back him off from orgasm dozens of times in one session. He doesn’t plan to keep this going too much longer, though. He just wants to get him to cry a little before they get up to start their day.

He starts stroking again, still using those same, easy touches; gentle and gliding. When Steve utters his next, “close,” Bucky stops stroking but doesn’t remove his hand, letting Steve’s cock rest, wet and throbbing, inside the loose curl of his fist. He tuts and fondles him while they wait. “Ooh, honey. I could feel that one.” He gently traces the vein on the underside, up to the frenulum and his drawn down foreskin. He eases it back up over the head, and even hard like this, it almost covers him. Bucky thumbs over it, smearing the next blurt of precum around. “So pretty,” he murmurs.

“Please, Sir.” Steve’s voice sticks a little bit in his mouth, like he needs a drink of water, and he licks his lips before he says again, “Please, lemme cum.”

Bucky hums as if he’s actually considering it (he isn’t). “Maybe,” he purrs. He lets go of his cock and strokes his balls instead, one hand holding the full weight of his sac while the other feathers light touches over the delicate skin. Steve’s got big, tight balls that always look plump and pulled up close to his body, but especially so when he’s been deprived of an orgasm for a few days. And right now, they’re coming up on twelve days. “Just think,” Bucky murmurs, “think of all the cum that’s backed up in here right now. Cause you cum a lot, Stevie, don’t you?”

Steve whimpers and gives a sad little nod.

Bucky grins and makes a mocking sound of pity. “Yeah, poor baby. They must be sore, huh? So full, so hot and tight. Are they, Honey? All hot n’ tight?”

“Please, yes, please.”

“Just aching to get some release.” He circles lazily around the shape of his balls underneath the skin, one side and then the other. “And you want to cum so bad. I don’t blame you.” He titters and lets go of his sac, because that’s a major erogenous zone for Steve, and Bucky knows he can’t handle having his dick stroked and his balls played with at the same time without going off. “It’s not healthy,” he teases, mock sympathy in his voice as he starts gently stroking him off again. “A boy your age not not gettin’ a good nut out on the regular. If not a couple times a day, then at least once every other day.” Steve whimpers and Bucky grins evilly and pretends to forget. “How many days has it been, again?”

“Twuh–twelve, ssir,”

Bucky sucks his teeth sympathetically. “Oh, that’s right. Twelve. Hmm.” Abruptly, he starts to jerk him off a little harder than he has been doing, giving him more pressure, rubbing at the underside of the head on each upstroke. Steve’s breathing hitches and he tenses up like he thinks this is going to be it: he’s finally going to get to come.

Bucky slows back down to almost nothing, grip loose once again, and Steve makes a sound like a dying cat. Bucky, who lives for getting sounds like that out of Steve, all but purrs in pleasure, feeling high. “I want you to know,” he says, slowly and delicately, making the words into hushed, sweet and deadly things, “that I’m not gonna let you cum this morning.”

He soaks up the devastated little shudder that travels throughout Steve’s body as he processes that, the way his brow gets a disbelieving little pinch in it and then smoothes out with dawning realization that Bucky means what he says. The fight his body wages with his mind to accept it. “Nngh,” he whimpers pitifully. “Puh–please.”

“No, baby.”

“Please, please. Please …” He’s not really begging, is the thing. He tosses his head and fists the sheets, repeating the ‘please’ several times over, helpless and mournful. It’s his way of surrendering to it, his way of accepting what his dominant wants for him, what his dominant is doing to him. The second that Steve accepts that he’s feeling so good and that he’s not going to be given the relief he wants, that Bucky is going to be the one to decide, is the second he really, visibly tips into subspace. “Ohhgn …”

Bucky’s cock throbs angrily as he watches it happen. One second Steve is tense, and the next second he’s just … not. Goosebumps pop up all along his arms and legs, his body going unnaturally still for a few seconds, before it shivers loose into a pile of molten Steve on the bed. Bucky leans forward to cup his cheek, smiling when Steve presses his face into it. “That’s a good boy,” he murmurs fondly. “Juust like that.”

Steve sobs—just once, just a tiny hitch in his breath—and tears well up at the corners of his eyes. One of them breaks and rolls down and hits Bucky’s metal finger, and that’s about the exact moment when Bucky hits domspace.

