#what else can i say...........................................................

[chrome-barkz-aac]

i dont think non aac users will ever understand the helplessness that we feel in regards to communication.

your device pronounces a word wrong. laughter. its fine, just go with it. but thats not what you meant. the meaning is changed. you type it differently, hoping to trick the program into saying it right. it doesnt.

your device bugs. you have to use a voice that does not match how you feel inside. you feel dysphoric like you did before you went on t. laughter from others. its fine because it has to be.

someone makes a bigoted remark to another person. you are typing as fast as you can - "that's not okay, you need to apologize" - your hands are shaking with the effort to be fast. the conversation moves on before you can hit "play". harm has been done and you have no control over it.

you navigate through a few folders. you want the word "sun". you keep hitting the button next to it, cloud. you hit delete. try again. you hit cloud. delete. try again. you hit cloud. over and over again. your body seems to have a mind of its own. it is frustrating. it is so so easy for everyone else.

your tablet is in the other room and you are trying to fingerspell. you want to sign "d". you see the shape your hand needs to be in in your mind. you keep signing "f". your hand will not make the correct finger go up and the rest go down.

the other person is trying to be patient. but theyre not. theyre frustrated. theyre trying not to show it. theyre frustrated. theyre frustrated. it radiates out from their body and makes your blood run cold. you're nauseous. you are always waiting for someone to lose their patience. it has happened before. it will happen again.

"do you understand how hard it is for us to get used to this" they say. youre about to cry. and if you, the aac user, if you show frustration, anger, sadness, anxiety, about not being able to communicate - you are difficult. "if you tried harder to speak, we wouldn't have these problems" - it stays unspoken but you hear it echoing in their words, on their faces, on the exhale of breath as they put their hands in their lap and call you "sweetie."

[diyahatnight]

How they ask for sex

Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, Caleb x gn!reader (Separately)

Warnings: Suggestive, sexual themes, established relationships, minors DNI, 18+

AN: Sorry if any of them are ooc.

Word count: 5.8k

Xavier

Xavier would be the type to tell you straight up, or at least hint at it. They wouldn’t be subtle hints either, he’d be straight up with his hints and make suggestive comments that on the surface don’t seem inappropriate, but most definitely are. Though before he ever gets to say anything, his body always speaks before his mouth.

You and Xavier were laid up in bed together, him behind you spooning you. He held you close to his body, arms tightly wrapped around your waist. He was holding you this close because—right before you both got into bed—you tried to kick him out of your apartment. As a joke, of course. But now he's making sure you can’t sneak away from him.

You assumed he was asleep while you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Initially, he was sleep, but he had an oh-so-delicious dream about you that woke him right on up. You felt him shift behind you and assuming he was now awake, you spoke to him.

“Are you okay baby?” You asked… but no response. You shrugged it off and continued to scroll on your phone. After a couple minutes, you felt him shift behind you once again, this time pulling you impossibly closer, like he was trying to get in your skin. Or… your clothes.

Xavier waited a bit before loosening his arms around your waist and trailing them lower, finally slipping his hands beneath your shirt. He then pressed his body against your own and that’s when you felt something hard press against your backside. Xavier was rock hard and he wasn’t hiding it, he wanted you to know so you’d do something about it.

“Xav-” You choked out, before he cut you off. “You know, Honey, I’m quite hungry right now, but there’s something specific I’d like to eat and i’m not sure if I can have it.”

Xavier didn’t wait for a response before he started to kiss your neck and caress your body underneath your shirt. You let out a soft hum and bathed in the feeling of his touches before speaking.

“And what exactly are you craving right now Xavie?” He paused his kisses for a moment, before sticking out his tongue and swiping a quick lick from your shoulder to your jawline, and then sucking the area for a bit to leave a nice pretty hickey.

“This food is one of a kind…” Xavier started as he nibbled on your shoulder. “There’s only one in the whole world, you can’t get it anywhere else.”

Xavier started to explain the food he was craving and he described you in explicit detail before saying, “And I’m afraid I need a taste of this food or my hunger won’t be subsided.”

You hummed once again and then softly said, “There’s definitely something we can do about that.” You felt Xavier’s smile on your shoulder and he let’s go of you before getting up and climbing over your body, moving you to lay on your back.

Xavier spreads your legs and settled between them, moving them to rest around his hips. He turned off your phone that’s been sitting there, replaying the same video over and over since he started, and he sat it on your night stand. He leaned down into your neck and whispered into your ear.

“I hope you’re prepared, Honey. Because it’s going to be a longgg night. I’m not letting you go until I’ve had my fill—again, and again." He said before attacking your neck.

Rafayel

I feel like Rafayel wouldn’t be the type to ask you straight up to smash. He’d be a little too flustered to say anything. He expects you to know when he wants to have you. You know him so well right? So read him like an open book. Rafayel is soooo obvious when he wants to have sex.

You and Rafayel went out on a date to the beach. He wanted to collect a bunch of seashells for you and make you something special. But after not even five minutes, the rain started pouring down.

You two were still a twenty-minute walk from your apartment, but you didn’t feel like listening to your fishy complain about walking in the rain. So, you suggested that you both stay at a nearby hotel for the night.

The nearest hotel was a three-minute walk, which he was fine with, even though he complained a bit. You paid for one hotel room for both of you, with one bed and Rafayel thought that this day couldn’t get any better.

After settling into the room, Rafayel told you, “Hey cutie, I’m going to take a quick shower.” He winked as he said it and made his way to the bathroom, hoping you’d follow him. Instead, you told him you’d be back. He turned to you with an offended look on his face.

“What do you mean, you’ll be back?” he asked as if you just told him you ruined one of his paintings.

“I’m just going to the store down the street to get us some clothes to sleep in, I won’t be gone for long.” You said with confusion evident in your voice and a tilt to your head.

For some odd reason he looked even more offended “So you’re saying that you don’t want to bathe with the love of your life?” he scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, “Rafayel I did not say that.” You folded your arms, “Do you or do you not want warm clothes to sleep in?”

“Fine, hurry up.” He said as he shooed you off. You sighed as you walked out of the hotel door, closing it behind you. The two of you had just gotten here and he was already being a brat. He’s gonna get it when you get back.

After a bit, you returned to the hotel room with a bag of clothes and entered the bathroom. Rafayel was standing there in a towel, letting the shower water warm up.

“Took you long enough,” he said with his back turned to you. You rolled your eyes as you put the bag down and started to get undressed. “Rafayel, I was gone for five minutes.” Rafayel took off his towel and stepped into the shower, “Yeah five minutes too long.”

Rafayel watched you get undressed and then step into the shower with him. He turned his back towards you and grabbed a rag, putting soap in it, and began cleaning his body. He didn’t say a thing to you nor did he even offer to help clean your back. He’s usually sassy on the regular, but today in particular he’s being more bratty about simple things.

After the shower, the two of you stood in the hotel room in your towels. You offered to put lotion on Rafayel’s body and he declined. With a sigh, you tossed the lotion on the bed and approached him with your arms folded.

“Alright, what’s your problem Rafayel?” He folded his arms too and turned his head the other way. “I have no problem,” he said matter-of-factly.

Your arms unfolded, and you traced your hand down his torso while quietly speaking, “Come on, baby, you know I know you better than that.” Rafayel grabbed your wrist and guided it lower, letting you feel his hardness press insistently against his towel — practically begging to be let free.

“Well obviously you don’t know me enough, cutie,” he said as he turned his head back to you to watch your hand. You started to rub him a bit while he guided your hand.

“Aw, baby why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you said, while he let out soft sighs at the friction, simultaneously softly grinding his hardness against your hand.

“Well… now you know.” He said as he backed you up until you fell back onto the bed.

Zayne

Like Rafayel, Zayne doesn’t say anything at all. He usually just waits until you feel like you want to smash because he likes to please. But if he’s feeling extra needy and you’re not, you can tell by the way he gets super touchy. When he feels like it’s been a while since he bent you over, he’ll be a little extra clingy, like an extra shadow, but he’s subtle about it. He makes it just the perfect amount of obvious so you’d at least get the hint.

After a long day at work, Zayne returned home, putting all his stuff down, taking off his jacket, and slipping off his shoes. As he walked further into the house, he spotted you sitting on his couch watching TV and that brought a faint smile to his face.

The night prior, you had spent the night, and in the morning while he was getting ready for work, he suggested that you should spend the day at his house since you have the day off. He’d love to see your face first thing when he gets home, your face makes his day.

Zayne sat on the couch beside you, and before you could even turn and hug him, he pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your hair taking in your scent. He sat there for a minute just breathing you in like you were his lifeline —the very thing that kept him going. Oh, he loved your scent so much… It turned him on after a long day.

He sat there for a long while before you shifted and spoke, “You okay Zayne?” He didn’t respond immediately and lifted his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead and murmured, “Just fine.”

You shrugged it off and pointed to the kitchen, “Well, I made you dinner, you should go eat. It’s in the microwave.” He nodded to your words, before pressing a couple more kisses to your cheek and jawline before getting up.

He returned with the plate of food and sat beside you again, closer this time. He rested his hand on your thigh as he ate, slightly gripping the inner part every once in a while.

After he ate, he put the empty plate down on the coffee table and then brought your legs up to rest across his lap. He caressed and massaged your legs before speaking, “Must have had a long day, you need time to relax.”

You giggled. “Baby, I’ve been relaxing all day.” He hummed, “Mmm, as you should.” his words came out in almost a whisper.

Zayne’s eyes remained solely on those pretty legs of yours, his eyes sometimes trailing up the rest of your body. He continued to massage your legs until he felt your calf accidentally rub against his hardness. The feeling made him shudder and he abruptly stood up.

“I’m going to go shower,” he said, leaving before you could even say anything to him.

Thirty minutes later, he quietly returned, sneaking up behind you on the couch and wrapping his strong arms around your neck. He buried his head into your neck breathing in your scent once again — the sensation traveling straight down to his core.

He started to rub your shoulders, fighting everything in his being to trail his hands down your shirt and caress your chest. Instead, he settled with massaging your collar bones.

“Zayne are you sure you’re alright?” you asked him once again, you knew there was something wrong with him. Still, he didn't answer.

He started to kiss your neck and you felt the couch start to softly rock — he was grinding his hardness into the couch. Soft moans and sighs escaped him, right in your ear.

And finally, he let it out, with a soft audible moan, “Please… I need you so bad.”

Sylus

Would be the type to tell you straight up that he wants to fold you like a pretzel and make sweet, sweet love to you. But instead, he gets a thrill out of making you guess that he wants to smash, and then he twists the narrative and makes you beg for it instead.

There was a little festival going on and you and Sylus were out together. The two of you walked side by side while he watched you with a smirk pointed out different stalls. You wanted to buy little trinkets, play different games, try different foods, etc, etc. You were definitely in your element and that brought a smile to his face.

Even though it made him happy to see you happy, seeing you so giddy turned him on oh so much. It was so endearing, so much so that he was ready to take you to an alley and have his way with you there. But he decided that on this fine Saturday afternoon, he’ll keep it cute for the time being.

You had strayed away from him, trying one of the games at a stall and he approached you from behind, wrapping an arm around your waist and watching what you were doing over your shoulder.

“Having fun, Kitten?” He asked as his hand slightly squeezed your waist and he pulled you a little bit closer to him. He watched you nod your head as you played the game and that made him smile.

After you played the game, you showed him the prize that you won, it was a cute little cat plushy and you wanted to give it to him. He gladly took it from you, when he grabbed it his hand slightly grazed yours, and he realized that you were quite warm. He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the palm of it.

