#Raine the thinner brush

[rinslutz]

hello! If requests are still open how about a hurt/comfort fic where geto and reader were in a relationship before he left. After geto leaves, gojo and reader help each other deal with geto's absence and they eventually fall for each other many years later.

(sorry if that was confusing 💀)

ᥫ᭡ “BURY A FRIEND” — GOJO SATORU

ㅤꞋꞌꞋꞌ fem!reader, friends to lovers, character death

a/n: not too sure if i like how this turned out.

gojo lost two friends the day geto made his choice. you lost a friend and someone who you thought was the love of your life. you weren’t his though. he made that obvious when he left without a “goodbye.”

when geto left you disappeared too. for a while, satoru wasn’t sure if you were dead or alive. eventually, you showed up at his apartment one day, drenched in the downpour of rain. your eyes were bloodshot red and you were thinner than when he last saw you. this was a familiar sight and he wouldn’t let this be a repeat of last time. he refuses to miss the signs that he did in his best friend.

since then, you rarely spend time apart. any time not spent at school is spent at either of your apartments. eventually, the familiar laughter and happiness returned between you two. you didn’t think it ever would but satoru had made it his mission to make you happy again.

unfortunately, happiness doesn’t always last very long.

“he’s dead.” for a second you’re not sure you’ve heard him correctly. gojo doesn’t say anything else and neither do you. suddenly everything and every sound is overwhelming. the quiet clicking of your watch, the low hum of your refrigerator, your heart pounding in your chest. every sound is louder than usual.

“i’ll be there soon.” you don’t need to say anything. gojo can hear your shaky breathing and maybe your pounding heart too. gojo is barely holding himself together, but he knows that if you sense even the smallest quiver in his voice you’ll break down. so, he swallows the growing lump in his throat before hanging up.

gojo expects to find you in a puddle of tears when he arrives at your apartment. somehow, what he finds is much worse in his eyes. you sit as still as possible on your sofa, emotionless eyes staring blankly ahead of you. you make no movement even as he grabs your shoulder. he invades your line of sight, and the look in your eyes makes his heart drop.

he can’t lose you again. he can tell that if he loses you to this there's no coming back. he grabs your face in both of his hands and forces you to look at him. it’s almost as if you’re looking right through him.

“hey, can you look at me please.” his voice is soft as he pleads with you. finally, your head shifts a bit and your eyes focus on his. immediately, thick tears stream down your cheeks. he lets you cry but he doesn’t dare remove his hands from your face.

“did you get to speak with him?” through your tears there’s a hopeful look in your eyes. he knows what you’re hoping to hear and it hurts him that he can’t tell you what you want to hear.

“yes, but he didn’t say anything about you.” and for a second he thinks that he should’ve lied. he should’ve told you that suguru asked about you, said that he missed you, said that he still loved you. he can’t lie to you. he’s never been great at it anyway. you’d see right through him.

you just nod in response. you brush away your tears with your knuckles.

“i figured.” you smile sadly. he places a kiss against your forehead in response. for a second you stiffen. he’s never done anything like that. he pulls back, startled by his own actions.

“sorry, that was a mistake. i’m not sure why i did that.” he laughs awkwardly. maybe today is full of mistakes. maybe you both aren’t sure how to deal with today’s events.

you pull him into a kiss. maybe you’re an idiot for this and maybe gojo is too because he kisses you back. his hands move from your cheeks to your forearms. the pads of his fingers softly dig into your skin. his grip on your arms is so tight it’s as if he’s afraid of you slipping away.

“i love you.” gojo whispers into your mouth. he immediately wishes had kept his mouth shut. he wishes he didn’t have to kill his best friend earlier today because then he wouldn’t be here. he wouldn’t be here confessing his love to his best friend’s ex.

satoru leaves without another word and he’s sure he’s lost you for the second time.

there has never been an awkward moment between you and satoru, but recently he just hasn’t been able to look you in your eyes. the first time you saw him after that night, he pretend the kiss never happened. he pretended suguru’s death never happened. he was back to his playful ways. you know him though. you can see in his eyes how much pain he’s in. you can see the longing in his eyes when he looks at you.

you wonder if that longing look has always been in his eyes. maybe you were too in love with suguru to notice. maybe gojo has been good at hiding it all this time, but now that he’s had a taste of you he can’t any longer.

satoru hasn’t spent any prolonged time with you since that night. you miss him. you miss the way he easily brightens your mood. you miss your daily hangouts. you miss the way his lips felt. if it wasn’t for the way his eyes light up when he sees you, you would assume that he doesn’t miss you as much as you miss him. you’re determined to make him talk to you even if you have to tie him down.

satoru is going insane. he never thought someone’s lips could feel so perfect against his. when he’s not fighting a curse or teaching his student he’s thinking about you. but sometimes thoughts of you slip in during those times despite how much he tries to push them away.

he misses you. sometimes when he’s driving home he catches himself heading to your apartment instead. in the past couple of years, since suguru left, he’s spent most of his time there. even now that he’s avoiding you, he always finds himself near you. it’s like his body is gravitating toward yours.

he’s embarrassed and scared if he’s being honest. he’s convinced himself that you're disgusted by him kissing you that night. he thinks that despite how you still smile at him when you try to speak to him. though your smile immediately drops when he finds an excuse to escape a conversation with you.

as you walk towards him, a look of determination on your face, he can tell that this conversation is going to go differently.

“when are you going to stop avoiding me and put on your big boy pants and have an adult conversation with me?” you cut right to the chase. no ‘hello’, no greeting of any kind. gojo smiles though, despite how embarrassed he is.

“someone’s feeling feisty today.” this is the first thing gojo has said to you that wasn’t ‘sorry gotta go.’ you’re still angry with him. he’s avoiding the question like you knew he would.

“you told me you love gojo,” you say as if he doesn’t know. he knows, it's all he’s been thinking about.

“you can’t say you love me and then not speak to me for a week.” you’re hurt, he can tell by the tone of your voice. he looks away and you think he’s going to leave again.

“i’m sorry. it’s just..i know this is probably too much for you right now-”

“i love you too.” this time gojo is not sure he heard you correctly. this must be a dream and soon he’ll way up in his bed, alone as usual.

you walk closer to him and the hardened look in your eyes is gone. and for the first time, you look at him with that familiar look. the look you always gave his best friend. that’s what makes this even harder.

“if you hadn’t run off I would’ve said it back that night.” you jab a finger against his chest but your eyes are still soft. though, the look on your face has changed. it’s not that familiar look anymore. it's different. it's new. it’s only for him.

“i love you satoru,” you say softly.

gojo is tired of avoiding you, of avoiding his feelings. he’s tired of his body gravitating towards yours and having to fight it. he’s tired of missing you. so, he tilts your head back by your chin, he pecks your nose before slotting his lips against yours.

he has you now and he’s not tired anymore.

©rinslutz

[oncasette]

𝗟𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗥𝗬 𝗗𝗔𝗬

bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

summary: 1.3k.

“Honey, baby, sweetie pie. Light of my life. What were you expecting? No panties and my academy shirt?” 

or the one where bradley comes home to find you washing some clothes. literally this is just smut babes. 

warnings: smut, literally pwp, oral (f! recieving), short n sweet n to the point baby

masterlist | taglist

You were out of clothes. Totally, completely, out of underwear, out of clothes. 

The only clean thing you could find was a pair of plaid pajama pants you’d stolen from your roommate in college and one of Bradley’s old naval academy tees, and while it wasn’t your most fashionable combo, it would have to make do for the couple hours it was going to take you to do laundry. 

You’d just gotten your first load—of five, you’d already separated them—in the wash when you heard the key turning in the front door down the hall. 

Odd. Bradley’s never home before five on weekdays. And it was one. 

“Sweetheart?” you heard him call out. Yeah, it was definitely Brad. 

“Mud room!” you replied before tucking the detergent back onto the shelf. 

You heard him drop his keys in the bowl, his duffle by the door. His shoes must’ve been kicked off, too, because you hadn’t heard them clunking down the hall before he snuck up behind you. 

“Don’t you look sexy,” he whispered, mustache brushing against your ear as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You can feel his flight suit bunched up around his waist, tied there to give his torso more direct contact with you through the thinner fabric of his t-shirt. 

“Shut up-“

“No, I’m being serious,” he chuckled. His thumbs are hooked into the waistband of your pants. Before long, all of his fingers are pushing past the elastic. 

He’s not even trying to get in your pants, really, he’s just always had a fixation with skin-to-skin. Whenever possible, he’s pushing your clothes out of the way to palm at your skin. 

“You’re home early,” you hummed, relaxing back into his embrace. 

“Training got rained out,” he said, punctuated by a distant crackle of thunder. Huh, you hadn’t noticed it was storming. Probably due to your dirty laundry debacle. 

“Good day, then?” He was always a little more chipper when it stormed. He loved flying, you knew that, but you also knew those bonus days off didn’t hurt him, either. 

“Better now that I know you’re not wearing any panties,” he said, his lips catching the edge of your jaw. You can already feel the semi he’s rocking against your ass. 

The washing machine shook violently as Bradley slowly walked the both of you forward until your front was pressed against it. His right hand had shifted, now fully on track to cup your bare heat with his calloused fingers. He was nothing if not efficient

“Bradley,” you panted. God, you forgot how big his hands were sometimes. His index finger just barely brushed your clit on its journey down, sending your hips jolting forward into them. 

“Just be good for me, honey,” he murmured. 

“Fuck me,” you groaned. He dipped two of his fingers down into your slick, spreading your essence so that he could circle your nub with ease. 

“Trust me. I’m trying,” he mumbled, hips jumping to push you further into the vibrations of the machine. 

“Don’t get all smart with me,” you said. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love my mouth,” he said only to then attach said mouth to the hinge of your jaw. His other hand slips out of your waistband to push the thin fabric of his old shirt up your body until it's bunched above your bra-less tits. 

His thumb replaces his index finger as he slides the rest of his digits lower until they’re barely brushing against your entrance. You can practically taste the whine that was building up at the base of your throat, but God if he doesn’t move his fingers, you might actually implode. 

It was unfair how quickly he was able to work you up, if you were being honest. 

“Don’t be mean,” you whimpered as his fingers dipped back up to circle your clit once more only to abruptly rip his hand away from your core completely a second later. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he pulls back from you enough to spin you around, lips finding yours the second you were facing him. 

You’re still being pressed into the washer, legs caging you in as his hands find solace against your hip bones and he licks into your mouth. He’s so warm, even with the storm raging outside and the rain having dampened his hair slightly. Always running hot. 

“You’re such a tease, you know that,” you breathed against his lips. 

“Says you,” he said, shuffling the two of you over to the inactive dryer before tapping his hand against your hip. “Jump for me, baby.” 

It takes him a second, having you up there and slightly above him, before he’s dropping to his knees and tugging your pants down. It isn’t as sexy as you know he wanted it to be. It takes a good bit of fidgeting and adjusting for you to get the damn things over your ass enough to pull them down your legs, and you wonder, for a second, if it would’ve just been easier to take them off when you were still standing. But, he’s so eager the thought flits out of your head before you have time to pay it any attention. 

“Please,” you exhaled as he inched closer to you. Lips on the bend of your knee, hands atop of each of your respective thighs to keep them separated. 

“What do you want?” he asked as he trailed his lips further up your thigh. So far you could feel his breath fanning against your weeping slit only to skip right over it and descend down your opposite leg. 

“You know what I want,” you said. His stalled, breathing hitched as he adjusts himself on his knees. 

“Need to hear you say it. Wanna hear you say it for me,” he mumbled as you threaded your fingers through his hair. It was so pretty like this, all sunkissed and blonde. 

“Want you to touch me. Eat my pussy, fuck, anything you’re willing to give me,” you said finally. 

Instead of responding, he fully leaned in to lick a stripe up your cunt with the flat of his tongue. God, he’s so good with his mouth. His nose catches your clit, bumping it as his mouth moves down to probe your entrance like his fingers had not even five minutes ago. 

“Bradley, please.” His hands are anchored to your thighs, thumbs rubbing absentminded circles onto the exposed skin. 

“Got you, baby, promise,” he mumbled, sending a pulse of vibrations through you. 

He gave in then, delving into your pussy with his tongue. He’d never been able to deny you for very long. Not with the breathy moans you let slip when he kissed you, or the way you always twitched against his fingers when he touched you. Not with the way you begged him so prettily. 

He brings his left hand up to rub your already throbbing clit with his thumb, the poor thing feeling abused with how hot and cold Bradley had been with it since he walked in the door. It doesn’t take long for that burning wave to start building in your abdomen, not with the way he’s drinking you in, tonguing at your spongy walls. 

“‘M gonna cum,” you whimpered. He groans in reply, not daring to pull his mouth away enough to actually answer you. And you’re glad. You think you would’ve killed him if he pulled away, now. 

It’s a couple more seconds–maybe, if you’re being generous–before you’re spilling onto his tongue, clenching and drooling and fully melting into him. 

“So good for me,” he exhaled, panting as he pushed himself up from the ground to stand between your sticky thighs, jaw shiny and slick with your release. 