People say you shouldn’t compare domspace to doing drugs, but Bucky’s done some drugs, and he knows it is exactly like being high. The best high you ever had, but sexual, and focused. Bucky feels charged and euphoric, completely zeroed into his sub and his reactions. He thumbs away Steve’s tears and gets his flesh hand back on his dick, feeling elated. “Okay sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Tell me when you’re ready for another.”

Steve whimpers, and they get back to it.

Steve is a useless mess by the time ten rolls around, and after number fifteen Bucky starts to worry that Steve won’t remember to verbalize when he’s close. Not because he’s trying to disobey, but because he’s just so far under. Wanting to end things on a good note, Bucky stops edging him after they narrowly avert crisis at sixteen, Steve’s face red and covered in tears, his body shaking while he cries. Bucky lies out on top of him and kisses him all over his face and neck and shoulders until he’s calmed down some.

Steve is still in his head, very dumb and pliant and happy, even once his cock goes soft. Bucky, buzzing with his own high, proceeds to take care of his boy in all the other ways that also matter. He feeds Steve water and a piece of chocolate straight from his tongue, puts him in the shower and washes him. He bends him over the bed and lubes him up and plugs him with the big, squishy day plug.

He has Steve lie on his back with his head out over the edge of the mattress and softly feeds him his cock. "Take it ... there you go ... jus' like that, oh ... good boy." Steve's gag reflex, normally just as stubborn as the rest of him, always goes dormant when he's down; his mind turning into soft, sticky molasses, and his body following suit. He goes lax and soft, easily accepting Bucky's thick cockhead past his parted lips, over his tongue and soft palate. His throat even feels relaxed when Bucky presses all the way in, his balls smushing against Steve's face and his hand gently massaging the front of his neck. "Takin' me so good, doll," Bucky praises, and he softly fucks his face in measured thrusts until he feels his orgasm coalesce at the base of his spine, down into his balls, pulling up into his core, electric and hot. "Oh yeah," he groans quietly, sighing as he comes down his boy's throat. Steve takes it like a champ, and Bucky pulls out and holds his jaw shut, petting him soothingly. “Shhh. Swallow it now, baby. Lemme see that throat working.”

Steve does. Bucky collapses onto the bed next to him and lies there, toying with Steve’s tight and full balls until he feels himself come back down a bit from domspace. “How you doing, babe?” he says from down by Steve’s shins.

“Mmm.”

“Still down?”

“Hhhn.”

Bucky chuckles and pats the top of Steve’s thigh. “Okay big guy. Okay.” He heaves himself up to go and find some sweats to throw on. They've got a nice, long, relaxing day ahead of them, and he's really looking forward to it.

Masterlist

If you liked what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in my Kofi🍵 cup. It's a big part of what allows me to take time to write. Thanks!

#stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #D/s #dom/sub #my fics #d/s au #d/s relationship #dom bucky barnes #sub steve rogers #shrunkyclunks #fanfiction #stucky fanfiction #mcu #marvel #steve rogers #bucky barnes

[hellsbeenbettersincehesplit]

Cross-posting This Gilded Weight! (The og post was being weird when i tried to edit it so this gets its own post lol) It's my drabble collection exploring snapshots of Vaggie's pre-canon development from her fall to the show pilot. This is the last of my already-posted works that I'm cross-posting over here, the rest will be new stuff. Hope y'all enjoy!

This Gilded Weight

This had to be a nightmare.

Nightmares don’t exist in Heaven, so this was a first, but this had to be one. Vaggie is (was?) an exterminator. Exterminators don’t have weaknesses and don’t show sympathy to dangerous, evil sinners.

At least it was unrealistic- she would never really fall. Her? Over a child’s soul? The idea was laughable. So Vaggie wasn’t stranded wingless on a random street in Hell, and she’d just wait this out. That’s how nightmares work, right?

She wiped tears and golden blood from her face.

No need to worry. She’s be fine once she woke up.

Vaggie drifted in and out of sleep. She couldn’t tell which was real and which was a dream.