“Your body temperature is quite high, would you like some ice cream?” he nodded to the ice cream stand not too far away. When you said yes he led you to the stand.

While in line at the ice cream stand, he let you order while he stood directly behind you. You felt him push his body up against you and you turned your head back at him.

“Sylus why are you so close?” You asked, your expression quizzical. He had a sly smirk on his face, “Whatever do you mean Kitten?” he said, but as he did so, he ground his hips against the cleft of your backside and he looked around like he was confused.

“Sylus what the hell-” “Your ice cream is ready.” He cut you off, pointing at the guy holding out your ice cream to you. You scowled at him, before accepting the ice cream from the guy and thanking him, then Sylus paid.

The two of you sat on a bench while you enjoyed your ice cream and he rested his hand on your inner thigh. You felt him keep his hand up every once in a while and you ignored it. Things go away when you ignore them— allegedly.

Sylus noticed that you had ice cream spilling down your forearm and instead of being a normal person and grabbed a napkin. He brought your forearm up to his mouth and sensually licked up the melted ice cream while holding eye contact.

You watched him with your mouth agape and your eyes widened when his lips sealed around the tip of your ring finger, to get the last bit of melted ice cream off. He also noticed the bit of ice cream you had on the corner of your mouth and he leaned in to lap that up too.

You popped him with your hand and he sat back with a smile, oh was he ready to eat you whole. But to his dismay, you turned your back on him, though his smile never faltered.

Later that evening, both of you returned to your apartment. He slipped off his shoes and watched you with a hungry gaze as you took off your jacket. Without warning he walked up to you, pinning you to the side of your couch. He started to kiss your neck, leaving a nice hickey.

“Do you know what I want to do right now, Kitten?” he asked, his breath hot against your shoulder. You shuddered at the feeling and spoke, “What is it Sylus?”

And that’s when he just let go and walked away to the kitchen to wash his hands. You were confused, you were so sure that you and him were about to get down and dirty on the couch, but he just… walked away? You followed him to the kitchen, closing the fridge door on him as he was about to grab a bottle of water after washing his hands.

“What the hell was that, Sylus?!” you scoffed. “What are you talking about?” he said seemingly unbothered. You frowned at him and folded your arms before speaking again. “You can’t just... do that and walk away.”

Sylus smirked when he heard you say that, and he slowly approached you, backing you up against the fridge. “What do you want from me, baby. Tell me, I’m all ears,” he said as his eyes raked over your face, he was ready to pounce, but he was waiting for you.

“Just… please Sylus, don’t do this to me,” you said, but in an instant, you were picked up and placed on the kitchen counter.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he started as he began to slide off your shirt. “You know closed mouths don’t get fed, Kitten.”

Caleb

I actually don’t know how Caleb would ask for sex. I feel like he’d say it straight up but he’d mainly wait for the natural progression of sex to happen. When he’s feeling needy, he’s going to kiss you like he needs you oh so desperately and then let everything else smooth sail. (I will be feeding into pantie sniffer Caleb allegations.)

Caleb was over at your apartment fixing a plumbing issue that you’ve been having for the past couple of days. Yeah, you could’ve fixed it yourself but you loved seeing Caleb play big provider man… it turned you on. So you saved something that he can fix, just so you can watch.

After fixing the plumbing issue, he came into your room to let you know that the issue has been solved, “Hey, Pip. The issue has been fixed, your sink should be working just fine now.”

Aw, he fixed it too fast, you were just wondering if you should go out there while he lies on his back, working under your sink and ride him, for moral support… of course.

You sat up off the bed with a sigh, “Thank you for your hard work Caleb, are you thirsty?” you said, as you got up and walked your way to the kitchen and he followed you.

“If you’re offering, then yeah — I am,” he said, all too giddy.

As you got to the kitchen, you opened the cabinet and reached for a glass. Caleb’s eyes locked on your midsection — the way your shirt slightly rose, exposing your pretty skin to his hungry gaze.

The shorts you wore sat low on your hips, and when your shirt lifted just a bit more, he caught a perfect glimpse of your panties.

Freshly worn panties… mmm perfect for a sniff, he thought. He knows you smell delish, good enough to eat. His mind started to drift, daydreaming, wondering if you’d let him smell your panties while they were on you.

His nose pressed against your mound getting a good whiff, while fighting the urge to lick. Oh, the things he would do for that right now.

“Earth to Caleb,” you called out to him, waving a hand in his face. “Oh sorry, Pip Squeak, I was just thinking about how… nice the sun is today,” he said, subtly angling himself so you wouldn’t notice he was completely hard from his daydream.

Curse those stupid tight pants he decided to wear today. He knows how much you like his butt, so when you called him to come fix your sink, he put on the tightest pair he owned to make it look extra plump for you.

You nodded at his response and poured both him and you a glass of apple juice. He took his with a quiet “thank you” and looked around awkwardly as he sipped it.

Then his eyes landed on you once again, and widened the moment he saw a drip of apple juice trickle down your face and chin. He swallowed hard holding back a moan at the sight and the way his hardness jumped in his pants.

He choked on his drink and immediately you turned to him, grabbing a napkin, putting down your drink, and cleaning his face. “Oh my gosh, Caleb are you okay?” you asked concerned as you cleaned juice off his face. All he did was nod in response.

“Let’s go shower, babe,” you said, as you led him to the bathroom by his arm. While in the bathroom you started the shower and then turned to Caleb to help him remove his clothes. He immediately stopped you and told you that he could take care of it.

You shrugged your shoulders and undressed yourself then hopped in the shower. After a couple of minutes, he joined you and you noticed that he was (attempting), to cover himself and you raised a brow.

“Why are you covering up? You act like I’ve never seen before,” you said with a smirk on your face. A pink hue dusted his cheeks, and he changed the subject: “Would you like me to help you clean yourself?”

You said sure and passed him your rag after pumping soap into it. He took it and began cleaning you up. After a bit of time, it started to feel like he was just fondling you, well he definitely was.

“Caleb, what are you-” he cut you off by smashing his lips with yours, dropping your rag to the floor. He kissed you like a man starved and that he needed this to survive.

Caleb picked you up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he pressed your back against the glass door of the shower. He started to grind his thick hard on against your tummy, moaning into your mouth as the heat between you built.

Absolutely no words needed. You know what he wants…

[satoblue]

you sit beside satoru on the couch, your legs tucked comfortably under you as you tap lazily on your phone to cruise the late night takeout menu.

satoru’s legs are warm atop of yours, stretched out and crossed over one another like he owns the place (he kinda technically does), his head resting back on his hands against the arm of the couch.

“why do you still call me gojo?” he asks suddenly, turning his face towards you, lashes fluttering over those stupidly pretty blue eyes.

you don’t look up. “because that’s your name? chinese?”, you suggest.

“wrong. japanese, actually,” he corrects, sitting up. you give him a look, because he knows full well that is not what you meant.

satoru flashes you an innocent grin. “gojo is what the world calls me. sorcerers, students, enemies, fangirls, haters — and haters who are also fangirls.”

you raise an eyebrow at that. “and what should I call you then? lord of infinity?”, you tease.

“that’s reserved for when you’re feeling especially reverent in the bedroom — write it down.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re impossible.”

he leans in so close his voice drops to that low, velvety tone he saves just for you — the one that makes you forget whatever you were saying.

“satoru,” he states softly. there’s a flicker of something behind his grin — something delicate and honest. “call me satoru. just you. only you.”

you blink, lips parting slightly. your phone slips a little in your hand. “satoru,” you echo, trying it out on your tongue. and it feels right — like you’ve already said it a lifetime ago. and the one before that.

those snowy lashes flutter shut like he’s tasting it — savoring it from your lips. “god, it sounds so good when you say it,” satoru practically moans.

your cheeks heat at his shamelessness, but he’s already grinning all smug, tilting his head in the obnoxious little way that he does.

“no one else gets to say it like that,” satoru continues in an affirmative tone. “not like you do, okay? that name — it’s yours now. yours to ruin, yours to whisper, yours to yell if i’m doing something wrong. or doing something right — like you.”

you gasp sharply, scandalized. “preferably you,” he smirks cheekily, eyes shimmering with mischief and warmth.

you shove his shoulder gently and he pouts. you laugh, but your heart feels like it’s swelling with something bigger than you can name, and your cheeks feel too hot. “you’re serious?”

satoru’s voice softens. “i’m serious, baby. i’ve met many people, and i’m telling you — it’s you. from the moment i saw you, heard your voice — i knew it was only ever gonna be you and me in the end and in every life after this. so yeah… my name belongs to you.”

you look at him — really look at him. and for all the power he holds — the strength, the godlike abilities… in this moment, he looks so sincere. so raw — so human.

just satoru. your satoru — if you’ll have him. which you will. just like you’ve had every version of him.

“satoru,” you say once again. and you feel the way his fingers twitch in response where they rest beside yours, skin grazing skin like he can’t help touching you — like the sound alone does something to him.

satoru groans, head flopping onto your shoulder before lifting up again, face so close to yours that you can feel the whispers of his breath against your cheek and his hair tickling your forehead.

“say it again and i’ll marry you right now in that ugly t-shirt.” he says in a serious tone, looking you right in the eye.

you glance down. “this is your t-shirt.”

“all the more reason,” he whispers.

you lean your head on his shoulder and whisper back, just to tease. “satoru.”

satoru inhales sharply like your words are physically hitting him, tipping his head back on the couch with a stupid grin on his face — the definition of a man in bliss.

“again.”

“satoru.”

“again.~” he sing songs.

you sigh, but you still say it. “satoru.”

“again.”

and you do.

again and again — you do. and you do it well, of course. because you’ve had thousands of lifetimes to practice.

[kukinkrim]

bad saja boys!

saja boys x fem!manager!reader (ft. huntrix)

note: thank you all for the feedback from the previous works for this series (mlist can be found here)! ( ´∀｀ )b

you didn’t ask to be a mother.

yet somehow, you still ended up with five demon children stuck in hot, tall, muscular man-bodies—all of whom insisted on wearing brightly colored tops, causing mayhem across the city, and nearly ending the whole world during a concert.

honestly, getting them all to apologize to you was already a miracle in itself. demons and apologizing in one sentence? wow!

you still weren’t sure if it was guilt, affection, or just the threat of losing their idol privileges. but it happened. they sat you down. jinu held your hand. abby tried to cry. baby mumbled something that might’ve been sorry in a really emo voice—honestly, who knows.

but that just goes to show much they cared about you, right? that somewhere deep, deep, very very deep in that black heart of theirs, they actually grew a tinsy, winsy love for you.

with that said, getting them to apologize to other people—well, that was another story.

jinu, of course, that man had no qualms in apologizing for nearly causing a disaster. the problem lies with the rest of the four who, other than you, didn't really care about mortals.

especially those who were literally molded to fight and kill demons for a living.

now you were standing in front of the huntrix, the nation’s beloved girl group who were actually demon hunters in disguise, trying to get your boys to apologize to their literal mortal enemies they once tried to eat.

you stood in the middle of the two groups like a stressed-out preschool teacher during parent-teacher conference day, except, you know, your children are literal five demon men decades older than you.

beside you were your five chaos incarnates—lined up but refusing to look at huntrix in the eyes. they all seemed to be in their own little worlds, not bothered enough to give the three girls the time of day.

mystery was staring at a bug on the wall like it was the most interesting thing he'd seen all day.

baby was picking at his nails.

romance was quietly mouthing song lyrics under his breath—completely the wrong lyrics, might you add, his shoulders wiggling like a worm taking a bath in salt.

abby was... making a paper crane out of your printed apology statement...?

and jinu, the only decent guy you deemed among the five, only stood awkwardly beside you with his eyes everywhere else but the front.

it was great.

you pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing deeply. this was going to be a looooong day.