“It’s a good thing I’m washing my clothes right now, or I’m sure I would’ve had to throw out another pair right then,” you said before he leaned in to peck your lips. 

“Hmm, clean underwear is overrated,” he hummed as you mindlessly fiddled with the hem of his black t-shirt. 

“You’re insatiable,” you say, not even sure you’re completely sated on your end. 

“Honey, baby, sweetie pie. Light of my life. What were you expecting? No panties and my academy shirt?” 

“It’s laundry day!” 

tags-- @zeldaknight @scoopstrooop​ 

[saintship]

Omg so happy you dropped the prompt list! Can i pls request no 18 with Soap? He's just got home quite battered with an overgrown beard, so reader is taking care of him? Just domestic fluff really :D thanks!

Prompt #18 - “Can I help you shave?”

This is sexy. Thank you for the ask<3!

Warnings: description of injury, swearing, kissing, fluff

Soap x Reader - Battered and bearded

You ripped open the envelope as soon as you freed it from the mailbox, pulling out the worn paper as you hurried inside and settled on the couch.

Bonnie,

It’s fuckin crazy here. Hasn’t stopped raining for two weeks, I feel like I’ll never get dry again. We’re almost through the thickest of the jungle, then the exfil’s not far. Miss you more than I miss hot water.

p.s. My beard’s taken over, dunno if you’ll recognize me xx

He’s gone insane. -G

You laughed breathlessly at the small note from his Lieutenant, thumbing over the paper where Soap’s pen had etched. The note about his beard made you curious, you’d never seen it past a thick scruff. You read the letter over again, and again, keeping it near you while you made yourself dinner, while you washed your face, while you slept.

The morning came with a clear sky and chill to the air, your windows fogged slightly from the autumn cold. You were still blinking the sleep from your eyes while the kettle boiled when you heard the crunching of gravel outside. You didn’t make it to the door before the door eased open, and you stopped in your tracks.

He was a hair thinner than you saw him last, his tired eyes shining behind an array of scrapes, cuts, and vibrant bruises. Still, he grinned, with a full, albeit uneven, beard gracing his face.

“Hey there, hen..”

You carefully hugged his waist. “Am I hurting you?” You asked.

He lifted you on the kitchen counter, stepping forward to embrace you properly. “On the contrary.”

His head resting in the curve of your neck, stroking your back softly as he melted in your arms.

“Missed ya..”

“Missed you more..”

He leaned back to look you in the eye, smiling slightly. “We gonna argue this soon?”

“Woah..” You were distracted by his quip with the soft hair that he’d grown over the weeks spent on the move in the jungle, stroking his jaw.

“Ah, I forgot.” He itched the hair that had spread to his neck, squinting. “Didn’t even know it was possible for it to get like this.”

“You look good.” You observe.

“I hate it.”

You smile. “Is it uncomfortable?”

He groaned, running both hands over his face now. “You’ve got no idea..”

“And your hair.. we gotta shave down the sides again, hm?” You brushed through his hair where his mohawk had nearly disappeared. He nodded, closing his eyes as he leaned into your hand.

“Wait, I’ve got to try something.”

He opened his eyes. “What?”

You kissed him gently, humming in decision as you felt the brush of the hair on his upper lip before pulling away. “I don’t like it.”

“I liked it.” He grinned lazily.

“Come on..” You rolled your eyes while smiling, leading him to the bathroom.

He got showered, and you swore he was about to start kicking his leg the way he groaned as you washed his scalp. His chest had also gotten a bit out of control, the patterns of hair thickened so they were raised off the skin. He sat in the bathtub to catch the mess as you trimmed that first, leaving the thin layer that he liked.

“I feel like a barber.”

“I’ve never had a barber feel up my abs.”

“You’re at the wrong places.” You retort, at which he huffed a laugh.

“I think I like this one.”

“Lucky me.” You kiss him quickly, but he pulls you back, one hand stroking the sensitive skin under your jaw. But you hadn’t shaved his face; you pulled away.

“It feels weird.” You quirked your lip in thought as you rinsed the razor, adjusting on the pillow you sat on next to the tub.

“Feels weird to kiss me?” He asked, feign offense lacing his tone.

“Uh-huh.” You confirmed, plugging in the trimmer.

“You’re mean.” He decided.

“The worst." You huffed, leaning over to kiss his temple, then his cheek, then a quick one on his lips.

“You ready?” You flipped the trimmer to ‘on’.

He nodded, and you mowed down the first strip, his usual level of scruff remaining.

“It’s so satisfying..” you murmur.

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself.” He teased.

“I could ruin your life right now.” You warn playfully, holding up your tool.

“Oh, you’re cute.” He brushed your cheek with a knuckle, and you huffed, returning to your task. Eventually, the bulk of it was gone, and he rubbed his face appreciatively. “So itchy..” he murmured. “Ah, crivvens..” he looked into the handheld mirror you’d handed him, tracing the scabs and spots being irritated by the hair. “Will you just do it all for me?”

“Clean shaven?”

He nodded, getting up to rinse. You prepared the shaving cream and razor, waiting patiently as he dried off and hung a towel just below his waist. You whistled lowly, making him roll his eyes.

“Quit it.”

“What?” You feigned ignorance, pulling him closer by the hem of the towel. He smiled back at you, his hands resting on your hips gently.

“Alright..” You layered the bright shaving cream over his face, smacking his chest when he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and got some in his mouth. You got it off his tongue eventually, shaking your head at him. The razor glided down his cheek before you wiped it on the cloth John held for you.

“You’re so beautiful.”

His muttering caught you off guard, but a small smile pulled at your lips.

“Thank you for taking care a’ me.” He said softly. You saw the guilt in his eyes, you knew the words he was holding back, but kissed his freshly shaven cheek anyway.

“I always will.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you noticed a few bruises littering his back. “You got pretty beat up..” you note, gesturing to a colorful bruise on his ribs.

“We had to scale down a ravine to avoid their ground team; we were outnumbered and it was safer to run, but I think Price just wanted to get the hell out..”

You nod, pausing the blade while he spoke.

“I’ll try not to hug you too hard.” You slid the razor down another inch of his cheek, and he laughed slightly through his nose.

You rid his jaw of the last of the scruff and tilted his head up to do his neck.

“Don’t slit my throat, aye?”

“Don’t say that..” You applied the shaving cream a bit more generously.

He smiled at your worry. “You’ll be fine, I’ve cut my neck shaving loads of times.”

“I feel like that’s just a different issue..” you started on his pulse point, gliding the blade gently. The result was a clean shave, the skin paler than his usual tone from so much time spent covered up.

“I did it..”

“Proud a’ you.”

He continued to hold your waist, half to keep you steady and half to feel your skin under his palms for the first time in weeks. You worked the blade over his skin until you could wipe away the product and reveal a smooth face, though small cuts and scrapes were littered throughout.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, smelling the product on his skin and feeling the finish on your cheek.

“It’s so smooth..” you hummed.

“Feels so much better, thank you..” he rubbed at his face, sighing.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

You stroke his face before pressing a kiss to his lips, this time, staying there much longer. His haircut could wait just a bit longer, you thought.

[ramayantika]

Devi Sita (Goddesses, Rishikas & Women)

Spring had passed away with blooming lotuses, mating birds, and the call of the koel. Sita, who adored Vasanta out of all seasons, had to spend the most romantic season in captivity by the fearsome ruler of Lanka.

Not one day went by when Sita could breathe in peace. After turning down his advances, Ravan, in a thundering voice, ordered Sita to be sent to Ashok Vatika and to be continuously tormented every day, every moment, until her strong will breaks.

The Rakshasa clan is a merciless one. Their females, the Rakshasis, even more. Their ruthlessness and barbaric ways are known to strike terror in the hearts of people, and ascetics have always been troubled by their repeated assaults.

The Rakshasis, as per the orders of their king, spent no moment to torment Sita. From throwing icy cold water to wake the drowsy Sita to butchering meat in front of her, on some days where they wanted to play with Sita’s emotions a little more, they would narrate how Ravan would butcher Ram’s flesh in front of her.

Spring passed into summer. The humid climate of Lanka made Sita perspire immensely. Sweat clung to her skin, and the sun shone brightly on the fair princess, who sat silently under the shade of one of the Ashoka trees, her mind constantly thinking about the whereabouts of Rama and Lakshman. The summers were brutal for Sita. Though she had spent so many years in the deep forests, she did have plenty of fresh fruits and water to nourish herself, unlike her situation in Lanka.

The Rakshasis starved her, dehydrated her to a great extent, and laughed when one fiery afternoon she fainted. Only when the Lankan queen Mandodari arrived to visit Sita did the queen strictly order food and fresh water to be brought to Sita.

If the days were filled with terror and threats, the nights, though spent alone, were filled with nightmares for Sita, who often woke up screaming Rama’s name, only to feel the cold, gusty wind brush her slender flesh and the rocky bed under the tree where she took shelter.

Yet, Sita, despite all her mental and physical wounds, always admired the beauty of Ashok Vatika. The clear lakes filled with exotic blooms and beautiful sculptures in dancing poses reminded her of Ayodhya. Marigold bushes reminded me of Mithila. The serene fragrance of the yellow and orange flowers made her fondly think of the garlands she wore around her arms and feet in Panchvati. Sita rarely smiled in the picturesque garden. She never got the chance to sit there happily, but there were rare moments in the company of the lush trees and flowers, like one day when a few squirrels nuzzled to her and she smiled truly and lovingly at the small, adorable creatures.

But living beings are capable of sympathy and pity, even for a brief moment at least, but pity and compassion do arise in their hearts. It could be out of guilt or maybe an honest realisation of their crude actions, but somehow, compassion comes out, and the stony hearts of the Rakshasis did melt a little with the cold, stormy showers of monsoon in Lanka.

One night, a raging storm blew by Lanka. The howling winds had extinguished the fiery torches that lit the gardens and courtyards of the grand palace. The Rakshasis too ventured inside to take cover while a frail Sita sat beneath the same Ashoka trees, knees huddled together and arms across her chest with chattering teeth as the torrential rains pelted against her lithe body and her surroundings.

One of them, named Ratangi, combed through her wet, curly hair when her eyes fell on Sita. Sita, who with each day appeared thinner, her lustrous and radiant face etched with greyness and dry texture, signs of ill-health and despair, sat with her eyes closed and her dry lips muttering the name of Rama. Though Ratangi and her companions sat afar, they could read the familiar movement of Sita’s lips to decipher Ram’s name.

Ratangi had pointed to another companion and pointed at Sita. The other Rakshasi rubbed her eyes and said, “She is the enemy, but it would be a lie if I said that I don’t admire her resilience. So many months have passed by, with no sign or message sent by her husband, yet she is steadfast in her belief about him. Such immense strength is admirable indeed.”

Ratangi’s eyes softened towards Sita. Her thick, bushy eyebrows came together in a frown as she said, “Don’t you think we should help her? The storm is brutal, and she is already so thin and frail. It will kill her.”

The other Rakshasi nodded at Sita’s condition but questioned, “What about the king’s orders? And if by any chance the princess gets to know that we have helped her, we will be punished.”

Ratangi dryly commented. “The princess enjoys tormenting this poor woman. She derives a sick joy from it.”

The rain mercilessly pelted the concrete grounds of the gardens. Some of the large ornamental trees had been bent down to combat the rain and winds. Ratangi and her companions looked at each other’s faces and then back at Sita, who had started shivering, but not once did her lips stop uttering Rama’s name.

Ratangi got up in desperation. “This woman doesn’t deserve to die in such a pitiful way. I am getting her over here.”

Gathering a straw hat kept against a wall, she quickly leaped to Sita with large strides and picked her up when the familiar sound of anklets made Ratangi halt in her steps.

“Maharani Mandodari.”

Mandodari, the chief queen of Lanka, stood in the harsh, stormy rain without a cover. She looked at the petite Sita in Ratangi’s arms and caressed Sita’s forehead. “We are all going to pay for this sin.”

Ratangi’s eyes lifted back to the queen, who stood with a passive expression on her face. Mandodari simply said, “My husband doesn’t strictly monitor Sita’s health or her lifestyle here. I can’t free Sita, but as a woman, I can make her life a little easier.” Checking for Sita’s pulse, Mandodari continued, “Sita is to be nursed back to health with treatment by our royal physician. None of the Rakshasis are to be engaged in troubling Sita any longer. Do your guard duties, but none of those sick illusions and cruel remarks. I can’t stop Shurpanakha, but make sure that none of the Rakshasis join her to make Sita’s life worse than hell any longer.”

Ratangi and Mandodari walked to bring Sita inside to provide some warmth to her body. “We have performed enough sins that we have the noose of Yama hanging around us. Let’s leave behind some good deeds, at least for the queen of Ayodhya.”

And from that stormy night on, Sita’s life in captivity in the lovely garden of Lanka improved. She was fed the juiciest of fruits, nutritious grains, and pulses, and nobody ever served her murky water to drink. The Rakshasis sometimes gave some of their garments to Sita, who graciously accepted a few of them.

***

“Why are you still hell-bent that your Rama will free you? Don’t you know Ravan has captured so many powerful warriors and hasn’t even spared the gods too?” Ratangi cries out to Sita, who sits as peacefully as a sage immersed in meditation.