In one world, she couldn’t stand and her eye wouldn’t work. But a beautiful woman was feeding her soup and saying soothing words. It… wasn’t awful.

In another world, the extermination was ongoing and she had to kill someone she cared for again and again. It’d always end with harsh words and horrible pain.

She didn’t know which half she should hope was real. In the one she was spending more and more time in, at least she hadn’t killed a child.

Vaggie felt the loss of her wings with every step.

Her back muscles were made to accommodate large wings which held a considerable amount of her body mass. Her steps were too light. On her lower back, the remaining muscle complained from lack of use. Even breathing was different on the ground.

Vaggie kept losing her balance. She’d nearly fall and try to flap wings that weren’t there. She hoped Charlie found it endearingly clumsy, not suspicious. And the phantom pain was horrible.

Hell wasn’t as bad as she’d thought, but she wished she’d been able to keep her wings.

It hadn’t occurred to Vaggie that Charlie didn’t instantly know she was an exorcist- she looked like one and was found near her armor, it wasn’t hard to tell. But by now… it was far too late.

Part of it was safety. Charlie was the princess of hell. Demons couldn’t hurt angels, but Vaggie was vulnerable enough that one could find a way. And if Lucifer found out his daughter befriended an exorcist?

She wasn’t ready to die yet.

More importantly… Charlie saw something good in Vaggie. She couldn’t let that disappear.

What Charlie didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, right?

“Don’t worry,” Charlie kept saying at the next extermination. “They can’t go after us.“

A dark cloud of angels descended upon Hell. Ice filled Vaggie’s veins.

Longing pooled in her chest. She wanted to be with them. More accurately- she wanted things to be like before.

It didn’t matter. They’d never take her back.

She couldn’t look away.

Charlie’s arm settled across her shoulder. Soft hands ran through her hair.

“It’s ok to be scared.”

Vaggie rested her head on Charlie’s shoulder. Tarlike guilt filled her chest. Charlie would disappear if she knew the truth. She accepted the comfort anyway.

“… and we’ll have lessons and team exercises and-”

“Charlie,” Vaggie interrupted. “Sinners can’t be redeemed.”

“I have to do something! It’s not fair to just let them die.”

“It’s not,” Vaggie agreed. “But… everyone is here for a reason. People don’t change here.” 

“They might try if there was hope! Don’t you wish you went to heaven?”

“Heaven wouldn’t take me. Not after what I’ve done.” Not a lie, just… misleading.

“But-“

She squeezed Charlie’s hand. “Besides, I’d have to leave you.” Vaggie already regretted her next words. “But… if anyone could do this, it’s you. I’ve got your back. ”

In her time in hell, she’d only met one other fallen angel. She’d gotten a message on sinstagram asking to meet with her. They’d agreed to meet in an alley for privacy.

The other looked… different. Orange hair, scarlet feathers instead of grey.

She still had her wings.

“It’s so hard to find us,” the other had mentioned. “What type?”

“Exterminator.”

“Same.” Vaggie looked her up and down with suspicion, a familiar ache on her shoulders. “Hell changes you.”

“You got to keep your wings?”

“They took yours?“

Vaggie didn’t reach out again. Why remind herself of all she’d lost?

She missed heaven.

Of course she did. It was the best place in the universe. But on a more personal level… she missed heaven home.

She’d had a dove stuffed animal when she was a baby, named Mary. She kept it for years and lost it when she needed it most.

Where she first scraped her knee, the arena she used to spar in, where she’d met her first crush… just gone.

When she was bedridden, Vaggie had begun teaching herself how to draw. One day, her mental image of Heaven wouldn’t be so clear. She’d need something besides memories.

Friendships are a strange thing in Hell. Trust is scarce. Once you have it, the friendship stays.

“I hear the radio demon’s back,” a friend mentioned over coffee. “After seven years!”

Vaggie looked over her shoulder just in case. “Heard where?”

“Just rumors right now.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.”

There was a shift in the atmosphere. The look on their face was deadly serious as they forewarned, “If you ever meet him, don’t trust him, don’t give him an inch, and never make a deal.”

In hell, you listen to warnings the first time.

”I won’t,” Vaggie promised.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Angel Dust held up the pig. “Fat nuggets stays, or I go.”