“well? say sorry,” you muttered.

nothing.

“boys. say. sorry.”

still nothing.

the three girls blinked at your group awkwardly shuffling on their feet, wanting to be anywhere but in this room at the moment. at some point, they kind of pity you for having to put up with their asses all this time.

you turned to your boys with the kind of tiredness that could only come a perdon who's literally seen hell and is currently tired of anything that has to do with it. “if you don’t apologize in the next three seconds, I swear i will take away your ramen stocks and cancel your skin mist sponsorship. i'm looking at you, romance."

the said demon boy gasped audibly. “you wouldn’t!"

"not the ramen!"

and before any of them could blink, you grabbed the backs of all five demon heads like you were setting up some kind of conga line, and shoved them all down into a perfect 90-degree bow.

a series of "ow!" "that hurts" "watch the hair!" were heard.

at the same time, you bowed too. the full “we apologize for nearly ending the world” package.

“WE’RE. SORRY,” you barked through clenched teeth, your voice muffled by the angle and your own regret.

"... ere so....y" they mumbled through gritted teeth.

well, that apology was definetly not from the heart. but hey, you'd take what you could get, you suppose.

the huntrix members blinked at the synchronized bow, eyes wide with awe and slight fear.

“…how do you do it?” mira finally asked, half-wheezing in disbelief. “they listen to you?"

you straightened, releasing their heads. they all wobbled back into standing position with various degrees of insulted dignity, glaring on the floor like children who got scolded.

you exhaled and adjusted your jacket, unbothered.

“just think of them as children,” you said, patting your hair down. “muscular, powerful, soul-sucking, occasionally shirtless children. and you’ll get used to it.”

“excuse me?” abby scowled, an offended hand on his chest. “children?”

“we're literally older than your grandma," baby rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

zoey leans closer to you, seemingly over her disbelief as she excitedly clasps her hands on your shoulder. "you mean you control them? like... like dogs?"

"DOGS?!" one of them barks, you're 99% sure it's mystery, which doesn't really help their case.

you looked straight at her, dead in the eyes. “i schedule their naps. of course i control them.”

“uh, what? you don’t schedule my naps,” baby muttered.

“because you refuse to nap and you’re cranky for two days after.”

“it was one time!”

rumi exhales, chuckling under her breath. “that means they like you then. if they're willing to listen to you."

"YOU MAKE IT SOUND LIKE WE'RE DOGS!"

“sometimes,” you said, ignoring the chaos behind you. “sometimes they try to eat my leftovers and set the studio curtains on fire, but we’re working on it.”

“i—honestly, i’m more impressed than angry now,” mira admitted.

you sighed in relief, shoulders slumping as the tension rolled off your shoulders. “so.. you’re not gonna kill them?” you asked hopefully.

rumi laughed, shaking her head. "don't worry. they're safe now."

behind you, jinu gave you a thumbs-up. “see? we’re lovable.”

“you’re barely tolerable,” you said.

“same thing!” abby chirped.

"WE ARE NOT DOGS!"

[eden-axe]

Wrong Sparks p1

Summary: During an argument with Eddie, Volt gets upset with you and kicks you out of the bar, unknowingly hurting you.

Part 2

Eddie/Volt x gn!reader

Warnings: Yelling, electrocution, mentions of falling down stairs, Volt being possessive, minor violence.

Word Count: 1,727

After closing hours at the Breaker Box arguing could be heard to anyone who passed by Dorian, who was unlucky enough to have heard all of it for the past hour.

From inside the club you and Eddie were having, what you both would consider a ‘causal argument.’ Though to those who did not, your dynamic would think it would put Harper & Dirk's shouting matches to shame. Though every argument you had with Eddie had one thing in common: it came from a place of genuine concern and love; but paired with both of your stubborn ways, it looked more violent than you intended.

"Do I seriously have to ban you for a week so you can just cool down?" Eddie was growing tired from trying to get you to stay put at the bar for the past hour. You have been trying to help with maintenance, but he denied your offer every time since you sprained your wrist.

You knew his threat was empty, but with your mind growing just as tired, you believed him. You huffed, “Fine, then maybe I'll go be a regular at Bev's!”

Eddie reeled back at your very real threat. You did it before and didn't come to the Breaker Box for two days. All because Eddie wanted to stop serving you after you got drunk once & almost fell down the stairs; And if it weren't for Dorian pulling you into your room and getting you to bed safely. After Eddie learned what happened, you got into another argument, to which you went to Beverley's and slept next to Koa that night. You knew Eddie would blow a fuse that night out of concern if he saw you go up the stairs after getting drunk at Bev's.

When you realize you stepped out of line due to Eddie's silence, you shuffle your feet, thinking of what to say, but he beats you to it, "You can stay... but you can't help.

That comment sparks the fire of the argument in you again, "That's how we got here in the first place!"

Eddie sighs and pinches his nose, “Oh god, not this again" Eddie sighs & pinches his nose.

Your argument picks up again, possibly even louder now. The reason for the fight? You had recently sprained your wrist & cramped your hand from taking on a part time job from home while in ‘labor limbo’ and going around the house helping everyone else. Due to your exhaustion you didn't help much with repairs at the bar, but just sat at the bar and chatted with Eddie.

Eddie was there when you realized how bad your hands were; You were drying dishes while he washed, when you turned the glass & dropped it clutching your hand.

After a quick trip to Farya, she wrapped and iced your hand and told you to take it easy on physical labor. You listened to her for a few days; you stopped helping people around the house, and only took time in keeping pleasant conversation, and even took time off work. But now you feel guilty. Eddie had fallen further behind on work since you would stay after house at the Breaker Box for a chat. Now he was stretching himself thin to take care of you and the bar. When you didn’t come to the bar, Eddie would always come to find you and make sure you were resting… Which brings you back to now...

"I can handle it! Let me help!”

"No, you need rest. I've got it handled." The lights were starting to flicker as Eddie just wanted to get back to work and let you rest.

You scoffed, “Oh yeah, because working alone got you really far last time!"

You both paused as a bulb burst from above you. You look at Eddie, shocked at your own words. You start to move to him when a large hand grips your shoulder, painfully so.

“Volt—” Eddie starts, but doesn't get to finish.

Volt's skin, an inhuman shade of blue, stares coldly down at you, “You’re cut off for the day. Get. Out”

"Volt” You grab his wrist, about to beg him to hear you out, when he suddenly grabs your injured wrist.

Eddie tries to reach Volt seeing you hold back a pained yell, but Volt already has you out the door. "Stay away from Eddie." "Volt doesn't even look at you as he slams the door.

You bang on the door yelling for Volt to let you in, when a small current comes through the door. That small spark finally allows you to feel the pain in your arm, it's excruciating. Volt, whether knowingly or not, had electrocuted your arm. You let out an ear piercing scream, only muffled when someone pulled you into their chest & everything went dark.

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

When you wake up you notice Farya and Betty right by your sides. Betty was petting your head as Farya was checking up on your arm. Her poking and prodding didn’t bother you, but you were confused why she was here.

“What happened?” You look around, but Betty keeps you lying down.

Curt and Rod appear from the end of your bed. Curt starts off the explanation, “It was crazy. Dorian bursts into the room carrying your.”

“And you were practically dead. Limp. The whole dramatics.”

“Yup. Farya entered not long after, and you were messed up real bad. Whoever you fought, they got you good.”

“They singed your arm bad. Farya considered cutting it off.”

Your heart started sped up as your breathing became uneven.

“They are just messing around. That was never even an option cutie.” Betty reassured you. Her warmth helped a bit, but the second you calmed down, you shot back up.

“Eddie!” You leapt from the bed before anyone could stop you. You raced to the door, but before you could even touch the handle Dorian grabbed your hand.

You look at him, but he shakes his head, “You need rest. Not to go mingling about with them.”

“Dorian, he didn’t mean to,” Your legs gave out, and he picked you up. When he put you back on the bed, you grabbed his hand, “Can you at least check if they are alright, especially Eddie.”

When Dorian doesn’t respond, you resort to puppy eyes and beg, “Please?”

Dorian sighs and squeezes your hand, “Your heart is too big from them, luv’.”

You thank him, and tell him you’ll go rest. You go to turn the lamp off, but when you make contact with the switch it shocks you. You go to pull your hand back, but Farya is already checking your fingers, lightly touching them.

“Does it hurt?”

You look at your shaking hands being touched by her steady one, then look at her, “I- I can’t feel anything.”

She releases your hand which begins to shake even more violently. Curt and Rod get up and head to the door.

“Oh those two really have their wires crossed.”

“Ain’t nobody mess with our friend.”

When they reach Dorian, he blocks their path, and before they could protest he gives them a look that shuts them up, “Look fellas, I know emotions are high but please, stay here with em’. I’ll handle them, I swear.”

Curt and Rod nod and go back to your bed, Curt pulling out cards they had kept themselves busy with before you woke up.

Rod dealt the deck as Dorian closed the door behind him.

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

The Breaker Box had been closed for a few days after the incident with you and Volt. Eddie was against the idea, but Volt wanted him to rest and get the repairs done in a timely manner; it also gave Volt time to cool down.

Volt had regretted how rough he handled you that day, but when he saw Eddie blow a fuse he got overprotective. It was a rare thing for both of them, especially now that you joined them. When Volt got too overprotective, he boiled over to controlling and possessive, and this was the first time you had seen it. His blue flared side was something Eddie had told him to reel in, and Volt swears he’s been working on it.

Now Eddie was ignoring him as Volt refused to let him leave to check up on you. So now Volt is in the front cleaning up, while Eddie sits backstage. A loud banging on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“We’re closed.”

“Not here for a drink.”

Volt stood up straighter and opened the door when he heard Dorian’s voice. Volt invited him in and put on his warm host persona.

“How can I help you Dorian? You rarely come here, even when I personally invite you.”

Dorian glances around the room, “Where’s Eddie? I need to speak with both of you.”

Volt felt his protective nature boil up again, but Eddie’s voice carried from across the room, “What do you want? We’re busy right now.”

“Look I don’t want to be here either, but I need to know,” Dorian glares at the two of them, “Which one of you blokes messed with the power.”

“I beg your pardon? We’ve been here fixing the breaker.” Volt puffs out his chest as Eddie stands by his side.

“Look,” Dorian closes his eyes, “I know you lot had an argument the other day, but what you did was too far.”

Eddie moved his hand to his hip, “What was too far?”

“Ah… alrighty then.” Without warning Dorian reels back and punches Volt, sending him to the ground. Eddie rushes to Volt’s side and opens his mouth to yell.

“Look, if you want answers, ask your mate here. And please do stay away from the human unless you both have a proper apology. And I’ll think of letting you see them once they recover from your little stunt.” Dorian gives Volt a pointed look before taking off.

Volt sits up and looks at Eddie confused, “What does he mean ‘recover?’ Our live wire got hurt?”

Eddie looked at the door of the bar, “Yeah, they sprained their hand earlier. The one you grabbed, rather roughly.”

Volt looked down, the guilt finally catching up to him.

“We’ll go apologize to them tomorrow, for now let's deal with your face.” Eddie helps Volt up and takes him to the back to ice his face.

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

Note: I will be making a part 2, so if you want to be tagged send me a dm or ask and I'll make sure you're notified when it drops. Please know it may take me a week or so to get it done. Any comments, feedback, or support is appreciated.

Also requests are open, please check pin to check out who I write for!