“I am not afraid of death, Ratangi, or my husband. I know Rama, but you don’t. He is kind as a dove, but when in rage, he becomes the destroyer himself.”

Some moments ago, Ravan arrived at the garden to threaten Sita to submit to him. “If you don’t submit to me, O Sita! You will meet with terrible destruction at my hands after a month! This very day, a month from now, I shall devour you."

Sita, who had enough of Ravan’s violent and intimidating threats, especially after the cruel incident where Ravan showed the beheaded Rama to Sita to break her mind, silently challenged Ravan’s final warning with a fixed, fiery gaze.

Ratangi and a few other Rakshasis who had grown to like Sita grew terrified at Ravan’s threat. After the Lankan king left the garden, they rushed to Sita and sat around her feet.

The afternoon sun drenches the entire garden in golden light. The large trees cast dark shadows on the ground, but unlike the hot winds of summer that pricked everyone, the cool winter breeze brings a pleasant sensation to Sita and all the other Rakshasis in the garden.

Sita, in her tree bark garments and long cotton scarves, looks at the shimmering water of the lake. The swans bask under the sun, their eyes closed, as if enjoying the warm company of the sun. Sita smiles and keeps a cheek on her eyes as a small smile curves on her lips.

Ratangi, however, finds no peace, unlike Sita. She asks, “How can you sit so calmly? You only have a month to live. You don’t even accept our help to cross you over to your land. Even if Rama and your brother-in-law Lakshman cross the ocean, how will they penetrate the defences of our kingdom?”

Some months ago, Sita would always sit morose. Shurpanakha never left any chance to insult Sita or scare her with brutal images of Rama’s death. But Sita was a courageous princess, a woman with the resolute determination to survive all odds.

‘My Raghunandan will fight even the gods for me. He is my strength, and I am his. He will fight on the battlefield with your king soon and take me away. And my battle is here in this garden, all alone. I keep winning every day, and I know Rama will avenge me soon. Ravan’s pot of sins is overflowing.’

The other guards gasp. Sita calmly, with a brave look in her eyes, looks at no one but the calm lake. Sita’s words were blasphemous!

Ratangi and her companions look at one another. Astounded at Sita’s indomitable spirit, they closed their eyes and prayed to fate, for they seldom believed in the celestials above to bring Sita and Rama together, at least for one last time.

And what’s a king without his loyal people and followers? Ratangi and her companions grew kind and stretched a hand of friendship to Sita, but in battle they would side with their emperor. A sign of true and maybe flawed loyalty in terms of the ‘greater good’.

Nobody speaks a word. Sita no longer looks at the crushed flowers beneath her feet, but her eyes always fall on the loveliest of flowers that bloom in the garden. The cold doesn’t bother her anymore, and she gladly welcomes the sun on her body.

It’s only a matter of time, and like a lion, will my Rama take me away from here?

A chain of events brought about the ominous sign of Lanka’s destruction. Ravan’s soldiers, servants, and all the guards, Rakshasas and Rakshasis, try their level best to douse the fire burning away their kingdom like a raging forest fire.

Ratangi notices the blazing look in Sita’s doe-like eyes and gulps. The entire Ashok Vatika, too, burns. The dry twigs and leaves serve as fuel to let the fire capture everything in its vicinity. Sita stands on the concrete platform, her head high, and for a brief moment, she sees Hanuman leap across the large roofs of the palace with a fiery grey trail in the sky.

Flames surround Sita, and though she has seen endless fires in her nightmares, this time her face bears a glow as radiant as the enormous orange flames around her. She braces the powerful heat emanating from the fire and draws her eyes close once again with her lips, remembering Rama’s name like the chants of a mantra.

Sita’s open hair flying in the strong winds and the fiery radiance of her face make her appear like Devi Durga, and never did Ratangi think about bowing to another woman except the royal ladies of Lanka. Her head bends down automatically in reverence, fear, and awe at Sita.

Ratangi had seen Sita as the delicate doe-like princess when she was brought to Lanka. She saw how Sita was the rightful queen of Ayodhya after displaying her firm grit to survive and to stay stable after months of mental and physical torment, and tonight Ratangi saw Sita look like a powerful goddess of destruction.

She only mutters one statement after witnessing the surrounding flames destroy everything in their wake. “Lanka is doomed.”

--- xxx ---

The last second chapter of my short story collection titled, Goddesses, Rishikas & Women. There are other stories, some that you all have read, and the rest shall be revealed later in the future.

This scene is my imagination of Sita in Ashok Vatika. I hope I could do some justice to Sita's character.

And if you want to find more updates about this book, you can head over to my id: @samridhi.writes for all book updates and excerpts (meko audience bannani hai apni vahan so you all would mean the world to me 🥹💗💖)

Taglist: @swayamev @jukti-torko-golpo @navaratna @kaal-naagin @alhad-si-simran @houseofbreadpakoda @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @krishnaaradhika @krsnaradhika @ramcharantitties @krishna-priyatama

[mercurygray]

Another Fred (and Brady) Friend here:

Could you do #14, Blanket (from the second prompt list), for Fred and Brady, please? Or #36, Security (also from the second prompt list), also for Fred and Brady. Whichever gives you nice inspiration.

I love all your MOTA/BOB stories, BTW, but Fred and Brady hold a special place in my heart.

Thank you!

I hope you have a great rest of your weekend.

It was almost peaceful, up here with the rain.

Captain Becker had stood the wing down for the day on account of the storm, which seemed poised to last all day, and so the whole base had been blessed with an unexpected day off - a chance to clean guns, and mend flight suits, for the crews to work on their paperwork and Bowman on his files and more than one pilot sneak off to parts unsaid for a little unscheduled R and R.

Fred was sitting up in her bed, half-dressed and with her pillow braced against the wall, John's head heavy in her lap, a blanket pulled haphazardly over the both of them, listening to the rain thunder through the gutters at the eaves of the house. They'd had a record on, earlier, but when they'd got to the end John wouldn't let her get up to move the needle, and it was still floating, back and forth, the static hardly noticeable behind the rain. If she was lucky they wouldn't ruin the needle, but they could get another, probably - and she was a little more concerned, in the moment, about what would ruin the man on her lap.

He felt thinner, recently - she knew he ate lighter, on mission days, and they'd had a lot of those in the last few weeks. Thinner, and - and quieter, too. Less apt to pick up his clarinet, or her guitar, or even sit next to the piano downstairs and tease out whatever he was thinking as music. They'd all been sad slow songs lately - a little bit of Debussy or Satie.

"Harding wants to send us to Coombe House." His fingers traced back and forth over the top of her trouser-leg, aimlessly making shapes over the surface of the fabric.

"Oh?"

"He thinks we're losing our edge."

Fred brushed his hair back out of his face and behind his ear. "You've been flying a lot lately. You deserve a break."

"Do I? I don't feel like we're doing anything."

"You're doing plenty," she said, stroking his head like she would a cat she were intent on calming down. "Would it… be bad, taking some time away?" I'm worried about you, she wanted to say. You're not sleeping well. Your temper's shorter. And you're smoking more.

"But then we couldn't have this," he murmured, turning his face up to look at her, his hand closing around the outside of her thigh.

"Maybe I could ask for some time off," she said idly, knowing it wouldn't come to anything. "Volunteer to go help out there for a bit."

"How about we just stay here," he said, his voice somewhat sleepy, burrowing his head closer into her lap. "Where it's safe."

Sure, John, she said silently, still stroking his hair as his eyes wavered between wakefulness and sleep, until finally they closed, and his breathing leveled out. We can stay here, where you're safe.

--

You can read more about Fred (and Brady!) here at her masterlist.

[undercoverpan]

Ghost Spider 4

Through blood and tears, he may atone.

Jake was a strong man. He protected his family, he defended his people, he's fought in the worst war humanitys ever had. He has a purpose, and he served it exactly as he's supposed to.

Still, seeing a dead boy could send the strongest of men running scared.

He can see Spider sitting up in the tree. His legs are dangling over the branch, and he's peering at Jake over the ledge. He looks exactly like the last time he saw him, but his face....his expression carried this sense of disappointment that only a dead man could. Jake felt his entire body shiver.

"Jake." He said simply, voice echoing over the wind as it picked up. Grey clouds hung over his head, a sure sign of a storm rolling in.

"Spider, I..." he hesitated. What could he say? What words could soothe the gaping failure, physical evidence of his negligence in a 6 ft tall body? He couldn't tell if his rage came from grief or something else. From his expression, he figured he was more on the 'blind rage' part of the 'grieving his own death' cycle.

"I'm sorry." The words come easy, they always do. Meaningless, coming from him. He has to ask himself what he's apologising for: leaving him behind or telling the kids he'd be alright? It's meager, it's not enough, but it's all he can give at this point. What does a father say to an outcast? A dead man? What could he say that could soothe the phantom pains other than I'm sorry?

The clouds are getting darker by the second.

"I know." He says, softly, and there's this terrible resignation in his voice. He accepts, not because he forgives, but he's too tired to argue back. Just a second ago he seemed angry, so angry. But right now, the boy just looks tired. It reminds him of many years ago, when he found him sleeping on the ground outside their hut, back in the forest. He carried him back to his room while he slept soundly. He looked peaceful, so small in his arms. 

He hoped that was what his death was like. He hoped someone held him while he went. He hoped someone was gentle with him. He hoped he was asleep during it, that it came and went like an unpleasant dream.

"Is there anything I could…do?" Is there anything I could've done? Was there any way for you to come back alive? Is there anything I could do to fix this? Many words go unsaid because they are both too much and too little.

Spider contemplated, head turned towards a stormy grey sky. "No." Distantly, lightning strikes.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly, daring enough to take a step forward. Spider's eyes drift downwards, this look of pure apathy on his face. It wasn't natural, apathy didn't come easy to anything Na'vi or Pandoran. It didn't come easy to Spider. The boy in question hesitates, before shaking his head. It swivels back and forth, like his neck might be broken. He curls in on himself, wrapping his hands around himself, trying to keep himself stable. His entire form seemed to shudder in and out of existence.

"No!" He shrieks, and lightning strikes closer. The roar of thunder sounds far away. He sobs, and wretches, and shrieks, and the sky screams with him.

He walks over, now standing right at the base of the tree. Trees in Awa'atlu are different from home, smaller with thinner leaves. He doesn't know if the spindly branches could handle Spider's weight, but he supposed there's no need to worry about that now. Or ever.

He reached out his hand towards the boy, just managing to brush against his bare skin. It's warm and real beneath his fingertips, but the touch sends electricity through him. He pulls away, likes he's been burned, even as Spider reaches out to him. He recognizes what Jake did, considers it for a second, before curling back in on himself. Heavy droplets of water began raining down on them, the tide building itself high and smashing down onto the shore.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" He stammers, more like wails. Jake's at a loss. "No, no, it wasn't your fault, I'm fine! See–, see, I'm fine!" He shows his hands to him, like that'd help.

"I don't know what's wrong!" He cries, "I keep hurting people!" Jake doesn't know what that means, but at the same time, he does. He knows what reaching out and burning people with your fingertips feels like, he knows what grasping at straws feels like, and now he knows what trying to touch death feels like. It feels like lightning.

"You didn't hurt me." He insists. "You didn't, Spider, you didn't do anything wrong." 

He reaches out again, both hands this time. The boy shrinks away from himself, trying to make himself even smaller. He ignores this in favour of placing his hands near the boy's hips and lifting him out of the tree. Already, lightning shoots through his body; every nerve starts to burn. He pulls him closer to him, hands supporting his back as he lay his head in the crook of his neck. He holds him like a father, like he held Kiri, Neteyam, Lo'ak and Tuk. He ignores the fire spreading through his body and imagines it was warmth.

"I'm sorry, Spider, I'm so sorry." He whispers against his skin, like a worthless prayer to a God that no one is sure even exists. Because if humanity's father was real, and he did love them, then why is Spider like this? Why won't he hold them like Eywa did? Why won't Eywa hold Spider? Does he burn her too? 

He will hold Spider. He can ignore the burn.

He sinks to the ground, adjusting Spider so he's still comfortable. As the wind and sea rage on, almost crying out for the small boy in unison, he barely registered the cold that came with the storm. The crack and boom of lightning and thunder sounded close, like it was going on right next to him, like it could strike him. He thinks that if it would strike him, it would hurt. He hopes it will.

Jake has never been religious. You sorta give up on faith when you wake up to death and disease on your doorstep every day. He didn't get the dietary restrictions aspect of it, or the rules, but there was one part of religion and worship he understood; atonement. Paying for your crimes, and paying with blood and tears. Dollars and gold meant nothing to their apparent father, suffering did. It was easier to suffer than to try and be better. In his case, it was too late to be better.

Black clouds lightened into grey. Rain stopped feeling like tiny sharps of ice hailing down on him.

"....Thank you." Spider says, voice concealed by wind and thunder. "You're welcome."

And just like that, Spider disappears. Not like seafoam, like how his son had described it.  No, he disappeared like sand, crumbling in the wind, like he'd never been real nor there in the first place.