Charlie looking at Vaggie the way that made her resolve disappear. “Look at that little face!”

“We can’t keep a pig in our hotel.”

“He’s well-behaved?”

“Alright, he can stay!” Charlie decided.

This was unsustainable. Vaggie knew how important this was to Charlie, but where was the line? Couldn’t this effort go towards finding residents who would try?

But… Charlie looked so proud as Angel Dust entered his room. This wouldn’t work, but if it made Charlie happy, she’d put everything into it anyway.

#vaggie #charlie morningstar #chaggie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin hotel vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #hazbin charlie #charlie #vagasaurus #fanfic

[elmhat]

20 Questions For Writers

Thanks @bleue-flora & @midnight-fangirl01 for the tags!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

16 published so far! Although 2 of those are incomplete and it annoys me endlessly. I'm working on it.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

105k… That's definitely not a lot compared to some people, but for me that's insane. The most I've ever written in my life and it's all for fucking minecraft rp.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

DSMP! And nothing else! I'm a one-trick pony.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

hallow the foul - Yeah, this is one of the unfinished ones… It hurts me so much that I haven't given it an ending yet, but I really do plan to! It's just not a quick task. c!Loudduo my beloveds. <3

candlelight - Probably one of my best (finished) works honestly: the mandatory Syndicate c!Dream fic. There's a lot I'd change now but I'm glad that I wrote it and that people resonated with it so much!

the new plan - It's cool that this one blew up so much! It's a little random. My fic for an event about c!Dream and c!Punz about a year ago.

in porcelain and steel - Just a little collection of my c!Dream drabbles.

good authority - I didn't expect this one to be on here! My first ever fic, just a short c!Dream and c!Slime oneshot. I really want to write more of their duo at some point.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I think it's something I told myself I'd do early on. If someone takes the time to read and appreciate my writing, I want them to know that I appreciate them too.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ooh, that's a hard one, because I haven't finished writing (or even started posting—) most of my angstiest fics. Am I allowed to say hallow the foul? I have the ending planned and it's not happy.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

If we're talking about longer fics, probably phantom pains? "Happy" might not be the right word, since the plan is literally to continue down the road that's destroying c!Dream's life, but uh. He's pretty excited about it!

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

I don't think I ever have! Y'all are the sweetest.

9. Do you write smut?

Nope, not my thing.

10. Do you write crossovers?

DSMP is definitely my main interest, so I haven't really felt the need to.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of? (Please let me know if you see this happening lmao.)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but it sounds cool!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Not yet… I've kind of taken on a hundred fandom projects at once, so it's not my priority right now, but it sounds like something really fun I could do in the future, if anyone's willing. There are so many amazing writers in this community.

14. What‘s your all-time favorite ship?

I don't really do romantic ships, sorry. But for platonic duos, c!loudduo forever.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

hallow the foul 😭

No, I WILL. I might have to drag my face through several miles of mud to do it, but it will all be worth it. (Just please don't hold your breath.)

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Probably dialogue? That's what I get compliments for lol. I've watched so many hours of streams that I think their voices are baked into my skull.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Am I allowed to say not finishing projects ajskhdhkj. Otherwise, I guess maybe my internal monologue? I think some of my writing is a little boring, a little clunky in places, but I often just don't have the willpower to fix it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't really understand the question but uh, sure!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

DSMP. Lol.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

It depends. I love hallow the foul for sentimental value but I also slightly hate it. I'm proud of candlelight but I kind of keep forgetting I wrote it akjshdk. Genuinely, I think it's probably triquetra! It's really important to me. (That's not counting any of the hundreds of wips y'all don't know about yet.)

~

I won't tag anyone specific—if you want to answer these questions then you can say I tagged you!

#elm ask games #random elm thoughts #elm fics

[arcplaysgames]

yo do y'all wanna see the most awkward conversation in the history of mankind

This fucking cafe date is like sitting with the two finalists for the Stepford Smiler competition. Also both of them have this nigh-identical false edge to their voices, like they both would rather be having a glass sundae than be sitting here. I have no idea what the fuck is going on but the vibes are Atrocious.