[cameronsbabydoll]

can u do smth where ditzy reader tries to break up with drew bc she thinks that’s what he wants. and she’s like crying and stuff during jt and drew is like confused and then she explains and he’s just like sooo sweet and babying to her? (i have daddy issues so yes i wanna be comforted by a man)

SUGARGLASS ❀

drew starkey x younger!ditzy!reader

warnings: emotional vulnerability, insecurity/self-esteem issues, crying, implied age gap (older!drew x younger!reader), hints of public judgment/paparazzi drama, comfort after a self-initiated breakup attempt, daddy issues undertone, possessive/comforting male partner, affectionate pet names

you don’t even look him in the eye when you say it.

you’re standing in the kitchen—his kitchen, technically—wearing one of his hoodies and socks with little bows on the back, and your lip gloss is smeared from crying and wiping your nose on your sleeve. and you’ve got your stupid pink suitcase by the door like some kind of dramatic goodbye scene.

“i think we should break up,” you whisper.

it comes out so tiny. so shaky.

and drew just… blinks.

he’s still leaning against the counter with a half-empty glass of water, staring at you like you just told him the sky was purple. “what?”

you sniff. “i just think—i mean, i know you’re really busy, and you’re, like… older. and smart. and serious. and i’m just—” your voice cracks, and you shake your head hard. “—i’m just a distraction. and you don’t want someone like me forever.”

he sets the glass down. slowly. like he’s trying not to spook you.

“sweetheart,” he says gently. “come here.”

you shake your head again. “no, because i get it. i do. i know people laugh at us. i know your friends think i’m dumb. and i can’t even answer interview questions right and i forget things and i’m always asking stupid stuff and—and sometimes i don’t even know why you like me.”

his jaw clenches at that, but he keeps his voice soft. “baby.”

you finally look at him. tears spilling out of your big, glassy eyes, lashes clumped. you look like a heartbroken doll.

“you don’t have to explain,” you say, breath hitching. “i’ll just go. i’ll—i’ll pack up the rest of my stuff later. i left the pink toothbrush but it’s okay i can get another one—”

“baby.”

his voice is firmer this time, cutting through the panic spiral in your chest.

before you can start rambling again, he walks over and cups your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks like he’s trying to soothe the crying right out of you.

“i don’t want you to leave.”

you sniff again. “you don’t?”

“no. god, no.” his eyes are so gentle. “you think i care what anyone else thinks? you think i want someone who’s cold and serious and boring?” he tilts your chin up. “i like your sparkles. i like that you ask silly questions. i like when you call your lip liner your ‘little brown crayon.’”

you hiccup a laugh, even though your mascara’s a mess and your heart’s still aching. “you… do?”

he kisses the tip of your nose. “yes, angel. and i love that you’re soft and sweet and real. so stop trying to talk yourself out of being loved, okay? because i’m not going anywhere.”

your bottom lip wobbles. “but i thought maybe i was annoying—”

“you are.” he grins. “you’re the most adorable, clingy, loud little thing i’ve ever met. and you’re mine.”

then he picks you up—literally just lifts you off the floor and cradles you like a baby while you cling to him and sniffle against his neck.

“we’re not breaking up,” he murmurs into your hair. “you hear me?”

you nod, soft and melty in his arms. “m’kay.”

“good girl.”

[twilightofthesandwiches]

Man, this is such an interesting exchange, cause, like… in most stories, when a character says they'd like things to go on forever, that they want something eternal, they're pretty much setting themselves up for a very rude awakening. You know, nothing lasts forever, sometimes you have to learn how to let go, sometimes you need to move on. I mean, that's one of the core themes of Undertale.

Flowey/Asriel's whole motivation in the Pacifist Route is to make the Game go on forever, to put the ending eternally out of reach, to trap Frisk in an infinite time loop because he just can't move on from Chara's death.

Part of the narrative is that if the Player RESETs a Pacifist Route then they are no better than he was, since now they are also yanking everyone away from their Happy Ending so that we can play with them again, because we can't accept the game has Ended. The Murder Route is less focused on that whole theme but you replay it over and over again Chara will basically call you a weirdo for your obsessive clinginess to this world.

Part of Undertale's themes is the importance of an Ending to a story. A True Pacifist Player's true and final act of selflessness is to let go of their desire have things keep going for forever, to give up on Eternity… for the sake of the happiness of every other character in this world, for the sake of their Happy Ending.

On the other hand, as a Wise Dog once said…

Both Undertale and Deltarune love exploring the ways in which the world of a game is different or similar to the real world, how the perspective of a Player is so different from the perspective of an actual character living in this world and... Real Life doesn't have a clear set ending.

The Player is the only one from whom the story just ended. Everyone else just kept living their stories of friendship together, although they probably never experienced something as high-stakes as the events of 'Undertale' ever again. And... when endings do seem to come, they're not going to be as clear-cut and satisfying and clearly communicated as the Game Ending is to the Player.

…But on the other other hand, it is still true that some things in life do end and we do have to accept that. Like… you know, the most famous Ending in life… is Death.

Gerson hears Susie talk about how she wants things to go on forever, but he already decided he has no interest in Eternity himself. He knows that the Three Heroes are here to seal the Fountains that revived him, he knows that when they succeed he'd go back to being a dust-covered hammer, probably never to be revived again and… he's perfectly at peace with that. He's an old man who died from natural causes, he had a long, full and satisfying life, he already had his ending. What's happening now is some weird glorified epilogue, but he knows it will end soon. And that's fine by him, because the time for his story has ended.

He does have one major regret in life, his failure to properly support his son's writing, and he spends all of the time the Dark has given him to try and make up for it. But it's really just a matter of asking Susie to deliver his message. He doesn't try to maintain or expand the Dark World so he could make up for his mistakes or try to pull Alvin in so he could meet him again or find a way to come back to life in the Light World somehow… I wonder if Someone was expecting him to do something like that and that's why they tried to give him that Shadow Crystal, but we all know that didn't work

In a way… we've already seen Susie's rude awakening for her desire for a 'forever'. She formed such a powerful bond with "the Old Man", she definitely would've wanted their time together to last longer, to last as long as it could, to last forever. But that's not possible.

And even his appearance in the Third Sanctuary was kind of a surprise stroke of luck that shouldn't be taken for granted.

The whole point of the Second Sanctuary is that Susie realized that Gerson was dead in the Light World, and trying to cope with this idea, went straight to a kind of denial.

Well, she can just pop over to the Dark World and, like, ask him what the Door Code is, right? No big deal! I mean, it's not exactly like Susie and Kris were really at a dead-end, there were plenty of areas in the Church they haven't checked thoroughly at all (not just the Fire Extinguisher)…

It wasn't because she HAD to do it for the Door Code, it's because she had to do it to reassure herself that her new friend isn't really gone, that maybe he'll be there waiting for her in his study if she just High-Key Stab Reality and Unleash the Flow of Pure Darkness Energy…

But it wasn't that simple. At best you can say his appearance in the Third Sanctuary means that he can manifest in any Church Dark World created by the Knight… but seeing how Susie's whole goal at the moment is to stop the Knight from making more Dark Fountains, that's not exactly increasing her chances to see the Old Man again.

When they go to seal the Fountain, Susie muses about her 'stupid dream' that things will just… stay the same. That she'll keep having fun Dark World adventures with her friends through eternity. But she knows that although Kris fully understands her, that's not what's going to happen. It's both about how the stakes and seriousness of the story have been so overtly raised for her, the Knight and the Titans aren't just an ominous background detail. She has fought them both. But it's also because she is already experiencing an Ending right now. She knows that when Kris seals this Fountain, she will probably never see Gerson again.

…But despite all of that, I don't think the narrative completely rebuke Susie's desire for Eternity. After all, Gerson heard her say that, fully knowing his own fate, and he mostly seemed intrigued? It doesn't seem to waver his belief that she's the one who should be writing the story, that he could count on her to defy fate in the name of Justice. Y'know, Susie wasn't really thinking of the Inevitability of Death at that moment, she was just thinking that… she would like to keep having fun adventures with her friends in perpetuity. And is that such a bad thing to wish for?

I mean, just because something was a theme in Undertale doesn't mean that Deltarune can't use Susie to drive home the point of 'well, yeah, you're not wrong, but it's a bit more nuanced than that", there's precedence, in fact.

I'm thinking about, like, the Tenna storyline in Chapter 3. That was also about someone who needs to move on, Tenna is clinging to his happier past in unhealthy way and wants the fun of his game show to last forever. He also wanted his own version of Eternity. But the game still draws a contrast between Ralsei, who just tells him to remember the happy times and accept that everything ends, including his use

And Susie, who is the one who rejects this mindset. Her solution still has some level of moving on and accepting that the Dreemurr-Holiday Family Unit has ended, but that doesn't mean he's just got to lay down and accept that his whole life is over. She comes up with a plan that ensures the continuation of his life and his dreams. It's an Ending of sorts, but an Ending that has a continuation attached to it. And it came specifically from Susie's distaste for endings, from her aggressive rejection of going gently into that good night.

There are certain things, certain endings, we all have to accept, but there is also so much that is worth rebelling against, that is worth fighting for. Susie's desire for an 'Eternity' might be a bit oversimplistic, but it is also the source of her rebellious spirit, out-of-the-box-thinking and the shining hope that Gerson sees in her. So I don't think the story will dismiss it outright, we really just have to wait and see just how much of that 'Eternity' Susie will manage to keep...

[gunstellations]

🫣

[frightfullytreeish]

imagine eddie making a new friend, someone who's 100% unrelated to anyone or anything else in eddie's life, just a guy he meets at the gym and vibes with. and the guy thinks that buck is eddie's husband. it takes eddie a while to realise that's what his new pal had taken away from their chat about their kids, where more than half of the photos of chris eddie showed off had buck in them. so at first eddie's just too fucking startled to correct him when idk CRAIG says 'oh shoot that's my bus, gotta go, but hey you and buck should come round for dinner one day. my husband keeps saying we need to make more queer friends with kids since we moved here! ok byeeee' and eddie goes home thinking I'll just explain next time I see him it's fine and hey I can hook him up with hen and karen I bet they'll get along great. and the thought makes him feel...... something.

and he is going to explain to craig, he is, but the next time they bump into each other is right after him and buck have had an argument, like they keep having since buck moved into his new place, and it's nice to be able to vent to someone who doesn't know buck but who has the right... well, no, the wrong idea about what place buck occupies in eddie's life. but it's nice to be able to vent without having to explain. so eddie doesn't explain. and he keeps not explaining, while craig gets the impression that eddie and buck are going through a really rough patch since buck's dad died but eddie wants to make it work while buck keeps pulling away.