____

It is when Neytiri lays eyes on him that he realises something. She rushes over, frantic, and before he knows it, he's in front of Ronal. The 2 are inspecting his body, asking questions, worried. He looks down at his hands. He recognizes the marks, remembers them from the time Tommy was alive. His brother told him about them as a cool little fact, nothing important. 

They were called Lichtenstein scars. He thinks he deserves them.

____

Sorry for the bible refs, i will be making a seperate fic so the excitement is kinda leaking through =/. Its only based on Christianity because i had to study the bible for like 6 or 8 years of my life and I'll be damned if i dont put it to use

Also, paying for your crimes by suffering or atoning for them by actually doing better?? Which one we feelin fellas

[bas-writes]

Snowstorm

Character: Usopp Reader: gender neutral Word Count: 907 CW: fluff, slight hurt/comfort vibe, fear of storms A/N: raffle prize for @sheerxfiction who asked for some comfort fluff with Usopp during a snowstorm :3 thank you for participating, I hope you will enjoy!

“Alright, that should do.” 

Another towel found its place on the windowsill, blocking the draft of ice-cold air. Usopp tucked them carefully, kneading and braiding until he was satisfied with the result. He grinned at you over his shoulder and wiped his forehead with a wrist, as if it was covered with sweat worthy of hours-long fight with an invisible enemy. 

You grinned back, both proud of him and to add yourself some courage. The last thunder had almost thrown the soul out of you; you still felt tension in your muscles, uncomfortable shivers nestled at the small of your back, ready to run up your spine at the first opportunity.

For once, your boyfriend was the one less scared. But the extra dose of courage was barely enough to withstand the storm for the time of tinkering a protection. With another loud thud behind the window, Usopp yelped and dove under the blanket, almost knocking you down on his way.

“T-that just surprised me,” he immediately explained himself, wrapping you tight in his arms. Under any other circumstance you would appreciate his muscles flexed so nicely around you, but all you wanted was to hide at all cost. You tangled limbs around him and pushed face into his chest, curling yourself as small and close as you possibly could. Part of Usopp clearly appreciated, you could feel him swelling with pride and flexing even more. Part of him though would rather curl in your lap instead, so he hugged you even tighter, the line between comforting and suffocating you becoming thinner with each louder howl of the wind.

This…wasn’t a quality time alone you had hoped for when splitting from the crew for a day.

At least you weren’t freezing in this little, semi-abandoned house you had snuck in as soon as you had realized the dark clouds on the horizon bring trouble. But it was still cold, you were alone, unaided, with no food or warm drinks within reach.

And most importantly, both of you hated storms. Especially those viscous, loud, with enough power to wreck your little shelter into pieces, if the winds decide to blow into the right (or rather: wrong) direction.

Why oh why didn’t you stay on ship?

The window frame creaked, and rain rumbled against the glass. Whining, you sneaked closer, pressing your face into Usopp so much you blocked your breathing for a good moment. He tensed in fear too, but still found enough willpower to comfort you, his hands slowly rubbing your back, calming, supporting.

“H-hey, it’s okay, it was just a wind,” he chuckled nervously and shuffled in place, trying to get something out of his pocket without letting you go. “I think I should have something— Yeah, I do. Hey, look, I got us some chocolate!”

The bar looked a bit miserable after being carried in pants and squished between your bodies, but the sight alone eased your nerves. 

Usopp unwrapped it carefully, mindful of a loud noise that could startle him at any moment, and broke a piece off for you. You expected he would pass it straight to you from his hand—but instead, he placed it between his lips and winked at you. You giggled, your mood immediately improved, and craned your neck just a little, to reach him without wrecking the perfectly tied balance of his embrace. He stole the snack at the very last second, pulling you into chase and meeting your lips with a hasty kiss, full of smile, chocolate and warmth.

Smooth, drizzled with just a little dose of adorable clumsiness, he was kissing your stress and worry away. You started relaxing, and so did he, the raging snow storm behind the walls brushed off so easily when you had each other. You wiggled your way to his lap and he welcomed you so eagerly you both rolled on the floor, tangled in the blanket and each other. 

You almost forgot. Almost.

Another hit was so close you could swear the floor shook. In panic, you both jolted and crashed into each other, teeth close, Usopp’s nose missing your eye for an inch or less. Neither of you cared, too busy yelling and trying to hide in the other one, effectively wrapping yourselves further into the blanket.

“I’m gonna protect you, s-so don’t worry!” He sounded far from convincing, with throat clenched so much his voice came out like a high-pitched whine. But weirdly enough, it worked, even if Usopp paid the price with his ribs, as you squeezed him with all the power you had. 

“I-I’m gonna protect you, too,” your voice, additionally squeezed between his pecs, wasn’t much louder than a whisper.

“Together we’re unstoppable, right?” Usopp tried to grin, only for another thunder to force a yelp out of him. He immediately dove for a quick peck on your forehead: to calm you down, of course, not to shamefully hide! “W-want some chocolate? If we didn’t ruin it…”

“How long will we be stuck here, what do you think?” You watched him unwrapping the coils of a blanket on his search. “When will they look for us?”

“They probably already do.” He pulled the messed-up bar with a triumphant “ha!”. “So, let’s finish that thing before Luffy steals it… I mean, at least we’re together alone?”

“You’re right.” You chuckled and nuzzled back to him, squeezed comfy between his chest and blanket. “Let’s just enjoy. And survive.”

[fouralignments]

"Come back to me, Pietro," Erik said in a hushed under breath as the father kissed each finger before finishing on the back of his hand. Erik placed Pietro's hand back on the hospital bed. They came to this sterile and cold place; unfeeling; bloody and in desperate need of help.

Erik could only watch as his sohn's chest fell and rise intermixed with the beeping and electronic sounds of the medical equipment kept with the task of keeping his boy, his last remaining blood alive; it was sadly inadequate. Not even his mind brushing against Charles's glow could reassure him. A place that he did not want to be in, nor wished he'd return to. Yet here he was next to sohn...

Erik sang Mi Sheberach loud and true; over and over until it broke and cracked. Pleading with God not take his sohn away. Cried and sobbed and sobbed. He stayed at his sohn's bedside. Charles pleaded with him. Raven pleaded with him. Scott and the rest of the X-Men pleaded with him. Erik refused to leave his baby's side for in fear if he left, Peter would leave them. His sohn had to be protected at all cost. He failed him in the battlefield. He would not fail him, here and now.

The Master of Magnetism, Magneto the Miraculous (to his admirers) or the Merciless (to his enemies), despite all his power over electromagnetic field and magnetism in all its form from the freedom of flight to the morphing of metal to shape it into his own image; Erik Lehnsherr was indeed still human and needed sleep. In the haziness of between wakefulness in twilights and complete deep sleep in the depths of the night; a blanket well worn and comfy placed upon him by gentle hand and a familiar presence of a metal wheelchair and a kiss on his forehead.

A wobbly hand brushed against temple, Erik's eyes shot open. Pietro gave a small smile, his sliver hair thinner than it was. Erik catapulted himself to his son, to hold him, to feel his heart beating, to know that he was alive. Tears poured down his unkept whiskery face as he rained down kisses.

"Hey, Dadneto..." Pietro's voice loopy from all the pain meds that were pumped into him, "I--I'm glad you--you're in my life. Y--You a-a-are a good Dad--Dadneto." Pietro fell asleep in his arms.

@iwillshipyouman I got you more cake to eat your heart out!!!

[the-salem-devil]

Hey! First of all, I've been reading your posts recently, and I can tell you how impressive it is to capture the essence of the characters! It is, without a doubt, surprising! So, there are Headcanonns I'd like to order, please. Could a Vee x Reader be possible? (NSFW, as usual). By the way, to give more “backstory” to such Headcannons, I imagined the Reader has a habit of trying to hide their own appearance. Specifically: a reader who, suffering from frail health that brings a dejected look, is constantly trying to hide it, whether out of shame or insecurity. Basically a Vee x Physically fragile! Reader. Keep up the great work!

VEE X PHYSICALLY FRAGILE!READER [NSFW HEADCANNONS]

I absolutely did NOT turn bright red while reading this, seeing my ugly splotchy tomato face in the mirror in my room, nope nope no sir but thank you for your kind words ❤️

-She gets it, she gets it, okay?

-She hasn’t been insecure about herself looks-wise, but being a basilisk, she understands the want to hide how you look, to hide how you are whether it’s out of shame or trying to protect yourself.

-But she never wants you to hide around her, never, you made her feel like she can be herself around you, not somebody else, she felt so safe around you.

-She’d kiss your soft, delicate skin, convincing you to take your shirt off took a long time, but when you finally felt comfortable enough, she’d be so gentle.

-The heating would be on, the windows closed tight to fight against the chill of the rain pouring down, she didn’t want to risk any cold getting in and potentially harming you, especially with minimal clothing.

-Speaking of minimal clothing, she’d be really bashful seeing you without a shirt, she usually shyed away from these things, but she wanted to prove that you can be confident in yourself, and that means being confident herself.

-the growing redness of her face would only inflame when she took off her own shirt, the toasty air brushing against her skin, she was embarrassed but it wouldn’t be fair to make only you get undressed.

-You’d give her a slow, long kiss, pulling away only slightly so your breaths still brushed against each other, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders.

-She returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you as close as possible, lingering for a moment, this was new territory for both of you, but it was a step you wanted to take.

-Vee tended to be more submissive, she has her fierce moments, especially when bursting into the museum, ready to defend herself against that creep, but when it came to this,

-She wanted to be more dominant, she worried about you a lot, straining yourself could cause damage and she would rather be locked in another cage than that.

-She’d gently push against your chest, not forceful but suggesting you lay down against the bed, and you complied, laying down against the layers of pillows and blankets she’d set up for you.

-“A-Ah, is this alright?” She’d stutter it out, the heat in her face enough to match the warmth in the heated bedroom, you nodded and bit your lip, “Yeah, y-yeah, it’s alright Vee.”

-Oh your voice, she loved your voice so much, your tone wasn’t loud or booming, which is something she appreciated and loved, but the force behind your words, the intelligent words you have to say, she adores it.

-She’d gently run her hands down your arms, up and down your shoulders, hating the way you tense slightly.

-Your health made you thinner, and not in the Hollywood way, your skin was thin and your bones protruded slightly, denting your pale skin, you covered it up with baggy clothing, but bared before your girlfriend,

-She saw everything, she saw it and she still loved it anyway.

-The gentle kiss you shared when she leans down, not straddling your hips but on her knees between your spread thighs, pressed almost completely against you, spoke more than words ever could.

-It was sweet, slow, and oh so tender, everyone’s been so gentle around you all your life, and sometimes you hated how you were treated like glass, but with Vee, you were treated more like a deity, something to be worshipped.

-She broke the kiss for hair, leaning down to nuzzle your neck softly, her blonde hair brushing against your nose, laying soft kisses on your neck.

-She squirmed slightly, remembering something she’d seen in a movie before Camilla covered her eyes, and softly took the skin of your lower neck in her mouth, sucking gently.

-Your hips bucked softly at the sensation of her warm wet mouth on your sensitive skin, and when it made contact with her clothed crotch a electric spark shoots through both of you.

-Small, simultaneous noises escaped both your lips, and for a moment, you both stilled, stunned.

-You bit your lip, and the pink turned to red underneath your teeth, “V-Vee, can we, um, try that again?” it was a shock, a spark throughout your nerves, but it wasn’t at all un welcomed.

-She thought for a second, her head buried in your collarbone to hide her bright red face, before she nodded with a small squeak of confirmation.

-You moved your hips slightly, pressing them against hers, and that same shock spread throughout you, but since it was anticipated, it felt better than before.

-It actually felt.. good.

-It seemed to feel the same way for Vee, because she almost unconsciously rubbed more forceful against you, not even close enough to hurting.

-You welcomed it, it was a strange sensation, and you both fumbled for a rhythm for a moment, before you feel into something semi-simultaneous.

-She kept her face buried in your neck, her lips parted slightly in soft, quiet pants and breathes, the hot air against your neck making you shiver and buck your hips slightly.

-Then she pushed slightly harder against your crotch, letting out a small moan of pleasure, wrapping her arms around you and burrowing further into your body.

-The thunder, the crackle of lighting hid your noises, the soft moans, the gasps of pleasure, but it echoed throughout the room, the sound of the others pleasure only increasing the friction between each other.

-It felt so good, so good, but was sweet torture, it wasn’t enough, she felt the sticky wetness between her legs, her thighs.

-She lifted her head from her neck, and she was a sight to behold, her face was flushed and red, her eyes heavy lidded, her pupils blown wide enough that it almost engulfed her irises.

-“I-I want to try something, but tell me if you want to stop or if it hurts.” That cause a bit alarm in you, but you trusted Vee, she’d never let you get hurt.

-“A-ah, okay.” It was hard to string together a sentence when her hips continued to grind against yours, like she was trying to stop herself but just couldn’t.

-She finally stopped when she leant away from you, and you whimpered softly, missing the friction and contact.

-She tugged down your pants, taking you underwear with her, and you flushed harder in embarrassment when you realised the warmth between your legs, but judging by the way she squeezed her thighs together, she must of been in a similar state.