Anyway, Kasumi thinks that the Thieves are nice in theory but if they become a certainty in society, everyone will get worse because there will be no impetus to improve yourself when there's a phantom safety net.

Which I don't wanna be mean to Kasumi, she seems nice, but she sounds like a Centrist a bit lmao. The Thieves' actions in best case scenario would be propelled by failures in the system that necessitate extra judicial intervention. At the moment, that's not really the case and I think the biggest fault the Thieves have is their interest in fame and success. That in of itself is a very loud recurring drumbeat so I think the game actually intends to contend with that.

I'm developing a theory, and basically it's that Akechi closes his eyes and smiles every time he's Fucking Lying.

Speaking of, I got the arcade date and wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.

Eyes open.

Eyes closed.

You know, Adachi being Fuckt snuck up on me through P4G because at the start it manifested mostly as a hapless ditz who had a really weird mean streak.

Akechi tho. He is a walking alarm bell. I think if I was walking down the street at night and he was coming towards me, I'd walk to the other side. There is something deeply unsettling about him.

Also the joke about shooting Reverie. /sucks on teeth

What I know about Reverie's situation from the framing device and the cold open is that he was doing a heist and then he was betrayed and got captured.

There are still more party members incoming, i think Kiore said 3 or 4 more. However, I can't help but be fairly certain who did it already.

I just don't know why. He already has a quiet simmering hatred of the Thieves that I don't really understand yet. Unless he's working with Sae's boss and is part of this big conspiracy thing to do something.

Otherwise... I can see a situation in which Akechi baits the thieves (maybe baits them into doing that big casino heist) and his ulterior goal is to capture the Thieves? Bc he does seem obsessed with his Performance as the Detective Prince.

I don't know. All I do know is Akechi is the most Stepford Wife guy of all fucking time.

But also he def wants to tap dat ass. That too.

Now onto the OTHER siren alarm of a human being.

Maruki is actively a terrible therapist, it's kind of amazing. He's so intensely unprofessional all the time, he had a whole convo with Makoto where he kept making judgements on what she was saying instead of directing the session, he inserts himself into the conversation constantly. He's a BAD THERAPIST.

and THEN

WHO IS THE VILLAIN OF THIS FUCKING GAME

IS IT THE FUTURE PRIME MINISTER CONSPIRACY GUY

IS IT WHOEVER IS PRETENDING TO BE IGOR IN THE VELVET ROOM

IS IT AKECHI WHO HAS FUCKING VIBES

OR IS IT THE SOFTBOI THERAPIST WHO WANTS TO BRAINWASH EVERYONE INTO HAPPINESS BC BOO HOO PAIN IS SCARY

jesus CHRIST

at least I feel reeeeeeeeeasonably confident that this game isn't going to have an Izanami ass-pull eleventh hour villain reveal because they are setting up OPTIONS already

tho god i hope i haven't just jinxed it /knocks aggressively on wood

#p5 #persona liveblog

[writeforfandoms]

🦐 anon’s addition of the combined DNA has me goin’ buck wild at 1am (can’t sleep). The pain that kind of person would be in? The madness? 3 different creatures under your skin that aren’t supposed to be there. The feeling of skin splitting to accommodate wings, the way they itch under the skin to be released. The ghosts of teeth that shouldn’t be there, the overheating from fur that isn’t there (thank you 🫧 anon!!), the feeling of phantom claws. Tentacles and fins lurking just bellow the skin. And a skittish nature to boot?! OH! My heart!

Can you imagine other hybrids? Maybe some kind of hawk/poison frog/wolf combo? Toxic to the touch, a great sense of smell, vision, and flight?

Like 🫧 anon said, the phantom weight of wings and itchy feathers. Too many smells and sounds constantly overwhelming their senses, giving them major headaches. They’re poisonous to the touch part means that they’re covered up like Rogue from the X-men so they don’t hurt those around them. But that toxic touch puts them at war with the wolf that wants to snuggle with the pack, leaving a person who’s great in hand-to-hand combat (remove the gloves, get a good hit and your opponent is OUT). But terrible at normal pack socializing.