OBVIOUSLY they're grabbing coffee one day when buck happens to walk into the same coffee shop. EDDIE! HEY! and... uh who's this?

eddie, kill bill sirens blaring: this is craig. my... friend. from the gym.

buck: oh that's cool... you've never mentioned him before....

craig, desperately: you must be buck!! I've heard so much about you! don't worry, I'm a married man, not that you would have anything to worry about anyway. eddie's so committed

buck: he is?

eddie with one thousand yard stare: i am

[jacksabbotts]

✧ cold storage — ❪ part two ❫

. ᵒ . ➛ PAIR . dr. jack abbot ( the pitt ) x fem!morguetech!reader . ᵒ . ➛ SUMMARY . after jack’s furious outburst in the morgue, you can’t sit with the silence—or the guilt. even with no space left and no backup available, you wheels a stretcher up to the er yourself, determined to prove you are doing your job. what follows is a quiet, desperate attempt to avoid confrontation while making things right even if it means handling four dead bodies alone. . ᵒ . ➛ TRIGGER WARNINGS . lowercase intended!!! \ age gap ( reader is late 20s, jack is late 40s ) \ medical setting ( hospital/morgue ) \ mentions of corpses / dead bodies / autopsy prep \ death discussed clinically \ anxiety / overthinking / spiraling thoughts \ harsh tone from a superior ( prior scene reference ) \ self-isolation / emotional suppression \ physical overexertion / self-neglect \ internalized guilt \ negative self-talk \ touch aversion ( mild )

main masterlist | series masterlist | join the taglist | inbox | dividers by @cafekitsune

you pressed the button for the third floor.

the elevator doors closed too slowly.

your hands were clammy around the collapsible gurney handle, your palms sticking to the rubber grip as the platform shuddered into motion. you hated these elevators—how loud they were, how long they took, how the lights overhead always buzzed like they were about to die.

you hated this entire decision.

but you were doing it anyway.

because it had been an hour since he stormed out and the silence was unbearable.

you’d refreshed your email inbox eight times. no response from admin. no pickup update from the funeral home. no call from your boss the medical examiner, who was likely asleep and blissfully unaware of the fact that the basement morgue was packed full and you were about to try and make room for four more.

this was stupid.

there was no room.

but the idea of him—jack abbot—still believing you weren’t doing your job? that you were down here eating lentil soup while patients bled out upstairs?

it gnawed at you. it rotted you.

so you brought the gurney. the elevator dinged at every floor like it was mocking you. you exhaled slowly. in through the nose. out through the mouth.

okay. just apologize. simple. direct. professional.

you tried again, whispering under your breath :

'dr. abbot, i just wanted to say i’m sorry again for the delay—'

no. too stiff. too scripted.

'i know it’s not ideal, but i’m doing my best to keep things moving—'

too defensive.

'i didn’t mean to make things harder for you, i just—'

too pathetic.

the elevator stopped at the second floor. no one got in. you swallowed hard. tried again.

'it’s just me downstairs. i’ve been trying to manage everything as best i can. i should’ve escalated the situation sooner. i’m really, truly sorry—'

and then maybe he’d say—

no.

no, don’t imagine what he’ll say.

you weren’t good at that.

jack didn’t follow scripts. he didn’t talk like anyone else. he didn’t even look at you like anyone else did—and you weren’t sure if that was good or bad yet. all you knew was that when his voice had filled that cold little morgue, something inside you had snapped in half.

no matter which version you picked, they all made your stomach twist. none of them sounded right. none of them felt like enough.

you shouldn’t be doing this. you shouldn’t be making space for four new bodies. but the funeral home had come through early—just two pickups, but enough to buy you drawer room and a single empty table.

you could’ve waited for security to bring them down.

but part of you didn’t want to look like you were hiding.

the elevator dinged.

the doors opened into fluorescent light and barely-controlled chaos. someone shouted a room number. monitors beeped down the hall. a paramedic wheeled in a gurney while two residents followed, talking too fast.

you slipped into the corner like a shadow, trying to make yourself as small as possible as you scanned the room for him.

jack wasn’t there.

your shoulders dropped an inch. not in relief. not quite. you’d been bracing for impact. now you didn’t know what to do with the leftover adrenaline.

you angled your stretcher toward bay two—the furthest from the main desk, where the most recent doa had been placed. you could be fast. quiet. invisible.

'hey!'

you flinched.

dana. you didn't know her, but you know of.

of course, things could never go the way you planned them.

she strode over from the central desk, still in her navy compression top and trauma boots, a clipboard tucked under one arm. 'your the new morgue tech, right? you’re here for the stiffs?' she asked, jerking her head toward the curtain. 'jack's gonna lose his mind. he’s been bitching for hours.'

you couldn't help the rumbling in your stomach as dana referred to dr. abbot as jack. were they really that close? they seemed close in age and had the same no fuck around attitude. but you supposed it wasn't any of you business and nodded.

you nodded quickly, eyes darting toward the er entrance. 'great, i'll just get him so he can sign the transfer papers,' she turned to walk away and you stopped her with what could only be defined as a mouse peep.

'um. could you just give him the papers after i leave? i'll sign them and everything.'

dana blinked. 'why?'

you hesitated for a moment, probably trying to come up with a believable lie. 'he’s busy. he doesn’t need to worry about . . . something that’s just my job.'

she raised an eyebrow. 'you sure? he’s been chewing everyone out about this. if i tell him you’ve got space—'

'please,' you said again, more firmly. 'it’s okay, really. he needs to worry about the live ones, i've got the dead ones.' you immediately wince at your phrasing but don't say anything else.

dana looked at you for a beat too long. her expression softened slightly. 'alright, morgue girl. holler if you need any help.'

you nodded.

she patted your shoulder once—light, but enough to make you tense—and turned away without another word.

you exhaled slowly.

your hands were trembling again, just a little. the unexpected social interaction was a little more draining than you had anticipated. you adjusted your grip on the stretcher and moved toward the curtain, telling yourself you’d be gone in five minutes.

tops. no conversations. no confrontations. and absolutely no Jack, if you could help it. just a job. you were good at your job.

you took them down one at a time.

no one offered to help—not because they were cruel, but because you didn’t ask. the er was busy, and you didn’t want to pull anyone away from the living. besides, you were used to it. the elevator was slow, and the stretchers stuck sometimes when you turned them, but you managed. you always managed.

by the time you returned with the fourth body, your shoulders ached and your hands were stiff around the rails. you were sweating under your scrubs, even in the chill of the morgue—but the work gave your mind something to focus on. something that wasn’t jack abbot or the echo of his voice in your head.

the funeral home had picked up two earlier—unclaimed cases from last week. that gave you just enough room to do what needed doing, if you were smart about it.

and you were always smart about it.

you turned the thermostat down as far as it would go. the whole morgue shivered in response—cold creeping into the corners like frostbite, numbing the walls, the vents, your fingers. you didn’t mind. you preferred it that way. like a walk-in freezer, steady and sterile.

you slid the first two onto the autopsy tables. not ideal, but manageable. you pulled the vinyl covers over them and laid their charts on the tray beside each one. you’d process them later, when things were quiet again.

the third went between the file cabinets.

you’d cleared that space before—back when the coolers were under repair. it wasn’t perfect, but it was dark and low and close to the vents. the cold pooled there. it would hold.

the last body took the most time.

there was nowhere left.

you looked around the room, scanning every corner, every shadow, until your gaze landed on the empty gurney beside your desk.

it wasn’t even a decision. just motion. you rolled it forward, locked the brakes, and transferred the body as gently as you could. you covered them. labeled the tag. added a note to the chart.

then sat down.

right there. at your desk. beside the dead.

it didn’t bother you.

not really.

you’d always been good at compartmentalizing. at pretending you were part of the quiet. part of the stillness. being surrounded by the dead was no different than being surrounded by filing cabinets or lab equipment. they didn’t need you to make conversation. they didn’t expect you to smile.

the body beside your desk wasn’t a person anymore.

just paperwork.

just weight.

you rubbed your fingers, cracked from the cold, and jotted down notes in your log. your breath fogged the air.

you didn’t know what time it was.

you didn’t think about jack.

not directly.

but your hands trembled when you reached for the next file.

just a little.

🔖 . @princesssunderworld @mayabbot @imherefordeanandbones @arigoldsblog @oldmanbunnylover @i-mushi @autumnleaves1991-blog @lovelexi717 @peggyofoz @qtmoonies @nfwmb-gvf @britt217 @babybatreads @cheekym8s @bitteroceanlove @spooky-librarian-ghost @dr-yapper @yutasgem @keseqna @gardeniarose13 @witchbitchlovesdilfs @sotragedynut @robbyrosierobinavitch @anglophileforlife @flyinglama @reignbooks8506 @kmc198899-blog @sillymuffintrashflap @letstryagaintomorrow @caterpillarskimono @maiamore @chuiisi @madzleigh01 @qardasngan @imightbeinsanebutwtv @shadowfoxey @foolishseven @anxiousfuckupon @lumpypoll @coldmuffinbanditshoe @blueliketheseaa @justfaefaeee @sweetdayme4427 @404creep ( if you user is white, that means i could not tag you. i copy and pasted usernames straight from the forms so if you would like to send another form with the updated username you are welcome to do so 🫶😁 the link is above )

[salemisha]

how i manifested my mother cancer away + shifted and more through non-dualism/no concepts.

im writing this post for those who feel alone who feel like they have gotten minimal results and have been trying for years. before learning of non dualism, then no concepts, etc and the rest is history.

because i was like you. i used to cry whine and complain and be bitter that this person shifted and yet i didnt, used to take numerous breaks etc. i knew of LOA since 2018, but learned of loablr in 2023. i joined during the states vs affirmation bullshit (still think both is dumb) and the edward art shit and i was desperate to find answers. none of it helped. and i grew more and more angry desperate. i gave up on loa, and was depressed for months.

things changed in late 2023 when i came back from the aftermath of the 4dbarbie nondualism vs LOA war? everyone kept saying nondualism is the same as states and other shit and at first i thought it was right, but i was desperate and so i looked into nondualism.

in the back of my mind i kept thinking "yeah this dumb asf lol" but still i was on the urge of ending it all. i read, overconsumed, and read some more and then thought it was too much and also gave up on it.

and then may 2024 the worst month of my life. my mom was diagnosed with peritoneal carcinomatosis. lord i cried so hard at the thought of losing my mom, even getting a little teary eyed typing this. but i had nothing and no one to turn to and so i turned back to nondualism and the books that were recommended by blogs.

and so i did. i wont say it was easy, letting go of the thoughts of her having it, allowing it to be the thoughts feelings and emotions and being scared that she did have it. not arguing against it, not affirming, or visualizing that she has it but allowing the thoughts to be.

i wanted to manifest an early appointment because i was scared she didnt have long. but i knew that this was simply fear and allowed it to be, for days and weeks, until finally i had the thought that she would be fine either way. and literally let it go completely.

next day i got the appointment i wanted. this was the first major sign of manifesting. like my first time manifesting something major. and i applied what i did to "manifesting" ( read letting go of identification with thoughts) that my mom didnt have cancer and she was fine. this one was harder with many tests and biopsies and people saying one thing and the other but i had no one else to turn to but myself and those books.

and she was fine.

ever since i manifested other things like:

shifts (shifted to an old scrapped dr that maybe i will expand on one day) and other random realities (yes it was intentional to test myself).

i also manifested my ac central unit being fixed without having to pay 8k to replace the entire unit.

good grades and more.

i wont say i fully scorched my mind of limitations, but i will say that im in a far better place than i was before learning of nondualism.

anyways my point of this post is that just keep going, you will find what works for you. it might take some time but you will figure it out somehow some way. if my negative ass mind could do these things yall can too. dont sell yourself short.