-Then you felt her hand, her hesitant fingers.

-It was a odd, but it was the sweet relief you craved, you bit your lip hard, the sharp tang of blood on your tongue, but she didn’t notice, her eyes transfixed on the point of connection between you both.

-She slowly sped up, the beat of her rhythm similar to the one you’d shared only moments ago.

-Your stomach tightened, but not in the uncomfortable way, it felt so good, like the pressure of pleasure was weighing against it, and it only built and built,

-Until it finally crested.

-Vee couldn’t help the curiosity in her gaze when you let go, slowing her rhythm slightly to watch in awe, in fascination.

-You laid against the bed, flushed, sweaty and satisfied, you felt boneless, limp in your exhausted pleasure, and you looked at your girlfriend with a adoring, heavy lidded gaze.

-She seemed to realise that was a good thing, and a bashful grin spread across her lips, and you blinked away the fogginess in your eyes in shock when she lifted up her hand,

-She wanted a high-five of success, and you couldn’t find it in you to deny her anything.

[crue11]

numero QI/7!!! "i don't know how to kiss but let me kiss you, and I'll do it just right." did xxc learn how to kiss on that mountain? OFC NOT matters must be taken into xue yang's hands me thinks

 when was the last time he kissed someone ? he doesn't kiss the ones that come to him without being paid . perks of having nicer features than most , it catches their attention , xue yang doesn't mind . it's one part of a life cycle that every man lives , he doesn't do it because he wants to — it's the matter of the right time , right place and who is he to waste a chance of taking a beautiful , eager woman to his bed ? no , he does it most of the time out of gratitude for his luck , they don't linger in the morning , xue yang is glad .

 xue yang , doesn't crave being touched . being kissed , doesn't want to touch most people unless he's drawing blood .

 but moonlight looks like it's made fir xiao xingchen's porcelain skin , for the light flush on his cheeks while he tries to follow the lead ; xue yang stood behind him , arms around him , one hand holding the knife and other the cabbage . cutting cabbages and lettuces is a tricky business , they're not as solid and firm as potatoes and onions , they're not easy to be felt and held . whatever excuse xue yang had to justify his warm breath on xingchen's cheek and his chin on the older man's shoulder , it requires him ‘ showing ‘ xingchen the right way of cutting fucking cabbages . what am i doing what am i doing ?? xingchen is thinner than him , he's a little taller and just the right height for xue yang to feel his shoulder press snugly under his chin .

   what is he doing ?

 he's lingering when xingchen stops cutting the vegetables . there's lightning outside , xue yang's eyes close when xingchen's lips brush against the corner of his lips , against his cheek when he turns his head . shyly eager , just a brush of affection against his scarred flesh that's known naught but violence till this day . his hand tightens gripping the edge of the counter , he doesn't move when xingchen turns around and traps himself between xue yang's body and the counter . it's going to rain soon , it probably is and they don't have a leaking roof after all . little brat might wake up from her nap to complain about the sound of the storm , this somehow makes xue yang want to finish it before she does wake up — whatever it is . oh heavens , what am i doing ?

 i don't know how to kiss , xue yang rolls his eyes yeah , of course he doesn't . nobody taught him how to kiss in that secluded mountain of his ; is it his job to teach him anyway ? it seems it is . ❛ . . . go on daozhang . ❜  he can't muster up any ounce of playfulness when daozhang's tender lips leave a chaste kiss on his . xue yant lowers his gaze to the lips he's kissing , he's tilting his head and parting his lips even to make it easier for him . a tighter grip on the counter , clenching all his muscles to stop himself from doing something impulsive . the next time xingchen clumsily kisses his bottom lip , xue yang smirks with parted lips . ❛ i'm an impatient man . ❜  he's doing this just to test waters , he tells himself , what is he doi— who cares ? warmer hand settles on the gentle curve of xingchen's waist , tightens its grip when xue yang leans in . it's deeper , it's how it should be , it's never been like this . he remembers being kissed by one of the girls once , and turning his head away from it . okay , so you don't like being kissed , boy .

 there's some space between their lips , his own breaths mix with xingchen's uneven ones and he whispers again ; ‘ do it again , please ‘ . his hand shoves away the cutting board from the counter behind xingchen , dives in to catch his panting lips again . it's awfully close to biting the lamb's flesh off , tearing it with his teeth , letting it bleed so maybe he regrets asking the wolf to devour him but xingchen is not like that – he's eager . more eager than how xue yang thought he'd be . he stops when he thinks xingchen is breathless . stares at the white blindfold while he aimlessly searches for his gaze , tries to focus back on reality and control his breathing again . closing his eyes . . . focus . focus . remember what you're doing . ❛ daozhang daozhang . . . you don't even know my name . what if i'm your sworn enemy ? hm ? what will we do with this kiss if i am ? ❜  but he's basically murmuring it against xingchen's lips . he's not letting go of that thin waist .

[faithofgods]

flor; birthday snippet 01 || (romantic) day in dira

"Staring isn't going to make the skies clear any quicker."

A pattering of raindrops roll across the roof tiles, quiet, hollow taps calling out and competing to be heard against the occasional crack of thunder. Damp earth—rising from the garden beds below, the tilled fields in the far distance—clings to the heavy air, overpowering all else.

Your voice, its own call, stirs them, a turn from the window and their drawn attention settling on where you stand, waiting patiently in the doorway. Their mild surprise warms, Flor's expression softening and a smile pulling at their lips.

"It won't, no." Thread of a sighed unfortunately twisting around their response, but their smile remains, bright against the gloom at their back.

They lean in at your approach, a light kiss to the high of your cheek and their hand sliding into your offered one; your fingers lace together, your own kiss to the joined sides of your hands, their smile softening further. Barely a wisp, now, tenderness overtaking as their hand briefly tightens in yours.

"Are you ready to go?" they ask, letting go and shifting aside to make space for you at the window. Despite the heaviness in the air, the rain, the season still brings a chill with it. Wind whips at your face and the thinner sections of your robes through the cracked-open glass; through it all, Flor remains unaffected, cropped sleeves pushed up, a seeking of the cooler weather.

The sun at your side, undeterred and shining brightly.

Still, despite their smile, despite the crinkle near their eyes and the gentle way they move their hand until it rests against yours on the sill, there's a mood hanging over them. Barely tangible, flickers of it surfacing with each brilliant flash of light outside, downcast eyes shifting away from you to stare out the window.

"I am." Plans made to visit the market ahead of opening, to walk the quiet streets before the rest of the city awoke, disrupted now. "But something bothers you."

Return of before's subtle surprise, their smile tilting. "It's a silly worry."

"I'd still like to hear it." Plain and unadorned. Simple, as sweet as the heat of their hand against yours, thin current sparking along your arm. An effort made to match the same openness they greet you with, a return of the favor in whatever small ways you can manage.

"Nature," they answer after a moment, and their smile tilts again, sincere and embarrassed. "The birds. Whether they found shelter before the storm."

The birds, your familiar shadows. Watchful and close, a difficult thing to miss. A dark cloud that's never bothered Flor, never prompted any questions beyond silly, useless things like names, or whether you can recognize individuals of them. What their personalities are like, whether they bring you gifts, what would be best to leave out as gifts for them.

It shouldn't surprise you, their fretting. The worry over something outside their control, something they must think you're concerned over too. An undertone that layers inside each action and question of theirs, this willingness to be a part of every messy corner of your life; a marked difference from how you approach the rest of it, the edges of your past folded over time and time again to keep from fraying entirely.

"They did." You feel them even now, through the rainfall and crackle of the storm. Ever close, always watching, flocked along the ground. Tucked under branches, the brush, nestled in the tangle of shrubbery lining your estate's gardens. An imagined pinprick gleam of their eyes through the murk, reflections of the hidden stars, but they're there.

Odd, to see the relief that's in Flor, odd to share in it yourself. The mood, its heavy curtain, has fallen from them, brushed aside; their calloused palm settles over your knuckles, their beaming smile returning.

Odder, to feel so comforted by both presences, but it's one you'll sink into. Allow, for just this moment. Allow for longer, for as long as they smile at you as they do now.

[blukrown]

The Life We Have Earned - Spring Cleaning [NSFW]

Reaper (Gabriel Reyes)/Soldier76 (Jack Morrison)

The husbands go for a grocery shop the day after moving in. Mischief and shenanigans do, in fact, ensue.

MOVE IN DAY [1] - FOOD RUN[2]

Or read it on AO3 here

WARNING! This fic features - Sexual acts

The early summer afternoon sun shone down upon the quiet, peaceful houses in the suburbs just shy of the big city. Warm enough to have young children playing in the yards but not too hot that all the garden's sprinklers were on to save their ideal emerald green lawns.

In one house, all the doors and windows were open, allowing the faintest of breezes to blow through. The vacuum and mop were still leaning against a wall in the kitchen and nearly all surfaces had been cleaned of dirt and dust. With the warmth in the air, it had inspired the occupants to do some (out of season) spring cleaning. 

One of the occupants, dark and nearly always having a frown on his face, was currently hanging the washing on the washing line in the backyard. Basket full of washing in the grass at his feet, he draped clothes, towels and sheets to dry in the warmth of the sun. Squinting on the occasions when the bright sun snuck past the drying fabrics to blind him.

The other resident was still inside, tanned but with white hair, he busied himself in the laundry. One and a half sets of boots were set by his feet while the one lonely right boot was in his hand. Desperately scrubbing at hardened mud and grime, grunting and swearing in his struggle.

The warmth of summer was still new and novel and had inspired the two men to venture for a hike in the nearby mountains just a half-hour drive from home. They had forgotten, however, that there had been a great showering of rain the night before. Causing the ground to be soft and malleable at first light when they had set out on their walk from their parking spot at the base of the path. To summarize it simply, their boots had not been the only thing caked in grime when they finally got home yesterday night. And now, Jake Morrison-Reyes was paying the cost.

Sponges, scower, an old guide brush and even a rusted fork were at his disposal as he struggled to get the solid muck out from the grips of the bottom of the boot. Thanking he wore a thinner shirt, he was already straining with exertion with how fiercely he brushed at the grime. And this was the first of four he was planning to clean.

Sighing in frustration, Jack dropped the fork and boot into the sink in front of him. Needing a break before he felt carpel tunnel kicked in. Looking up, he could see Gabriel through the window.

Gabriel Morrison-Reyes, wore a baggy black shirt with the words ‘Death walks among you' in heavy metal-inspired fontage. He also wore short however these were not just any shorts, but the shortest of shorts Jack had ever seen Gabriel wear. Cut high on the upper thigh, the sleeve rising high on the outer side of the leg to give a seductive peekaboo of the rearend that made it very difficult not to stare.

This was not the first time Jack had seen Gabriel wear those shorts, however. Gabriel had bought the damn things ages ago when he was on deployment in Brazil. Needing shorts as he forgot to pack civilian clothes suitable for warmer weather, he had bought the first thing he had found. Obviously disgruntled, Gabriel had never thrown them away. At first surely to not to waste the money already spent, even if they were indecent. But those shorts were surely brokering on a decade old and Jack had the sneaking suspicion Gabriel only kept them now to taunt him.

So there they were, still on Gabriel’s person, some of the threads undone and a hole near the base of a sleeve. And damn it, Gabriel’s ass looked fine in them. Jack bit his lip as he looked through the window, not much caring if he was caught. As he beheld his husband through the window, because damn it, someone had to.

Gabriel had one of the fitted sheet’s in his hands, flapping the fabric in the wind a few times before hanging it on the line. The flex of his arms, straining all the while. Then, he ducked down to get the matching pillow cases and fuck, did his ass look good in those stupid shorts. Just the perfect amount of ass was visible peaking below the cloth, and even with the fabric being worn, still hugged to his rear to make a very alluring shape.

He could stare at that ass for days, enjoy the way it tilted when Gabriel leaned over or when he settled on one leg. He had to thank Gabriel for still keeping up his physique.

The sight made him think about just he should do such a fine specimen. Touch it, grope it, fuck it, eat it out. He did not even care if Gabriel was sweaty from a day of cleaning. He realised his crotch was warming and growing sensitive. Jack had to look away, letting out a funneled breath through his mouth as he tried not to get a erection during the middle of cleaning boots, of all things. Taking a moment, he strained to think of something to distract him. 

Mud, glass, trees, dogs, washing, clothing, ass- FUCK.

“You know soaking might do the trick?” Gabriel’s voice interrupted Jack’s focus.

Jack looked up in surprise to see Gabriel coming back through the laundry door, empty basket in hand.

“W-What?” Jack spluttered, feeling his face burn before averting his eyes again.

“The boots, the mud’ll slip right off if you just soak them.” Gabriel repeated.

“O-Oh,” Jack started, looking down at his rather pathetic attempt so far. “You might be right, hah, I wasn’t thinking.”

Gabriel only let out a grunt, leaning over to open the laundry door to pull out the next load of washing. Dark fabrics came tumbling out and into the basket but Jack did not notice as his eyes betrayed him by staring at Gabriel’s behind.

Gabriel, damn him, must have noticed, “Seeing something you like?” Not hiding a smug smirk that curled his lip.