🦝🦝🦝

Oh man y'all are out for blood with these I swear. I love it

Yeah there are so many combinations. The other thing is, nobody knows how exactly they're going to manifest, especially when they shift (as much as they can anyway). So a hawk/wolf/poison frog might not get wings or might not be able to fly. Might have a beak instead of jaws and fangs. Probably will be poisonous to the touch but also consider: sticky pads on hands and feet, like frogs. Probably quiet, good eyesight, good sense of smell. But gets overwhelmed very quickly. Probably could be used for stealth ops... assuming they don't go nuts from the conflicting natures.

But you would absolutely have a situation like you mentioned, needs to be fully covered but also wants pack cuddles, and is almost certainly too scared to join in. Desperately does not want to hurt people but can't seem to help it. Just. The angsttttttt

#🦝 anon #shifter au

[cat3ch1sm]

🐢| hey guys, happy mother's day!! i woke up and decided to hurt y'all pika simps personally and wrote an angsty sad fic abt kurapika

enjoy bc i definitely did not cry writing this

It was quiet in the cemetery, the only sounds being the gentle breeze in the trees and the soft chirping of fluttering birds nearby. Total isolation- most of the time, being alone like this would have calmed Kurapika Kurta, allowed him to take breaks he was very rarely given. The colorful flowers blooming around him as he sat in the grass and the sweet, dewy early-morning scent added to the soothing ambience of the place- it almost made him forget that there were bodies, hundreds of them, rotting and dying and decomposing just beneath the green grass he sat on now.

Almost.

Now, however, Kurapika just felt empty. He didn't feel at all comforted. He felt as if something was eerily off, although he knew there wasn't.

Kurapika hadn't been to visit the graves of his clan in a shamefully long time. After he had buried every last one of them himself, at an age no more than around thirteen, he had been so consumed with rage that it hadn't occured to him to do and mourn them properly. Perhaps it was the closure he didn't receive that fueled his fury as he blindly stuck down everyone who dared impede his mission to murder the Phantom Troupe and recover the eyes of his family. And then he'd grown occupied with his job, and everything had just piled up to an overwhelming point- but of course, Kurapika didn't dare let this be known.

He thought about them every day. There wasn't a single second the Kurta Clan wasn't on his mind. But whenever he tried to recall the blissful memories he'd made with them before, the only thing that came up was the macabre image of the corpses of his friends, his companions, eyes brutally harvested from their sockets and blood splattered all over every inch of their cold, gray bodies.

If Kurapika were ever to go insane, it would be that memory that was responsible.

Every time he thought of the name Kurta, he thought of the beaten corpses with their missing eyes; many of the bodies' faces were still contorted into the horrid expressions they'd worn when they had realized they weren't going to live any longer.

Pairo's face had looked like that.

So had his mother's.

It had become physically painful to remember it at this point- Kurapika had to fight the urge to vomit whenever he recalled it.

Kurapika had never been one to express how he felt about his past except his ongoing quest for vengeance. It had all been shrouded with anger, fury, pain, rage, despair, and all he could do was suppress it- every day, another piece of him vanished, and Kurapika was losing the energy to fight it. As much as he despised himself for even thinking it, he was getting tired of it all.

He was all alone- and he wasn't even able to rely on himself completely anymore. He was losing himself every day, descending into miserable madness.

Well, now he'd just made himself feel worse.

Normally he would have squashed the thought immediately. But now that he was completely alone... he wished someone would comfort him.

Kurapika wanted to be held and told that everything would be okay.

But, as he realized every day, there was nobody to do that anymore. There never would be ever again.

He missed his mother so much it hurt.

Kurapika could hear her sweet, gentle voice now, whispering to him that it would be alright someday. They would meet again soon. But for now, she would say, he would have to keep fighting. For her and for Pairo.

I know you can do it, she'd say with a smile that could light up an entire night sky.

"But... I don't know if I still want to," Kurapika whispered aloud, hearing his own voice break. That was something he hadn't heard in a while. He had no idea when was the last time he cried.

Instinctively, Kurapika bit his lower lip roughly, trying to regain his composure. But he realized there was no need to.

A single tear slid down his cheek as he finally dropped his head, bouquet of baby pink blossoms in hand as his shoulders began to shake in utter despair. Kurapika was so tired of being angry, so tired of being hurt, so tired of being in pain. An alarming red haze had already clouded his vision, and his eyes were burning. No new sensation there.