[evangelicgrl]

hcs + mini scenarios: saja boys as yanderes

they say “love can be too much”, but when you’re talking about literal demons from hell, the lines begin to blur. (un)fortunately for you, you’re the special recipient of their monstrous desires. will you resist or give in?

warnings: MDNI. contains general yandere themes (possessive and obsessive behavior, freaky behavior, stalking, killing, manipulation, etc.) however, i’m fond of “soft yanderes” the most so that’s what you’ll be seeing here, meaning none of them force reader to do anything against their will.

wc: 3,220

jinu

after being consumed by his guilt and shame for four centuries, he has already come to terms with his demonic nature despite the torment being never-ending, slowly eating away at the last flickers of his soul. it doesn’t matter anymore, he only needs you to share his pain with. if not you, then there is no one else. you’re irreplaceable in his eyes.

he’s highly methodical when it comes to executing his plans. being in control means less mistakes, and less mistakes mean less shame. jinu is prudent, he bargains his way through everything with cunning schemes and flowery words; he won’t do anything that won’t benefit the both of you. in the end, he subjects himself to further damnation by convincing himself you will be his salvation. it’s a vicious cycle he’s not willing to break.

with most people he’s standoffish and unapproachable—cocky even. he would be aloof, and he will make it known that he is a tough nut to crack. he won’t give anyone chances to distract him from pursuing you. when it comes to you though, it’s a whole other story. it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he folds for you. he puts you on a high pedestal, thinking you’re above everyone else, including himself. if you tease him about it he won’t deny it nor get mad at you, he’ll only get pouty.

overcompensating for his past mistakes, jinu would always want to do everything in his power to provide for your needs. want him to wash the dishes? they’re squeaky clean before you can say anything. want him to cook for you? you don’t even have to ask, just tell him you’re hungry and he’ll deal with the rest! you need him to beat someone up in your stead? say no more, darling! he doesn’t ever stop to think whether you’re in the right or wrong because he doesn’t care.

for a while, being in a relationship with him will almost look normal, that is until you notice some of your items going missing, him insisting to have a cctv installed inside your bedroom for “protection” or whatever, him sticking close only to you while being wary of everyone else, and some blood stains appearing on his clothes here and there that he always insists were minor injuries he got from touring with the saja boys.

“this is the third time we’ve installed another cctv, jinu. i think our home's secure enough, don’t you think?” you raised an eyebrow, nudging the raven-haired man’s side. jinu hummed, not paying any mind to what you’ve just said. how can he, when he feels everything is right when you’re near? he tightened his hold around your waist, hiding his face on the crook of your neck.

jinu breathes in your smell. god, you’re so intoxicating; he wants to crawl inside you and never leave.

“i know, but i don’t want anything to happen to you while i’m on tour with the saja boys; i worry about you a lot,” he whispers. he begins peppering kisses on your bare skin slowly; you shivered at the sensation. “fine, but this is the last one, alright?” you almost stuttered, your face heating up from his ministrations.

“of course, my love.” he considers the thought of marking you up with his sharp canines right here, right now, but he immediately disregards the thought.

he won’t do anything that will make you hate him, he’s lost far too much for him to mess this relationship up now. as for his obsessive monitoring of your everyday life and your coworkers who were too friendly with you winding up dead mysteriously… well, ignorance is bliss, right?

abby

abby is pretty flexible and adaptable. it doesn’t take him long to get used to new environments like the human world. being able to find shortcuts for a speedy escape route easily works to his advantage if he messes up a murder. sure, he can be quite an airhead sometimes, but he’s not that stupid. he gets his way around problems with his fists first, so as long as he doesn’t encounter complicated people—demons—like jinu, he’ll be fine.

he’s quite violent, and his muscles are put to good use when it comes to bashing heads in; he’s pleased by this fact, they’re not sturdy-looking for nothing! abby can snap most things in half just from sheer strength alone. with that being said, while abby is brash, he’s not entirely careless. he knows how to control himself like exerting the right force when he’s holding something and breaking someone’s neck.

no matter what you look like and whether or not you’re physically stronger than him, they won’t matter to abby. in his head you’re someone special to him, therefore he treats you gently like glass. god forbid he accidentally breaks a bone or two in your body, because he won’t ever forgive himself for it. while he’s proud of his muscles, he’s surprisingly self conscious about his strength at times, especially when he’s with you. he’s aware enough that a demon’s physique is far superior than a human’s.

ironically enough, he’s a physically affectionate guy. he wants to be close to you at all times, touching or holding you in some way both in public and in private. he doesn’t really care if people around him are bothered by the pda, your opinion is the only thing he holds in high regard. if you don’t tell him to behave, then he won’t have any qualms draping his body all over yours while you’re out and about.

abby is also extremely protective, he gives little thought to how other people and demons alike perceive you, which means he deems anyone that stares too long at you a threat. his cleanups after a particular murderous streak are sloppy, but he tries his best since he doesn’t want you to find out. additionally, nobody will be spared once he’s done dealing with the imbeciles who thought they could get away with disrespecting you. you never asked him to be one, but he sees himself as your knight in shining abs anyway.

“i’ve heard from my friend the creep around our area got their head bashed in to the point they became unrecognizable,” you recounted to abby, whose focus is entirely on lifting weights twice the size of his arms.

“oh yeah?” he replied in a disinterested manner, clearly he couldn’t give less of a shit about that bastard; he’d gladly do it again if given the chance.

serves them right for attempting to assault you.

“if i’m being honest, whoever the perpetrator was, they did us all a favor,” you sighed in relief. he smiles. good, you’re happy. if only you knew he did it all for you.

“agreed.” abby figured a curt response was enough to not give him away. he might not be smart in all the right ways like a certain raven-haired demon was, but he always tries his best to watch what he says in front of you. if you believe abby is a cocky yet sweet musclehead who can do no wrong, then he’d be happy to keep up the illusion for you.

you don’t need to know about his true nature right now, that can wait.

romance

he’s the most obsessive one out of the bunch, which is unsurprising given his namesake. rather than monopolizing your attention and going after others who do, he spends most of his time thinking about you and finding more information about you. it’s a miracle you’ve never caught him in the act once. in his opinion, even though he’s not the brightest, he still knows his way around whenever he stalks you, which is an everyday occurrence.

everything you say, do, and give attention to, romance is instantly filing them all away in his sick head. after all, if he knows everything about you, then you won’t ever feel the need to throw him away and replace him with a good for nothing human. he might have not told you that he’s a demon yet, but when he treats you so right, surely you’ll accept him? he hopes you do; he really, really does. his whole life revolves around you at this point that if you reject him, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

it’s fitting for someone like him, a nameless demon who can only recall vague memories of his past life; it’s alright, he doesn’t care one bit at all. why live in the past when he can live in the present? after all, you’re the one who gives his eternal suffering meaning. the reason he became “romance saja” was to come into your life and for you to come into his, that he’s sure of now. he wholeheartedly believes you’re his soulmate.

romance appears suave and calm in front of you, sweeping you off your feet with flirtatious remarks. internally though, all he wants is for you to take charge of his every action and make him bend to your will; salivating at the thought, it’s basically his number one fantasy. other demons might call him pathetic for submitting to a human, but he knows they’re wrong. he won’t do it for all humans, only you. you’re different from the rest.

while he’s relatively harmless, he’s still a demon, making him highly destructive when he’s feeling emotional. if push comes to shove, he won’t hesitate to tear out someone’s throat open. once it reaches this point, then it means he’s been pushed to the brink of insanity. he would be blinded by his rage so much so he might not even realize he did something heinous until he recovers and calms down. be careful with how you treat him, you wouldn’t want his hidden jagged edges to come out.

“romance, you did pretty great during your photoshoot! i bet the fans would love it!” your eyes twinkled, smiling at him brightly. romance smiles unsurely, then tilts his head in confusion. “the fans? but i did it for you since you’re into that designer brand, right?”

he hums and twirls you around, his lovesick gaze becoming apparent. “you’re right, but the fans are much more important.” you laugh. his eyes darkened.

“no, they’re not.”

“huh?” you blink. what was that?

you don’t know if it was just your imagination, but you could’ve sworn his eyes flashed yellow for a second. you shake your head and sigh, maybe it’s the stress getting to you now.

“i mean, compared to the fans, you’re still my darling beloved. naturally, your opinion matters to me the most.” his hands settle on your waist as he pulls you in and leans his forehead on your own. “so, do you like it or not?”

“of course i do! don’t be silly, romance.” you chuckled, tweaking his nose playfully. he sighed as he pulls you closer to him.

everything he does is for your approval, he hopes you won’t forget that.

mystery

to this day, nobody can get a good read of his overall personality; the fact that he opts to hide half of his face doesn’t help either. he leans into his demonic instincts more compared to the rest, seeing no reason to pretend he could act like a human again when he’s anything but. because of this, he’s easily the most feral guy of the group, making him highly indecipherable. he navigates his way around his environment with quick, silent precision akin to a predator studying its prey.

don’t be fooled by his looks and seemingly placid demeanor, he’s freaky and would most likely be the type to dig around in your dirty laundry to sniff and lick your used clothes and undergarments; he feels invigorated doing this, it reminds him that deep inside his undead body, he can still feel. and because he doesn’t express himself half of the time, he relies on your emotions to gauge his options and do what he feels would make you be the least upset with him.

with you, mystery learns to have some semblance of control over himself. however, there are times when he can’t reel it in, so if he growls at someone getting too close to you, just tell him off and he’ll snap out of it. while he mutters a string of apologies, take this time to pet his head and reward him for a job well done in order for him to really remember what you want from him. to an extent, you can condition him to do your bidding if you’re determined enough to do so.

despite this, he’s highly possessive of you. if your family and friends are the type of people who hog you all to themselves, they would be in danger with him around. regardless of your relationships with other people, he doesn’t take too kindly to scum taking away what is his. mystery may not hurt you in any way, but the others are free game to him. simply eating their souls will not be enough, he’s brutal and would often prolong torturing people and/or demons if he despised them enough.

he goes to extreme lengths to show you he doesn’t mean any harm to you. more often than not, he likes showing off his qualities he thinks you appreciate the best; compliments can go a long way with him. your praise and your smiles directed at him repeating in his mind's eye like a mantra he never wants to end. before you, he never cared for anyone else, but now that you’re here, the love he has for you makes his nonexistent dead heart threaten to burst out of his chest. he's animalistic in a lot of ways, but even then he’s still considerate with your needs if you just forget the fact he likes stealing your underwear.

“stay away from them before you regret it,” mystery warned the person before him. his posture is rigid as he stares them down with a menacing aura, not backing out from the confrontation. “hey, hey! mystery! what did i say about threatening other people?!” you pulled him aside and reprimanded him. the other person could only blink in bewilderment before scurrying off to who knows where.

you imagined a pair of puppy ears appear on his head when he frowned and dipped his head in shame.

“sorry…” he whispers, if it weren’t for the fact that this café is sparse right now, you wouldn’t have heard him, and to be put into this position is embarrassing enough as is. “whatever, let’s just go home. i lost my appetite anyway,” you mumble.

mystery observes your facial expression under his bangs, the gears creaking and turning inside his head. he’s really done it, huh? well then, he just needs to make it up to you once you’re home.

he stares at your plump limps intently, feeling somewhat excited to make you sing praises for him again while he worships your body.

baby

on one hand, baby is bratty, mean, and everything in between; he’s evil incarnate with someone who isn’t you. on the other hand, he’s angelic and caring with you. the duality of his personality never fails to astound the others around him. being a master of deception, he can be quite unpredictable and hard to read, always hiding his devious tricks with a bright smile and an “innocent” gaze. you’re lucky he loves you, because the ones he hates aren’t so lucky. the fact that they crossed paths with him to begin with already sealed their fates.

he absolutely adores being spoiled by you; he would play up his charm to 1000% if it meant he gets to be the little spoon during your cuddling sessions for a while longer. your warmth enveloping him comforts him, and he would kill for this very same comfort if he feels it’s getting threatened by an outside force. he’s also possessive, but not to the extent that mystery is. he knows how to be mindful and play his cards right. if he needs to paint the others as bad people in your eyes to make him look good in return then so be it.

with that being said, baby is not entirely opposed to the idea of spoiling you instead. he finds it comes easier to him whenever you’re put in a state where you have no choice but to rely on someone’s help, such as being ill and bedridden or being drunk out of your mind. during these times, he coos into your ear and tells you he’ll never allow anyone other than him to take care of you since he knows you the best, and it’s true! his long record of stalking you proves that!

you’ll never have a dull day with him, somehow he always makes you do either creative or outlandish things, of course given that doing them won’t harm you. he thinks he’ll shrivel up and die if he accidentally gives you a paper cut while folding paper cranes for fun. he’ll offer to let you slice his skin with the same paper too "to make it even” because he’s simply weird like that. it doesn’t matter whether you indulge his odd requests or not, he will keep asking something similar anyway whenever he accidentally hurts you.

baby is extremely cruel, but he’s efficient with his murders, choosing to take the fastest route possible. he doesn’t want to spend any more time than necessary looking at his victims’ disgusting and ugly faces while the light in their eyes fades away. the satisfaction he feels from killing people is only fleeting, and before he knows it, he’s immediately cleaning up after himself so he can go back in your arms as soon as possible. you’re the only one that matters to him in this world!