Jack thought to say no, defend his ego, but he knew better. Gabriel could read him like an open book and still have energy enough to be smug. So he did not fight it.

He gave Gabriel a awkward smile, “What’s there not to like? If I didn’t know any better, I would think you wore those shorts to mess with me.”

Basket now full and washing machine empty, Gabriel stood straight and his grin was only growing wider. “And if I did? What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Several things,” Jack replied, feeling his mouth grow dry and forcing himself to gulp.

“Really? Then how’s about you show me? Then I might learn my lesson.” Gabriel said, voice heavy and low like gravel but smooth like velvet.

Jack’s took a heavy breath in and out through his mouth. Gabriel loved to test him, tempt him. Keep him on his toes. It was one of the things he liked most about him. He also found great enjoyment in surprising Gabriel too.

He kicked the basket that was below the washing machine so it slid across the tile until it hit the back door. Trying to seem as calm as feasibly possible, he then looked to Gabriel. “Bend over.”

Gabriel’s smirk, if possible, only grew. “Yes, sir.” 

Stepping forward so his knees brushed the machine, he then leaned over until his stomach and chest were now resting on the top. Just the sight alone ignited the embers arousal he had felt since earlier.

Jack took to stand behind him, getting close enough that their leg’s brushed and his crotch rubbed at Gabriel’s rear. Jack heard Gabriel let out a heavy huff of a breath, noting it to be a sign of lustful anticipation.

Licking his lips, Jack lifted his hands to Gabriel’s hips, pushing up the other man’s shirt a little, he let his fingers drag over the muscles of his lower back. He could feel Gabriel flinch, ever slightly at the touch, always having been ticklish around there. Back to Gabriel’s hips, his finger’s scapped around, thumbs brushing over an awakening cock to squeeze at Gabriel’s inner thigh’s teasingly.

Gabriel grunted and Jack looked up to see Gabriel’s fists clenching, a reaction to slow burning sexual frustration that Jack could not help but flare further. Pulling by where his hands lay, he pressed his tenting cock against Gabriel’s ass. Letting it go between the two muscles to tease between them. He felt no rush, enjoying the smallest of stimulation he got from the action, savoring it like the sweetest of fruits.

Jack’s hands then, curved around to finally cup at Gabriel’s ass. Enjoying the firmness of a muscle in each hand, squeezing to relish the slight give of fat on the flesh. Pushing Gabriel just that little bit more forward until his hips touched the edge of the machine, Jack massaged the shapes as he rubbed his cock again between them.

He could feel his own cock now straining at the fabric of his brief’s and shorts, enjoying the friction but yearning for ever more. And by the looks of it, so did Gabriel, his breaths heavy and languid, his shoulders tensing as he must feel the head of Jack’s cock tease at his entrance through his shorts.

“God, Gabe,” Jack grunted, leaning over to kiss at Gabriel’s shoulders. “The things I want to do to you . . . Jesus, you drive me crazy sometimes.” Rubbing his cock eagerly around Gabriel’s rear.

Gabriel grunted, pleased. Looking over his shoulder to look at Jack where he could. “Well, you better hope you do more things to me then . . . Otherwise I’ll be the one going crazy.”

Jack could not help back chuckle, straining to steal a kiss from Gabriel’s lips. “I’ll have to get the lube from the bathroom. Can you wait?”

Gabriel grunted, reaching behind him to keep Jack there. “Don’t . . . I’m sure you can figure something out.” His voice raspy but relaxed. Soft and mushy with blissful pleasure.

Jack nodded, catching on. “Yeah, yeah I can do that.”

Getting to work, Jack nabbed one more kiss before departing. Covering the back of Gabriel’s neck in kisses and even leaving a hickey or two at the nape that, with Jack’s great pleasure, made Gabriel let out a satisfied moan. Still grinding his front against Gabriel’s behind all the while, he was slow but not teasing, wandering but deliberate.

Eventually, he pulled his now fully erect cock away from Gabriel’s ass, his hands at the waistband of those accursed shorts and pulling them down along with his jocks to drop to the floor of the laundry. Then kneeling down behind Gabriel so that he was eye to eye with his quarry.

Gabriel was handsomely hairy and Jack loved it. Think black hair creeped up his legs, fading slightly over the cheeks before growing bushier again between them. He also had the smell of sweat and natural musk around him, having had a shower just before getting to day’s tasks. Jack took in a slow breath, welcoming the familiar smell. 

His hands went to either side of Gabriel’s cheeks again, this time lower to then spread apart, which Gabriel obliged further by widening his gate where he leaned. Displaying himself to Jack and, although Jack was sure his husband may feel embarrassed, he did it without a word. Revealing his hole, puckered and only slightly stretched, unlike Jack’s own.

It was a sign of trust and safety Jack never stopped cherishing. It had took Gabriel a long time to take the more vulnerable position of bottoming, as his masculinity had at one point felt wounded just by the thought. Now, although not his first choice, it was something he found undeniable joy in. Jack sighed, squeezing the fat of Gabriel’s ass to ease perhaps any tension the other man may still have, before he then began.

Leaning in as his mouth wet his tongue, he gave Gabriel’s entrance a small lap, giving the man opportunity to adjust to the feeling. Then delving in, he pressed his tongue at the squeezing muscle and gaining entry.

Jack relished the sound of Gabriel's initial groan as he must be enjoying the sensation of Jack’s tongue inside him. His hands gripping onto the edge of the machine as Jack saw his knees visibly weaken.

The muscle surrounding Jack’s tongue was warm and malleable, giving but still squeezing. Pressing his tongue as deep as possible he then curled, and Gabriel’s reactive whimper was music to his ears. His hands cupping and spreading each of Gabriel’s cheeks as nearly the whole of Jack’s face was between them. His eyes closed as he focused. Lapping at the sensitive place inside him until Jack could feel Gabriel quaking both inside and out.

Gabriel did not let Jack stay down there for long, impatience being a habit of his even when Jack took the lead.

It took a lot of energy for him to lift his head, eyes unfocused from pleasure but still steely with eagerness to move on. “C’mon Jackie . . . Don’t tell me that’s all y-you had planned.”

Jack pulled away to look to Gabriel, unabashed by how his mouth and chin was covered in saliva. “Not at all, you want to move on?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said gruffly, “Quickly.” He then said as a bit of an after thought.

Jack silently smiled, getting back to his feet. “Do you want me to stretch you out or-“

“No, I-I’ll be fine, just get on with it.” Gabriel hissed, impatience flaring again.

Jack, like always, did not take offense. If anything it was a compliment that he was able to get Gabriel this eager to continue.

Jack leaned forward over Gabriel again to kiss as his shoulder, then neck, cheek and finally chin. Approaching him to kiss his lips, if he let him. Sometimes the thought of kissing a mouth that had just been in his ass was too much for Gabriel, but this time he didn’t care. He took Jack’s kiss great-fully, hand reaching to hold him there.

Getting the hint Gabriel wanted him to stay there, Jack tried his best to go about his other task without looking. Fumbling for a second or two, he undid the button and fly of his shorts and shoved both them and his briefs down to the floor. Pulling away from Gabriel’s lips for just a moment, he lifted his right hand to wet them but he saw a look in Gabriel’s eyes. Eagerness.

Jack smile was still present, although darkened with lust, as he let his fingers enter Gabriel’s eager, open mouth. Taking all the digits greedily, the other man’s tongue lapped at them all as his mouth provided ample saliva. His lips sucked on them as they left, teasing them to come back in and wetten them again.

Jack’s face burned at the sight, Gabriel’s eyes half closed as he savoured Jack’s fingers like the darkest chocolate, a dribble coming free from his lip to drop into his beard. Thoughts to change course and get his cock in this hole tickled at the back of his mind, soarly tempting him. But he knew Gabriel would gladly oblige, afterwards.

Now with amply wet fingers, Jack took back Gabriel’s lips trying to convey in kiss alone just how hot Gabriel was just then. How, if it were possible, he would have made him even harder. Telling him how much he turned him on just at the sight of him, how much he loved him ever more by the moment.

His saliva-covered hand took to coat his cock in the liquid, and with any excess left, smother around Gabriel’s entrance. This being enough of a cue for the other man to spread his legs further apart and lower until his stomach and chest were against the surface of the washing machine once more. Straining to reach Gabriel’s lips from where he hunkered over him, he opted to kiss at his neck and back. Shallow pecks, to fierce presses as well as additional hickeys that Gabriel audibly enjoyed with a hitch in his breath.

Left hand took to Gabriel’s hip, keeping him steady, and his right took his cock in hand. Giving his shaft a few jerks, just to stave off his building climax, he then angled so the head was brushing at Gabriel’s entrance.

Gabriel grunted below him, wriggling his hips eagerly and pushing backwards, forcing Jack inside. Jack let out a moan, greatly pleased with the warmth and squeeze that surrounded the head, then the rest of his shaft. Gabriel took him in well, with only a slight bit of resistance that created the most tantalizing of squeezes.

Now fully inside, Jack ensured both hands were secured at Gabriel’s waist before he began. Pulling out, both men groaned at the sensation. For Jack, it was the reluctant give of Gabriel’s walls, hugging around him as he unsheathed. For Gabriel, it was the drag of the head of Jack’s cock along the inner wall.

Jack then thrusted his hips forward, finding an angle that made a rare gasp come from Gabriel below him as he pressed to Gabriel’s prostate, then receiving a reactive squeeze in response. 

Jack leaned over to kiss Gabriel’s back, licking and nipping at the skin to create another hickey as he pulled and pushed in a few times experimentally. It had been a while since he had had the privilege topping him. Not out of disinterest but the reverse was a familiar, easy configuration to find themselves in. Not that this, the tight walls of Gabe’s ass, lewd noises of Gabriel’s groans and the wet slapping of skin on skin was not to his displeasure.

Jack set a strong but steady pace, thrusting in and out on a even rhythm, not daudeling too much on the stroke.

Jack then felt one of Gabriel’s hands reach back to grasp at his wrist to gain Jack’s attention. Gabriel’s head was turned to look to Jack, one cheek resting on the top of the machine as if too tired to lift it. Once Jack looked to his dark eyes he grunted. “Harder, Jackie,” Before then gasping as a well precised thrust hit that favorable spot.

“Y-You sure?” Jack asked, knowing exactly what Gabriel was requesting.

Gabriel only grunted, turning his head as his eyes scrunched closed in a pleasured focus. Jack trusted Gabriel’s judgment, even with his own doubts, and obliged him.

Ensuring his grip on Gabriel’s hips were steady, he increased his speed. Snapping his hips forward harshly, pressing to the prostate on nearly each attempt. Pulling out with quick brevity and pressing thrusting in again. Picking up pace, Jack was at the fastest speed he could maintain, without hurting Gabriel or himself. Fucking into Gabriel with little care for pacing or dragging things out. But this was how Gabriel liked it, roughened, harsh and with a twinge of pain that made it all the more delicious. As long as Jack was not seriously hurting him, seeing Gabriel’s growing unrest and nearing orgasm was more than worth it. 

“F-Fuck,” Gabriel growled and Jack could see Gabriel’s hands gripping the opposite edge of the machine for dear life as his whole body jumped with each impactful, harsh thrust. “J-Jackie, I’m getting close.”

Jack was relieved to hear, apart from his body already growing tired from exertion, his own end was soon cusping. The raw fucking below him, the sight of Gabriel’s back heaving for air, and the downright pornographic slapping of skin and faint liquid noise of where the two men meeting being a lot for Jack to take in at once.

Jack licked his lips as he moved one hand under Gabriel’s leg, hooking under his thigh and lifting. Gabriel initially gasped in surprise only to be interrupted by a whimper as Jack’s cock pressed unbearably inside him and at an even deeperdegree. One leg still keeping Gabriel standing, the other was now lifted up and hanging in the air with one of Jack’s arms. Not flexible enough to lift straight as Gabriel had proudly been able to in youth, the effect was still very much the same.

“God, G-Gabe,” Jack gasped, letting his head roll back on his shoulders and shutting his eyes. Trying his best not to let his orgasm crash over him too soon. “Your so tight, ah- and the noises you- fuck make. Sometimes I think you do them on purpose.”

Gabriel could only grunt, mouth too busy gasping for air amidst noises of sincerest pleasure to reply.

Jack now finding his rhythm once more and gaining a level of ease enough to focus on words, he continued. “Jesus, those shorts are dangerous. Everytime you wear them, y-you drive me crazy. You just- hah, look amazing in them. I-I’d let you wear them all day and watch you but I f-fuck, can’t keep my hands to myself. And not just your ass. Y-You’re just so -nngh, handsome Gabe. I can’t stand it. S-Sometime you know it and sometimes you forget, god. Even in shitty old shorts and that lame shirt, I just c-cant -mmph, take my eyes of you Gabe.”

Gabriel was soon reaching his undoing, the words being the sprinkles on top of a sundae of lustful delight. Without even touching his own cock, Jack watched as Gabriel crashed from up high. His muscles, bunching and bunching. Breath hitching and hitching. Ass squeezing and squeezing. Until he came undone, an all body shiver coursing through as one last whimpering groan came from him. Cum spilling out from Gabriel’s touch thirsted cock onto the window of the washing machine, splurting several times until a final drop clung to the tip.