Closing his stinging eyes, hot tears flowing steadily down his cheeks, he tried to imagine his mother holding him as a child, rocking him back and forth as his head rested on her chest, whispering over and over that everything was okay. She would understand. She might ease his pain, if only for a little while.

But she wasn't here.

Kurapika opened his eyes.

"I miss you." Kurapika leaned forward, the tip of his nose touching the cold tombstone and pink flowers sprouting around him, petals tickling his skin through his black suit. His eyes rested on the inscription on the tombstone- it was only her name.

"I love you, Mama," he whispered as a tear fell from his chin down onto the grass in front of his mother's tombstone. "And I wish you- I wish you knew how badly I want you here."

Quivering only slightly, Kurapika set his bouquet of flowers in front of the stone before sitting up and letting out a shaky exhale, his tear-streaked face as stony as ever.

"Happy Mother's Day."

#kurapika fic #kurapika x reader #kurapika hxh #kurapika x you #kurapika kurta x reader #kurapika angst #tears were shed writing this #kurapika kurta #kurta clan #kurapika kurta x you #kurapika kurta fic

[alpimerealmsystem]

Another Interview (With an objectkin!)

I gotta interview an objectkin- way too long ago- but motivation has struck, so enjoy my late night posts (I'm about to go ahead and write a lot y'all) credit to @sufficientlyarmored for answering these questions! Also, seriously I hope others can learn about this stuff the way I now am now that I've gotten to interview people!

Alright so first question: What made you realize you were objectkin and how had it affected you before?

A couple of things connected to each other made me realise that. I was always interested in all things military when I was a kid, and they fascinated me (to a borderline romantic degree). When I was around high school, or near the end of it, my friends were always making comments that I like tanks so much that I want to become one! I took that in stride and jokingly embraced it, not knowing how much actual truth there was in this statement ;) Personal circumstances made me make a, frankly, terrible decision and enlist. My fascination and knowledge of tanks made me go into the direction of armoured fighting vehicles (and I have been there ever since), but there was always something that I was missing. My introduction to otherkin was swift and unproblematic, as I researched the topic I immediately realised that was what I have been feeling all this time. Despite the apparent ‘’seniority’’ I am still new to the community due to me not being online all that often :(

Second question: What's your connection? Spiritual, psychological, anything in between? And how did you come to that conclusion?

As for connection, I think spiritual would be the best term for that! Among my ‘kins I have a few other machines other than the Challenger 2 tank. The only commonality among them is the fact that all of them were destroyed, sunk or dismantled violently. And all of them were machines used primarily for war, violence and such. I like to think that my current existence is a sort of painful purgatory, a payback for all the lives and damage I did previously. Mostly because, well.. no sane machine, a being of metal and precision, would want to become something as soft and damageable as a human, right? The sheer whiplash of simple things not working as intended/expected, or working in such imprecise and wet way is extremely uncomfortable at all times.

Third question (I ask this to everyone cause it's honestly awesome to me): if you experience shifts, what are they like? Are they mental shifts, phantom limbs, etc? If you do get shifts, is there anything specific thing you think is interesting?

My shifts are mostly phantom limbs, from which the most prominent one is a fully-featured Challenger 2 turret (with a 1,5 metre long gun..) instead of my head. It is annoying, big, rigid, heavy and the gun is bumping into everything, as it is unbendable, but I like them even then. They make me remember who I am :)

Fourth and final question: What's your relation to the object you identify as, and what's a reason you think it's so relevant?

My relation is mostly admiration, deep sense of being proud that humanity managed to make something as sophisticated as this, and a weird warped sense of patriotism ;) I think this being relevant is that I both am the object in question, and both work on the objects in question in real life, which makes my experiences all more interesting. Sometimes I am feeling like I am both the human-shaped me, and both the tank-shaped me while standing in front of, well, myself!

#therianthropy #otherkin #therian #alterhuman #therian community #otherkin community #Objectkin #Alterhuman #alterhuman community #Alterhumanity #nonhuman #nonhuman community #Otherkinity #Sin And Their Mission