“baby! i bought ice cream from the store!” closing the front door behind you, you slipped off your shoes and began trudging in the living room. not a second later, a blur of blue zooms towards you, engulfing you in a bear hug. “yay! welcome back, sweetie!” his cheers were muffled by your clothes seeing as he buried his face in them.

you laugh at his antics, bringing a hand up to brush his bangs away from his face. in response, he looks up at you in a daze.

“okay, let’s get this bad boy in the freezer before it melts.”

“aye, aye! captain!” he jokingly salutes before helping you carry the other things you brought along with you. but then he stops in his tracks, his gaze falling on the scratch on your hand. it was light enough to not be seen by the human eye, but unfortunately he’s a demon.

and demons have sharper senses.

“where did you get that?” you look down to your hand, and you chuckle. “oh, this?” he slowly nodded. “i accidentally grazed a sharp object at work today. it’s nothing serious, don’t worry.”

“i see!” and just like that, he’s back to his cheerful self. you didn’t know it yet, but he promised to himself to keep a closer eye on you from now on so he can pay a visit to the home of the person who thought leaving a sharp object around near you was a good idea.

he can hardly wait to meet them!

[buckysleftbicep]

how do you think bucky would react to shy reader asking to turn the lights off during sex because they’re insecure ??

i think bucky would want to desperately show you just how perfect you are.

hell, if he could spend the rest of his life proving it to you, he probably will.

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni

Bucky’s the kind of man who’d notice right away.

The way your eyes flick toward the lamp. The hesitation in your voice. The way your hands fidget just slightly when you reach for the hem of your shirt.

You don’t even have to say it—not at first. He knows. Feels it in the tremble of your breath and the way you pull the sheets higher, like they can protect you from his gaze.

But when you do finally whisper it—“Can we… can we turn the lights off?”—he doesn’t tease. He doesn’t mock, doesn’t even hesitate.

He just pauses. Quiet. Still.

And then he reaches for your hand.

His thumb brushes your knuckles, soft and slow. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice like silk and gravel all at once, “I’ll do anything you need. Lights off, slow down, or stop altogether. You just say the word.”

But then he leans in—closer, lower, until his mouth is at your ear.

“But I need you to know something. I need you to hear me when I say it.” His hand lifts, not to grope or grab, but to cup your face. To hold you steady. Like you’re fragile, like you’re precious.

“You’re the most beautiful fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen. You don’t ever have to hide from me. Not your body. Not your sounds. Not the way you fall apart when I touch you.”

Because Bucky doesn’t just want to fuck you. He wants to worship you. Every inch of you, every soft curve, every scar, every place you’ve ever second-guessed. To him, your insecurities are sacred ground—the parts of you no one else has been trusted with.

And if you let him? He’ll prove it.

He kisses your stomach first. Then lower. Trails his mouth down your body with the kind of reverence most men reserve for altars.

Fingers dragging up your thighs, thumbs spreading you open, slow and unhurried. He’s not in a rush. He wants to look. Wants you to feel seen. Revered.

He’ll murmur against your skin, voice hoarse and thick with hunger—“Gonna show you how fucking perfect you are. Gonna make you feel it, baby.”

And when his mouth finds your pussy, he doesn’t hold back.

He devours you like a man possessed—deep, messy, loud. His nose presses into your clit, tongue working in long, wet strokes that have your hips jolting before you can stop them.

He moans into you, like your taste alone gets him off, like your pleasure is the thing that keeps his heart beating.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he groans, licking a fat stripe up your center before sucking your clit into his mouth. “Look at this pretty pussy, princess. Don’t hide from me. Let me see how you fall apart.”

If you close your eyes, he’ll pull back. “Uh-uh, sweetheart. Eyes on me."

He grabs the mirror.

Drags it over so it’s angled just right. So you can see the way your thighs shake. The way his tongue glistens with your slick. The raw desperation in his eyes as he buries his face between your legs like it’s the only place he belongs.

“You watch yourself fall apart for me,” he rasps. “You watch what you do to me.”

And when he finally fucks you?

It’s slow at first. Deep. Intentional.

He holds your thighs open with a bruising grip, fucks into you like you’re something to be savored—like the tight heat of your cunt is a reward for being good.

He leans over you, body caging yours in, and presses kisses to your jaw, your collarbone, your tits, every breath ragged with restraint.

“Feel that?” he groans, cock dragging deep and slow inside you. “That’s how tight you are, baby. How fucking perfect. God, you’re squeezing me like you were made for this.”

And maybe you were. Because when Bucky’s inside you, when his voice is thick with need and his thrusts grow rougher, deeper, more frantic—you feel worshipped.

Not just wanted. Not just fucked. Worshipped.

He’ll have you gasping, nails digging into his back, your body singing with pleasure and heat and the kind of dizzy, stretched-out fullness that leaves you crying out his name. And he’ll still beg for more.

“Give me another, sweetheart. Come on, that’s it. Cum on my cock—let me feel it.”

And when you do? When your body clamps down and your voice breaks and you cum hard and loud despite your shy little request to keep the lights off?

He glows.

He fucks you through it, jaw clenched, sweat beading on his brow, lips at your ear as he mutters praise like a prayer—“So beautiful, baby. So good for me. I’d spend forever right here, just making you cum. Over and over. Don’t you get it? I need this. Need you.”

And afterward, when your thighs are shaking and your chest is rising too fast, he’ll wrap you in his arms like you’re breakable again. Kisses your shoulder, your cheek, your hair.

Lights off? Sure. If that’s what makes you feel safe.

But Bucky will still touch you like he’s memorizing a masterpiece in the dark.

Because to him? You are.

a/n: wrote this piece on the train and gosh, i can definitely see bucky being into body worship, especially because he wants you to feel wanted and loved by him.

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: daddy kink, explicit sexual content

The world slows down. 

Everything outside the house fades to the background. His job, your job, the noise in between. Outside of checking in on Gaz and Mara and taking care of Duchess, he keeps himself laser focused. On you. 

He gets your words back a few days after the robbery happens. They’re slow. Heavy. Weighed down by the chaos and pain in your mind, gaze bottomless and bleak, every time he stares into your eyes his chest hurts like he’s taken a fist to the sternum. You croak a question just past sunrise after sleeping for twelve hours. 

“How long was I out?” You’re blinking, trying to clear the dried tears from your lashes, brow furrowed, and he smiles for the first time in a week, savoring the sound of your voice before ignoring your question. 

“Hi sweetheart.” 

“Hi daddy.” You whisper on an exhale, and press your face to the crux of his neck and shoulder. He bites his tongue. Doesn’t tell you how happy he is you’re talking, doesn’t say anything about being relieved. He gives you time for this moment and nothing else. The warmth of your breath tickles his bare skin. “Thank you.” 

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He kisses the top of your head, mindlessly rubbing circles into your body, your shoulders, your back, any place in between. “Taking care of you is like breathing. You’re mine.” You dot your lips onto his jaw and burrow yourself into his body, your home, the place where you’ll always belong. 

Recovery from trauma is climbing a mountain, not running an easy, asphalt paved marathon. There are rocks and scrambles and lost maps. It’s not something laid out perfectly before you, it’s not something you can easily see. It’s hard and grueling and miserable. 

You take it on the chin though, and he’s so proud of you. Proud every time you come out of therapy with a nervous and slightly relieved smile, proud every time he catches you leaning over a mixing bowl at home and humming. All the changes hurtle towards you like a meteor crashing to earth, and while you stumble and fall, he’s always there to pull you back up. 

“I can’t believe we sold out again.” He raises his eyebrows. 

“It’s been happening for weeks baby. People love what you do, what you make.” 

“I know but it’s um.. it’s a little crazy right?” You’ve quit your job. You tried but couldn’t make it through the front doors, and he didn’t push you. It works out in his favor, after all. So you decided to do something else. An out of home bakery where you take orders at your own pace and make special occasion cakes or baskets of pastries, both savory and sweet. You have a consistent stall at the local farmer’s market, where you sell small things and loaves of bread, sweet rolls and whatever else you’ve picked for that day. Mara handles everything, the website, the payments, the deliveries, and you focus on the thing you love. It’s only been up and running for a few weeks, but word of mouth has already spread, and your social media accounts have thousands of followers. The waitlist for your weekly sourdough loaves that you sell at the farmers market is long, and the stand always has a line and sells out. They all wait their turn to fill brown paper bags with whatever you’re selling, each one folded over and stamped proudly with the name of your business. 

Raspberry Girl. 

“No. It’s not crazy.” He lightly traces the slope of your hip, dipping his thumb beneath the waistband of your shorts. “You’re talented. The bakery,” he slips the elastic of your panties to the side, “was so popular because of you.” You suck in a sharp breath when he slides his thumb down your seam. He’s not surprised you’re already wet. He’s been so careful lately, on edge about pushing you too far when your brain, your heart is still trying to process what happened, but it’s been hard. You’ve been asking. 

And tonight, he’s decided you’ll have it. 

He pulls your hand to his groin over his sweatpants, molding your palm to his cock, heat straining beneath the fabric. You whimper. 

“Gonna be daddy’s good girl and take his cock?” Your eyes lock, and you nod. “Words baby.” 

“Y-yes daddy.” He rolls you onto your back, snaking a hand between your knees and gently pulling them apart after he strips you down. You’re swollen and dripping, toes curling when he circles your clit and presses two fingers inside you. He’s done what he can, but you’re still so tight, and he kicks the last of his boxers off without losing his pace, still between your thighs. Your fingers twist the sheets. Nerves. He reads it so easily, every expression, every single blink and twitch guiding him, telling him everything he needs to know. 

“It’s okay.” He nips at your jaw, covering your body with his for a moment, flattening your hand over his heart. “I’m right here.” 

“I kn-know.” He shifts, his elbow rests above your head, wild need screaming inside his bones, his blood, begging him to claim you, pump you full, fill you up. He flicks your clit, and your nails lightly scratch over his chest as you shive with the stimulation. 

“Does that feel good?” 

“Y-yeah.” The rhythm syncs, your hips and his hand moving together, and at the last second, he pulls away. “Wait!” His chuckle rings nearly sinister, and he taps your clit, the contact just barely there, enough to drive you crazy. 

“Keep your legs open baby, nice and wide.” The head of his cock, already leaking, sits at your opening, and he slowly pushes it in, not even an inch, rocking back and forth. You whimper, but stay anchored to the bed, position steady even though you’re trembling with shaky breaths. “Good girl, stay just like that.” He gives you more, taut skin stretching to take him, muscles tensing and relaxing as he rubs your clit, slows his strokes. “I have you,” he murmurs, taking a second to drop his lips to yours, “I’ve got you sweet girl.” When you calm, he sinks deeper. 