With only a few thrusts after, enraptured by the sight and feeling of Gabriel’s end surrounding him. Jack came as well.

Unlike Jack, who found sick joy in the feeling of cum inside him, Gabriel felt the opposite. Despised the dripping of it and the mess he had to clean afterwards - even though Jack enjoyed it when he let him.

Pulling out just in time, he thrust at the peak of Gabriel’s ass between the cheeks as he too came. White ropes of cum splattering onto Gabriel’s lower back and ass. 

Gasping breaths were all Jack could hear over the sound of his heart beat slowly settling to a steady rhythm in his ears. While waiting for his body to cool and lungs to catch up, he gently massaged at Gabriel’s sides and ass. Not so much grouping as urging blood-flow to the areas he had  so fiercely clutched to moments ago. Leaning over, he kissed Gabriel's shoulders, over scars and hickeys. Welcoming the faint taste of salty sweat on his tongue.

Eventually, Gabriel spoke, voice grumbling and heavy through abused vocal cords, “Remind me to get a new pair of shorts, those have got holes in it.”

Jack could only chuckle, his laughter joined by a low snigger from Gabriel as they partially embraced, half-naked, against the washing machine.

[iamfabiloz]

this is a very mentally ill request of me... however.... scourge thinking about quince mayhaps?

YEAAH!! Sorry this took me a bit I reread a million timez to make sure it’s okay I hope u like it scourge :]

The street lights flickered on and off like lazy fireflies, the warm glow lighting up the dull city streets. Stringy telephone pole wires quivered as pigeons clung to them, flapping their gray feathered wings to steady themselves. A few dim white lights burned from the inside of Twoleg structures, little spots of brightness among the gray. 

A cold wind ruffled the back of Scourge’s neck as he looked above at the pink dawn sky. Gloomy, gray clouds were beginning to form on the horizon, and the black tom could taste the humidity hanging in the air. Soon, rain would fall down upon the BloodClan cats and they would drink heartily, happy to have fresh, clean water instead of lapping from dirty puddles. He had instructed Bone and Brick to collect as much water as possible in garbage cans, and other Twoleg containers. His cats would need them in order to last them ‘til the next shower. 

The sound of Twoleg cars speeding and yowling interrupted his stream of thoughts. Scourge wrinkled his muzzle. Those things were quite infuriating. He didn’t mind when they rolled by occasionally on the stony gray road, but when multiple zoomed past they were always incredibly loud. They always would bumble about noisily, the Twolegs inside their bellies looking out through the glass windows with their hairless faces. 

The BloodClan leader stood perched upon the roof top of a tall brick building; it provided the best vantage point for Scourge to survey his territory. It also was a nice place to get away from everyone else, somewhere he could truly be alone with his thoughts. He gazed down at the narrow alley below him. 

Cats were shifting around in one of the dumpsters, picking at saggy black garbage bags for extra pickings. One skinny ginger tom hooked his claws into a bag’s corner and ripped at it fiercely. A stream of half-eaten chicken and rice spilled out at his feet. The tom and the other cats beside him greedily descended upon the food, hissing excitedly. Scourge twitched his ears, approving of his their resourcefulness. 

Suddenly, a tiny mewl sounded from below him. Scourge turned to look at where the source of the sound had come from.

A little black and white kitten was scampering along the sidewalk, crying pitifully out for its mother. The tiny tom didn’t look old enough to be on his own. Scourge tensed, ready to spring down and help the kit, but a gray she-cat suddenly burst from behind a corner and ran over to the lost child. She scooped him up in her jaws and purred reassuringly. The kit’s mother, Scourge thought, feeling something contort inside of his chest. Though he was quite a few feet away from the pair, he could see the cat’s smoky gray fur clearly. An unexpected pang jabbed at his heart.

It reminded him so much of…her. For a split second, an idiotic idea wormed its way into Scourge’s head. Maybe it was her. Maybe she had come looking for him? It could be possible. 

But then the she-cat turned her head and Scourge’s fragile hopes sank. 

The she-cat had a completely different face; her nose bridge was thinner, one of her ears had a pale scar on the inside, and she had a small white spot on her muzzle. 

It wasn’t her. It wasn’t his Mama. 

The she-cat then turned the corner again, disappearing from view with her kitten. Her gray tail whisked around the block and Scourge shut his eyes tight, almost painfully so. Another gust of wind brushed his dark fur.  

He missed his mother. He missed Mama. 

He thought of her warm gray pelt and amber eyes that sparkled lovingly. He thought of her licking his scruffy head soothingly when Socks and Ruby had played too roughly with him. He thought of the soft nest he had shared with her, the Twoleg blankets velvety beneath his paws. He thought about rolling around in the backyard grass with her, the wooden fence looming overhead.

She had been the only cat who had truly cared for him when he was young. The only one who had comforted him when he felt down about his littermates. The only cat he trusted with his life. 

The memories of his kithood were all drenched in misery, all expect for his beloved Mama. She was the bright spot he kept coming back to, no matter how hard he tried to move past her and focus on his vengeful future. Her words kept echoing inside his head. 

Those savages are a scourge on the name of all good cats.

Scourge shook out his fur like he was shaking out a flea. 

Would she be proud of me now? For leading BloodClan? For killing the cats I’ve had to in order to keep the peace? Scourge wondered, heaving a low sigh. Or would she think I’m a brutish savage? Scourge hissed quietly, scraping his reinforced claws on the stone beneath him. I mustn’t think like that. She isn’t here to see how my life has turned out. Her opinion on what I’ve become doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t. 

But despite Scourge repeating the thought in his mind countless times, he still felt a trickle of doubt. Anger stirred deep within his belly and he stared hard at the  brick wall across from him, trying to distract himself from his immature uncertainty. The cats who had feasted upon the chicken and rice were curled up in the bins, bellies full from a good meal. Scourge tried to force himself to feel an inkling of satisfaction, but nothing but emptiness squeezed his his insides. He sighed unpleasantly and finally let his prying thoughts win, but only for a moment.

Despite being a full grown tom and leader of a an alley full of strong, scrappy stray cats, whom he had worked so hard to build up, a small part of him, bigger than he’d like to admit, longed to be a kit again. To be Quince’s little son again. To be Tiny. He thought of the possible timeline where he wouldn’t have been thrown in the river by the Twolegs if he stayed. He would have grown up with Mama all to himself, with no Socks or Ruby to bully and berate him. No littermates meant that Quince would never like them more than him, she would love him, only. 

Being a kittypet would mean never going hungry, never feeling the chill of winter against his fur, never having to worry about all the things he did now as an outdoor feline. He thought about curling up in a fluffy kittypet nest, Mama grooming his pelt like he was a kitten again and telling him that it was all going to be okay. 

A guttural growl rumbled deep inside his throat, but he kept on imagining fake scenarios after fake scenario in his mind. 

Play fighting in the garden. Looking out the window of the Twoleg den at the world outside. Eating bowls of kitty kibble and drinking creamy milk. Basking in the sunlight beaming from the open window, Quince chortling as the exposure turned his black fur a shade ginger. 

Mama and him napping near the fireplace, their pelts warmed by the flickering orange flames. 

He would’ve lived a soft life, a happy life with his dear mother. 

Would it be worth it? Scourge mused, flicking his tail uneasily. The kitten that had once been Tiny, mewed a resounding yes. But adult Scourge frowned deeply and shook his head. 

No, he thought. He could never go back to that life. It wasn’t possible, it could never be. I don’t want it now anyways, Scourge thought, trying to reassure himself. I wouldn’t be the cat I am now if I had stayed. I wouldn’t be me. Without all the hurt and hardship I’ve endured…I would still be Tiny. 

He wasn’t that meek little kitten anymore. He was Scourge, feared leader of BloodClan and son to no one. All he had was himself and his cats now. Bone and Brick were his loyal lieutenants and he had a place here with them. He couldn’t just throw it all away to live a day dream. He still had plans to complete, orders to give out. He had a duty to himself and to all his cats in the alley. 

Quince had been part of his past life, the one that didn’t exist anymore. Though a minuscule part of him would always want to be a kittypet again and live a comfortable life with his Mama, he knew it was a foolish fantasy, one that would never be fulfilled. There was no use dwelling on it now, it would only slow him down. Though he reassured himself of that fact, his heart twisted with misplaced emotion, and he struggled to push it down again. 

The Twoleg cars along the street honked and beeped in booming unison, drowning out any further thoughts on the matter, and for once, Scourge was grateful for it. 

[myveterinaryexperience]

Goats

A documentation of my experience with Goats at the Happy Herd Farm Animal Sanctuary.

General Information

The goat is a livestock animal that comes from the Capra genus (Binomial Nomenclature: Capra hircus) They appear similar to sheep, in that they have horizontal, thin pupils, live in herds, the males have horns, but goats have a thinner coat, tufts of hair (or beards) under their chin, and less curled horns. Like cows and antelope, goats are a type of mammals called ruminants, meaning they have a four chambered stomach, allowing them to break down even low-quality feed. They were domesticated for their milk, hide, meat, and fur 10 000 years ago, and now there are around goat 300 species in the world today.

Behaviour

Goats are social with both other goats and people, but they can also be very independent and curious compared to other herd animals like sheep. They are clever animals, and can often be found escaping their enclosures— usually by jumping — just for the sake of a challenge.

They can be aggressive, even if in my experience, they’re very friendly towards humans. Though both sheep and goats use their horns to headbutt their opponents, goats stand on their hind legs to ram downwards. Goats also often stand in this manner to feed on higher up foods like leaves or twigs. There is a strict social hierarchy among goats based on age, body size and horn size, and it is generally recommended to wait until they approach you first. If a goat likes you, it will slowly walk up to you, and they may even rub their head against your leg or lean on you.

Care

Goats are relatively easier to care for compared to other animals like horse or cows, as they can graze on almost any plants

As mentioned before, goats are herd animals, so they work best in spacious areas with other goats to keep them company. About 15-20 square feet per goat is recommended for indoor areas (depending on their individual size) while 25–50 square feet per doe, 32–97 square feet bucks, and 5–32 square feet per kid (according to backyardgoats.iamcountryside.com). Straw or bedding is optional, as though it provides insulation but can also be expensive. Similarly, a decent shelter to serve as a cover from any storms or rain is appreciated.

Goats are famous for their ability to jump, so fences must be constructed appropriately. To be safe, fences should be over four and a half feet for larger goats, and over four feet for the miniature ones. Goats can also be smarter than we think, and here on Happy Herd Sanctuary, we have routine attempts of these escape artists chewing through the softer wires or dashing out the gate when people enter.

As for food, goats generally feed on whatever weed or grass growing from the ground, but they do need a steady supply of hay. Goats in heat or rut can also require supplemental feed, which can be found in feed or pet stores. Lastly, to ensure the goats’ health, extra minerals and vitamins are recommended. A constant supply of clean water is also a must, so their water buckets must be changed at least three times throughout the day.

On Happy Herd, we regularly clean, feed and brush our goats to fight off disease and ensure they stay healthy. Vaccinations, hoof trims, and worm prevention is also integral to the goats’ health. A livestock veterinarian can be consulted on such matters.

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[xxalatteteaxx]

GIANT PROMO FOR MY BLOG!!!

Well I’m going to be promoting my blog a bit! I really want my characters to become known, and get out there and interact with others! I want to be an active part of the Cuphead fandom! I just wanna have fun! So I hope this shameless self promo will help me accomplish that! 

Anywho here’s a MASTER list of all my characters SO FAR and some backstories surrounding them. Maybe if you get to know my characters a little more, curiosity will spark and you’ll be intrigued to interact with them! Who knows anywho here they are!!!

Name: Pumpkin Spicella Latte {{ Nicknames: Pumpkin Spice, Pumpkin, Pumpy, Pumpkaboo, Puddin, P.Pie, Kinny }}

Age: 20

Gender: Ambiguous

Romantic/Sexual orientation: Homoromantic homosexual

Relationship status: Single

Backstory:

Pumpkin lives on Inkwell isle with their half sibling, Teacup. Pumpkin and Teacup work at a family run bakery by the name of Sweet N’ Spicy Delights. Their parents are no longer among the living, but their grandparents, who own the bakery, are still around. Pumpkin loves making sweet and spicy treats, and always lets costumers have free samples of their treats.

Name: Teacup/Teakettle {{ Nickname: T.C. Tia, Kettie}}

Age: 18

Gender: Ambiguous

Romantic/Sexual orientation: biromantic bisexual

Relationship status: Single

Backstory:

Teacup lives on Inkwell Isle with their half sibling, Pumpkin. While Pumpkin likes making sweet and spicy treats, Teacup on the other hand loves making cold sweets, like icecream, fruit pops, and other such treats. One of Teacup’s favorite things to make is icecream cake. Teacup can also make cakes for different occasions such as a birthday or even a wedding.