“Oh fuck,” you reach for him, gripping his arms with a strength he didn’t know you had. “I- ah-” 

“Halfway there baby girl, you can take it.” He’s never had an issue with control, but watching his cock disappear inside your body has his balls already tightening, stomach clenching. 

He gives you time to adjust. He’s slow and careful, holding you on the edge of an orgasm as he picks up speed, working himself in, your cries and moans filling the room. Your clit throbs under his touch, and knows you’re desperate. 

“It’s too- too much daddy, I c-can’t.” He kisses you slowly, gently murmuring in your ear, holding you tight, soothing you while still working his way inside your body even though you're clawing at his back and he knows he'll wear your marks tomorrow.

“Shh, I know, I know. Almost there baby.” 

“N-no, I…” He steals your words by finally fully seating himself, swallowed all the way to the root, his hips against yours. Your legs go stiff. “Oh my god-” 

“Fuck.” It’s nearly inaudible, grunted garbage hoarse and scraping his throat as he clamps down for control. He moves one of your legs to get a better look, pushing it back to your chest, throbbing inside you as he savors your groan. He’s shoved up against your cervix, walls strangling him, scorching and wet, everything he dreamed of, but better. Perfect. Like you always are. Your lower lip trembles, and he folds over to kiss you again, the movement allowing him to  push farther as he swallows your whimper. This is where he stays as he starts to roll his hips, painstakingly slow, watching your expression twist in half pain, half pleasure, gasping. 

“Too big, it’s… you’re too big.” His mouth is tender on yours, lulling you calm, controlling your breath until it’s normal and you’re relaxed, legs limp and loose. He experiments with a harder thrust, and your back arches, pussy spasming around him. He groans, presses down on your stomach above your mound. 

“You’re stuffed full of me baby. D’you feel it? Is that daddy’s cock in your belly so deep?” He’s fucking you now, earnestly, pushing and pulling while still rubbing your clit. 

“Ah, ah, y-yeah I f-feel it I feel…” Tears wet your cheeks, shining in the low light of the evening, sunset casting a summers glow through the windows. The sight of them is like a lightning bolt down his spine. 

“My sweet girl,” he keeps you close, holds you, soaks it all in like it’s the last moment he’ll ever have. “Sweet baby girl, taking daddy’s cock so well.” You’re dangerously close to coming, cunt clenching and trying to milk him, and while he’d love to edge you until you break apart, he’s too close himself. He puts more pressure on your clit, rubbing the bud in circles as you shake. “Do you want to come?” 

“Yes! Please, plea-sepleaseplease daddy,” the tears continue and he licks them up, salt slicking his tongue. You babble your plea, half coherent, dangling on the cusp while he’s hanging on by a thread. 

“Go ahead,” he chokes, unbridled and raw instinct rising to the top, pushing its way out, and his hips meet yours harshly. “Come for me sweetheart. Come all over your daddy’s fat cock.” You explode, strangle him, bones going from limp to rigid and back again, screams turned to whimpers as he fucks you through it, too rough, too much, his release right behind you. Your eyes go wide when he floods your pussy with cum, brows knitted, and he smiles against your cheek, soaking it all in. This claim, this knowledge that he’s first, he’s last, he’s only. His forever. 

He indulges in the after. You’re swollen and already sore as he anticipated, emotions boiling over, fresh tears lining your lashes. It’s a lot, he knows, so much to take it, to learn, and he holds you through the rollercoaster, the up and down until you’re calm and ready for your bath, which he just barely manages as you’re falling asleep, head in his hand, unable to hold yourself up. 

“Ow,” you hiss at the cloth between your legs with a playful, exhausted glare. He kisses your forehead. 

“I know baby, I’m sorry. Be still for me.” You sigh, trying to fight the battle of sleep and terribly losing. “It’s okay sweet girl, you can close your eyes. I’ve got you.” He thinks you’re already there, stolen away by dreams when a whisper drifts free from your lips. “I love you.” His heart clenches. 

“I love you too.” 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for saja boys with shy but touch starved gn s/o please?

Jinu

He’s touch starved himself in my opinion.

He’s also a little awkward too and would definitely be cautious as to not push you beyond your boundaries.

He finds your shyness an interesting thing to have, it’s always a sight to behold when he watches you interact with his tiger companion and the bird with the top hat, acting as though you couldn’t be anywhere else then with them.

Yet when it comes to social interactions you reframe from speaking incase you said something that could come across as silly or stupid. It was truly telling to Jinu where your comfortability levels lied in certain situations and who you were with.

So he would always be nearby, ready to take over a conversation if he saw that you were running low of things to say, coming up with something believable for the other person as he pulls you away from a conversation that was obviously not doing you a lot of good. He’ll take you to less crowded places as he himself didn’t like overcrowded places either, preferring more scenic areas where he could clear his mind and hear himself think.

So Jinu takes you to those places when he knows you needed it and would just stand by your side, all the while the bird with the tiny hat would rest itself on your shoulder, cuddling against your neck and closing it’s eyes in content.

Jinu wouldn’t take to physical affection immediately but instead take his time when he saw how you tensed before gradually intertwining your fingers with his, letting out a sigh of relief as you let yourself enjoy the affection for what it was.

from then on Jinu would also allow himself to enjoy enacting physical affection alongside you, or vicariously through you, when he rested his hand upon the small of your back or gingerly caressed the back of your neck in order to get you to relax and breath again.

Jinu find that you were both alike in similar ways but different in others and found solace in that as neither of you had to go against yourselves in order to appease the other. Affection will come and go but each of them being as meaningful as the last even if it was for a couple of seconds.

Also cuddles with the fluffy blue tiger are a must to recovery your battery, Jinu joins in because you both looked adorable, only for you two to be squashed under the big blue fluff as they act completely innocent.

Baby

Isn’t one for outright PDA. So he’s perfect for you really, it’s not important to him as it would to be for others.

He’ll take the lead in most situations, not that he cares whether your shy or not, he’ll step up if it senses as though your having a hard time even if his face is as though he was perpetually nonchalant about it.

He’ll most likely nudge your shoulder, tap the back of your hand three times, or having his thigh close by to yours but not close enough to just, just enough for you to know he was there if you ever need him.

Baby can communicate to you without having to use words, he’ll use notes to do so if you felt as though you couldn’t use your voice, feel like it’s been taken away from you even if you were just about to ask him for help on something.

He can tell that you need something and is very attuned to how you show that, even without words and will get it without hesitation. It almost comes off as though you have some sort of psychic connection with how effortlessly you knew one another without having to even open your mouths.

Your shyness wasn’t a deterrent for him either as he’s not one to talk all the time either, just enough for people to understand his personality, but just little to keep people guessing his next move or guess what’s his favourite colour or favourite kind of spicy food he preferred.

Baby didn’t care if you talked too much or too little, just as long as you were comfortable with him and didn’t feel as though you had to pressure yourself into becoming comfortable for his sake because that was the last thing he wanted for you.

Baby didn’t care if you didn’t want to go out that much, he wasn’t much of an outdoor person himself, only going out when needed or just to take a quick trip to a corner store and grab spicy treats and sweet snacks for you to munch on within the comfort of your apartment.

He’s more of a homebody who will occasionally want to go out now and then, keenly aware of how easily drained you can be afterwards. He’ll always keep an eye on you in the most nonchalant way possible, caring for you in his own way while also letting you do whatever pleases you.

Abby

Is a teasing shit that will tease you for your shyness initially but never takes it too far, he’s not that mean. He knows his limitations before the playful taunts become mean spirited.

He adores your shyness really, especially when he causally flexes his muscles and you -upon getting caught looking at him- would seemingly jolt out of your skin and look away. It feeds his ego a little and he’d intentionally do it even more if it meant seeing such interesting reactions coming from you.

He can easily stand in front of you if you didn’t want to be seen by others, he’s tall enough and well built enough to do so with ease, he’ll do it if it gives you some peace of mind. Your comfort comes first to Abby.

Will ask if you wanna touch his abs and smiling when you seemingly were at a loss for words, brain working too hard to decipher what he said and if it’s genuine or a joke.

His PDA is about average. He’ll hold your hand, thumb caressing your wrist, or his arm is thrown over your shoulder where he could feel you stiffen before melting under his embrace, almost hiding yourself away within his side while doing so.

That’s when he knows your touch starved and will start doing more to make you more use to his touches and affection.

Abby didn’t care if it took you longer to be comfortable in making phone calls to places or getting use to him putting his hand in your back pocket, as long as he got to do so and get to see how you’d react to what he does was more then enough for him. Your reactions are the highlight for him as he couldn’t help but become infectious with the happiness you felt for getting through placing your order without fucking up.

Abby is your hype man and your biggest teaser at the same time.

He’ll be happy for you/with you and will bring you into his arms to savour the sweet moment as he utters how proud of you he is, only for him to then in the same breath tease you for brushing against his abs, making you smack his bicep weakly as he laughs. Abby can truly be a menace but also be the biggest supporter when it came to you and doing things you initially felt under qualified to do.

Mystery

Your guard dog in more ways then one.

He’s almost got a sixth sense for when you’re comfortable and uncomfortable, like a bloodhound he could smell it from a mile away and immediately he’s more or less barking at whatever is making you uncomfortable.

Not one for words but his actions make up for it. You know the silent type goes strong in him but that doesn’t mean you’ve never heard him talk at all, his I’d like to believe voice is soft, grounding and steady in a way where if he says things were going to be okay, you’d believe him wholeheartedly.

If you want something, just point it out to him and he’ll get you it if you have social anxiety or just can’t bring yourself to speak to the person behind the till.

He’s more then willing to do anything on your behalf or be a grounding presence when you do it yourself, gently brushing his hand against your own in a silent gesture that he was here, that you shouldn’t feel stupid or anything when he was right there to offer moral support.

Affection wise he’s more accustomed to putting his head on your lap or resting his head against your own as his arms are anchored to your waist, almost as though he’s bringing you into an impromptu cuddle session.

The first time he did so, you were tense and didn’t know what to do, stay still as you could while he rested his head in your lap as you looked about awkwardly before feeling his hand grab yours and place it atop of his head in a silent demand for you to run your fingers through his hair.

It was awkward at first as you didn’t want to hurt him by catching some stubborn knots within his hair, but soon enough you were running your fingers through his hair like it’s nothing as though it was second nature.

Everything took time and Mystery was more then willing to keep constantly resting his head on your lap on the odd occasion so that you’d get use to him doing so, get use to him pulling your hand on his head so that his need for attention and affection didn’t come out of nowhere and left you feeling uncomfortable.

Romance

Loves, loves, loves PDA.

Finds your shyness endearing but understands that it can be somewhat debilitating at times when it comes to doing certain things that come more natural to people more confident than you.

He would try to ease you into it by doing small gestures, such as intertwining pinkies or just tracing his fingers across your palm so that you would be familiar to his touch when he does more grander expressions of affection.

He’s got patience in droves and will reassure you that your shyness is one of the many things he loves about you, even if you think that your shyness was holding him back or believe it to be a downside to you.

He’s never holding it against you at all, he embraces it and is more than willing to go at your own pace should it be more comfortable for you.

The last thing he wanted was for you to feel as though you had to be thrusted out of your comfort zone to keep someone when it’s doing more harm then good, that you needed to ignore your own feelings in order to accommodate the other person’s feelings.

That wasn’t love in his eyes and it never will be.

Romance is convinced that while you were both different, you both compliment each other in a way that he’s come to adore.

He’s more sociable and outgoing, whereas you were more reserved and didn’t feel at all comfortable with overbearing people or overcrowded spaces filled with loud and rambunctious characters. Yet you both worked wonders together and that’s all Romance could ask for, someone who complimented him while also being uniquely themselves.