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Name: Rootbeer Float {{ Nicknames: Rue, Rooty/Rootie, Rubie, Root/Rooter, Ru-Ru, Rb, B., Flo }}

Gender: Male {{ But doesn’t mind what pronouns are used for him. }}

Age: No set age, but he is an adult

Romantic/Sexual orientation: Homoromantic homosexual

Relationship status: Single

Personality: Timid, shy, honest, caring, considerate, eccentric, sly -when he wants to be-, can be charming/flirty when he comfortable around the person he’s being flirty with. Despite being timid and shy, he can be very brave when he needs to be.

Backstory:

Rootbeer lives just on the outskirts of Inkwell. He’s a shy fellow who mostly keeps to himself. Rootbeer was kicked out of his home at the age of 14 by his neglectful and unsupportive parents. Rootbeer built his house by his own hands, and survived on the streets for four years, before he was able to build his home. He took refuge in homeless shelters and did odd jobs just to make money. He was mugged quite often and he almost made a deal with the Devil for riches beyond his wildest imagination. But a kind elderly woman kept him from doing so, and he and the elderly woman became good friends. At the age of 18 Rootbeer had built his home and the elderly woman, with no living relatives left moved in with him. Sadly, the elderly woman has passed away, her last wish was to be cremated and that her dust be sprinkled underneath a cherry blossom tree. Rootbeer honored her wishes and did just that. Rootbeer is now trying to make a living in the music industry.

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Name: Dustella Bunnie Cinders {{ Nicknames: Duzzy, Duzzles, Dustie }}

Gender: Nonbinary but goes by female pronouns.

Age: A legal adult

Personality: Meek, naive, easily frightened, but when they are around those they knows well they are open, zany, free spirited and outspoken.

Romantic/Sexual orientation: Homoromantic asexual

Relationship status: Single

Backstory:

Dustella lives outside of Inkwell isle as a farmer. She lives with her grandfather and the manage the farm by themselves. Her grandmother, although still around, cannot work because of her arthritis. Dustella loves working the farm, but her dream is to become a big star through singing and earn enough money so her grandparents can have a peaceful retirement. That and so Dustella can help fix up the farm.

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Name: Claudia Cirrusula Accumalita {{ Claudie, Clu, Chloe, Dia }}

Gender: Agender

Age: ??? Do clouds even age, I don’t know. Eh fck it they are an adult!

Personality: Zesty and always full of cheer. They are wacky and silly, not afraid to speak their mind. They aren’t afraid to show off and they aren’t afraid to express themselves, no matter what others may think.

Romantic/Sexual orientation: panromantic pansexual

Relationship status: Single

Backstory:

Claudia runs a boutique where they make fashionable clothes for all ages. They love fashion, its their whole world. There’s nothing they are more passionate about than the world of fashion. They are not interested in anything that has already been done, but only what will be. Claudia is always looking for inspiration for new and unique ideas for outfits. They also host a monthly fashion show, The gets to have their own line of clothing displayed in Claudia’s boutique, so they can advertise their own brand of fashion. Claudia’s parents are very rich, and are proud of Claudia’s accomplishments. Often paying for very expensive vacations and other such things for Claudia. However, despite Claudia’s accomplishments and the pride of their parents, Claudia isn’t always a bundle of joy. Claudia wants nothing more than to spend time with their parents, but due to work schedules and other such matters it is hard for them and their parents to take time off to hang out.

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Name: Marshie Amanita {{ Nicknames: Mars, Mari, Mai }}

Gender: Male

Age: Adult

Species: Anthro Mushroom

Personality: He’s very reckless and bold. He loves pranking people, but can also be very lazy. Making puns is his favorite thing to do. But he’s a hopeless romantic and can’t flirt worth a damn, he freezes up around other guys. He’s often mistaken for a female, due to wearing female clothing and his soft feminine sounding voice.

Romantic/Sexual orientation: Homoromantic homosexual

Relationship status: Single

Backstory:

Marshie is Claudia’s fashion model. Marshie was adopted by Claudia’s parents after Marshie’s birth parents died. Marshie’s mother died of cancer and his father committed suicide by hanging himself. Marshie has always loved fashion since he was little, and when Claudia was old enough to start their own boutique, Marshie asked to be a model. Claudia accepted, and now Marshie is happily modeling for Claudia.

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Name: Raimen Eduardo Payne {{ Nicknames: Ramen and Ray }}

Gender: Male

Species: Ramen Noodle head object.

Age: 22

Personality: Raimen is very nonchalant and laid back. He’s not much for a conversation and would much rather just listen to people talk, than actually talk to them himself. 

Romantic/Sexual orientation: Homoromantic homosexual

Relationship status: Single

Raimen makes money by selling noodle based dishes he makes himself. He sets up a food stand and just waits for costumers. He also has a horrible smoking habit and suffers from insomnia. He often suffers from pain caused by his fibromyalgia. Which causes him to not get enough sleep, making him also suffer insomnia as well. He doesn’t have the best of health and gets ill often.

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Name: Razzmatazz {{ Nicknames: Raz, Razzie, Razzles, Razzle Dazzle, Rara }}

Gender: Male

Age: Adult

Species: Anthro moth

Romantic/Sexual orientation: Homoromantic homosexual

Relationship status: Single

Personality: He’s very quiet and reserved, keeping to himself most of the time. Razz is very much an introvert and doesn’t do well in crowds. But he’s a good listener and a great advice giver. 

Backstory: Not much is known about Raz, other than the fact that he doesn’t seem to talk at all. Many people wonder if he’s mute, considering he writes down what he wants to say and shows it to whoever he’s talking to. He seems to want to become an author of novels and poems.

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Name: Dimitri {{ Nicknames: Dim, Dimi, The Dster }}

Gender: Male - he/him pronouns

Brush type: paint brush

Age: Legal adult

Romantic/Sexual orientation: biromantic bisexual

Relationship status: Single

Personality:  spontaneous, zany, go with the flow, can be somewhat lazy, can be bold/reckless, he’s also a sassy boy who isn’t afraid to express himself.

Backstory: Dimitri’s family died at sea. A horrible storm sunk their family’s private boat and he was place in the orphanage until he was old enough to inherit the family fortune. He doesn’t talk about his past much, but he’s mostly moved on from it. The only thing that really gets to him is watching his sister being swept away by large waves in the storm.

Name: Raine/Rain {{ Nicknames: Rain Mc Grump <- Dimitri likes to call him that }}

Gender: Male - he/him pronouns

Brush type: thinner brush

Age: legal adult

Romantic/Sexual orientation: Homoromantic asexual

Relationship status: Single

Personality: lone-wolf, gruff, moody, very sensitive, sometimes rather cold and blunt. Can be dreadfully sarcastic and rude.

Backstory: Raine’s family died when fire blazed through their family mansion. Raine blocks that night out and refuses to speak of it. He was placed in the same orphanage as Dimitri and Dimitri was the only one who attempted to be friends with him. Raine tried to push Dimitri away, but they soon became friends over time. And now Raine considers Dimitri his brother. Dimitri adopted Raine as his younger sibling and they both moved into the mansion Dimitri’s parents used to own.

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Name: Ross Riaz  {{ Nicknames: Ro, Ruben, Ros-Ros, Rossie }}

Gender: Genderless but goes by male pronouns

Age: He’s ageless, but is a legal adult

Species: Anthro gem 

Romantic/Sexual orientation: Unknown but is rumored to be gay due to the fact that he doesn’t seem interested in woman. 

Relationship status: ???

Personality: Ross is cunning and sly, his suave nature is charming and alluring. He’s a smooth talker and has talked his way out of tough spots before.He’s also very flirty, but he seems to have no interest in any female that makes advances on him.

Occupation: Fashionista by day - part of a mafia organization by night. But this mafia targets known criminals. Like serial killers, rapists, pedos etc etc. They don’t do drugs and don’t go after innocents. They’re a large group of vigilantes and Ross is their boss.

Backstory: Ross grew up the single child of a single mother. His mother was a stripper and a prostitute, but it was only due to the fact that she couldn’t make enough money to survive otherwise. They grew up in the slums and were very poor, Ross used to be the target of many street thugs. He has escaped death multiple times. He almost died five times during his childhood, once by almost drowning, the other time he and his mother were victims of an arson attack by street thugs, the other three times he was beaten and left for dead in allies. Now that he’s the leader of a mafia, albeit it’s a mafia that punishes criminals, he’s the target of many criminals and he is dodging assassination attempts on almost a regular basis. The only other time his life was in danger was before he created his own mafia, but no one knows what happened to him. Whenever that life threatening situation is brought up, he becomes uneasy and seemingly terrified. This is the only time Ross ever shows fear in front of anyone. All he says is that it doesn’t matter what happened to him, all that matters is that he lived. And that’s that. Who knows what he is hiding and what other secrets he has buried?

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Name: Nebula Cosmos Lunetta

Gender: Genderless - goes by any pronouns

Species: Comula-Nebulis {{ A Comet space alien }}

Romantic orientation:  Abroromantic {{ experiences a fluid or rapidly changing romantic attraction to different gender expressions. }}

Sexual Orientation: Demisexual {{ Has to have a deep and close bond with someone, before any sexual desires form. }}

Relationship status: Single

Age: Unknown

Backstory:

Nebula is a mysterious creature, an alien comet. Not much is known about Nebula, the only thing that is known is that they love to serve others. They are very mysterious and their personality is one that is yet to be explained.The only thing that is known about Nebula is that they crash landed from outerspace and that they are a butler for Azura

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Name: Azurette/Azura Sapphiris Okeley {{ Nicknames: Azzie, Azu, Azurrie }}

Gender: ???

Species: Blue Hibiscus

Romantic/Sexual orientation: Unknown

Relationship status: ???

Personality: Azura is very soft spoken, they are a tender and loving soul, who is always willing to help others. Their kindness is their greatest strength but also their greatest weakness, because being kind could end up being their undoing. Despite their sweet and generous nature, Azura’s sense of humor is rather odd. They more often than not will laugh at anyone’s jokes no matter how awful they are. Azura is polite and chivalrous, and if someone is in trouble Azura will be there to assist. Azura isn’t afraid of confrontation and will stand up for others and isn’t afraid to defend others who are either being mugged or assaulted. Azura will even face off with someone wielding a weapon. This often lands Azura in the hospital, but Azura doesn’t mind it.

Backstory:

Azura being born into a rich family, doesn’t have to work a day in their life. But they choose to do so anyways. Azura has many interests and part time jobs. Thankfully their work schedule for their part time jobs never interact. Azura is a part time model for Claudia and a part time maid for the Sweet N’ Spicy Delights bakery. Azura’s full time job is a florist, they own their own flower shop. Azura’s hobbies include painting and volunteering and local animal shelters whenever they can. But by night, Azura is none other than a member of Ross’s Mafia. Azura is only called in for important missions and is Ross’s right hand and the main cook for the Mafia. It is rumored that Ross and Azura are a thing, but this has never been proven.

Name: Violetto Mauve Lumina (( Nicknames: Vio, Violet, Vivi ))

Gender: Male {{ But doesn’t mind what pronouns are used for him. }}

Age: Early 20s

Romantic/Sexual orientation: Homoromantic homosexual

Relationship status: Single

Personality: Vio is a lone-wolf. He prefers to keep to himself and doesn’t like confrontation. He is always polite even to the most horrid of ruffians. He is very trustworthy and devoted to those he sees as friends and family. However he is sometimes naive to a fault and that can land him in trouble. He’s very empathetic and generous beyond what most people would expect of a lone-wolf like him to be.

Backstory: Not much is known about Vio except that he lives in a mansion on a lonely hill and writes stunning fantasy novels. It seems he and his sister are the only residents of the mansion. He made his fortune through his hit-seller novels. He is often seen around town hastily getting what he needs and going back to the mansion. His sister is rarely seen with him at any point in time.

Name: Sakura Esme Lumina {{ Nicknames: Sakie, Essie, Kura, Blossom }}

Gender: female

Age: in her 20′s

Romantic/Sexual orientation: biromantic bisexual

Relationship status: Single

Personality: Sakura is a gentle and kind soul, she’s a pacifist and seeing violence of any sort causes her pain. She sees beauty in things that others often miss. She is soft spoken and endearing, she is very patient and always tries to see the good inside of everyone. Even if people tell her that someone’s a lost cause, she will never give up on anyone. She is very sensitive to those around her and will share in their pain.

Backstory: 

Sakura grew up with Violetto in their mansion with their rich family. However, the family had a falling out. And they cut some ties with some of the family members. Violetto was able to buy back the mansion and now he and his sister own the mansion. Sakura can be seen tending the gardens, tending to hurt or sick animals, and finally singing and dancing around the grounds. Especially at night. Sakura used to work for an orphanage but that was before... the unfortunate event and she had to quit. Sakura, not wanting to give up work, because she feels antsy without something to do, runs a small flowershop right next to the mansion. Sakura is hardly seen anywhere except her flowershop and inside the mansion. Her brother worries about her immensely and often treats her like she’s a fragile flower.  

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And there you have it! There’s all my Cuphead ocs! I hope you enjoyed reading all about them! I can’t wait to be an active member of this wonderful fandom, and make awesome friends! If you’d like to help me out, hit that reblog button~

But don’t feel obligated to do so, but it would be appreciated!

ALatteTea mun out!

PEACE!~