#like not tired of them but i just don’t want to need to do stuff for them all the time and living in a flithy home and i don’t even have a

[strnilolover]

NNN - chris sturniolo - long distances

You and Chris had been together for a little over a year, content with one another and the company each of you had to bring.

Before hand — you were good friends, best friends to be exact. Not with just him, but with his brothers too, and it was nice to know nothing really changed after putting a label on the two of you.

Chris and his brothers were already in their filming career when you had gotten together — making videos and posting them twice a week for their fan base that was already growing so large within a short amount of time.

Though, one day, while cuddled up with chris on your couch at your home — he broke the news to you.

He was moving to LA with Matt and Nick. Having already made enough money to afford a nice little place there. It was shocking to hear, and at first you were upset — upset with the fact you couldn’t see him everyday and you wouldn’t be around him when you needed him or wanted him.

But, the upset had been replaced with excitement over time. Thinking of all the possibilities for Chris and how amazing it was that he was able to do this with his brothers. And of all the stories you would be able to hear about his new life in a busy and bustling city.

When the day had finally come for him to move — it was spent with tears and hugs and promises to one another that everything would be okay.

And for the most part it was, you called every night — texted each other too many times through out the day and stayed connected. But, at some point things started to change. Chris grew more busy with work and with his clothing line he was starting, and the absence made you feel empty. Like he wasn’t even really there.

There were less calls, more messages being left on read or delivered — but Chris at least would tell you when he was busy and couldn’t talk, which you appreciated.

Eventually, everything began to weigh down on you. And you needed to tell him — needed to let him know how you were feeling. That you were having doubts.

-

Your room was quiet except for the faint hum of your laptop. Chris’ face filled the screen, his familiar features bathed in the soft light of his LA room. He looked tired, his curls messier than usual and his celtics hoodie hanging loosely on his frame. You tried to ignore the hollow ache in your chest as you smiled at him.

“How was your day?” you asked, forcing a casual tone as your eyes looked around your screen, taking in the view you’ve seen hundreds of times already.

Chris shrugged, leaning back against his chair. “Same as usual. Filmed with Nick and Matt, ran some errands. We tried this new sushi place for dinner. It was good, but, uh… not as good as Boston sushi.”

You let out a soft laugh, even though it stung a little. “Boston sushi is definitely better. How’s the apartment coming along?” you asked — a question that would slip here and there.

Chris shrugged slightly. “Fine, I guess. Still trying to figure out where to put everything. Matt thinks we need more stuff on the walls, but Nick keeps saying we don’t. It’s a whole thing.” He gave a faint smile, his voice lacking its usual warmth. “What about you? How was work?”

“Busy,” you said simply, picking at the edge of your blanket. “Came home, made dinner… I made too much again. I keep forgetting I’m just cooking for one now.” you admitted. Being so used to his presence all the time, you often made dinner for two people — it was still a hard adjustment.

Chris’ smile faltered, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

You shook your head quickly, brushing it off. “It’s not your fault. I just need to get used to it still — even if it’s been a little.”

The conversation then faded into silence, and for a moment, all you could hear was the faint rustle of Chris adjusting his laptop. He looked away, his jaw tense, and you felt the words building in your chest — words you’d been too scared to say for weeks right on the tip of your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Chris,” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can we… uhm - can we talk about us?” the words slipping past your lips felt like a burn on your own tongue.

His gaze snapped back to you, his expression guarded. “What about us?”

You hesitated, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I just… I feel like things have been different lately. At first, we were doing so well — texting all the time, FaceTiming every night. But now… I don’t know. It feels like we’re drifting apart.”

Chris’s brows furrowed at your words, his shoulders visibly tensing. “I’ve noticed it too,” he admitted after a pause. “I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

You blinked, surprised by his honesty. “You didn’t think I’d feel the same?”

“I don’t know,” he said, running a hand through his curls. “I didn’t want to say anything and make you think I was doubting us or something. And I’m not. I love you. But this…” He gestured vaguely, his hand moving between him and the screen. “This is hard. Harder than I thought it’d be.”

The crack in his voice made your heart ache, but you nodded, tears stinging the corner of your eyes. “It is hard. I miss you so much, Chris. Some nights, it’s all I can think about — how empty this place feels without you here. And then I start wondering… what if we can’t do this? What if it’s too much?”

Chris’s eyes widened slightly, his panic evident. “Wait, are you saying you want to—”

“No!” you interrupted quickly, shaking your head. “No — Chris, that’s not what I mean. I just… I don’t know how to fix this. And I hate feeling like we’re not as close as we used to be.”

Chris let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping. “I feel the same way,” he said quietly. “I hate that I can’t just drive over and see you when you’ve had a bad day. I hate that I can’t be there to hold you. And honestly… sometimes, I feel like I’m letting you down.”

“You’re not,” you said firmly, leaning closer to the screen. “Chris, you’re doing the best you can. We both are. But we need to be honest with each other if we’re going to make this work.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. “You’re right. I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to make things worse, but… I guess that’s only made things harder. I’ve missed you so much, and it’s been killing me not to tell you how much I’ve been struggling with this.”

Tears now spilled down your cheeks, and you wiped them away quickly with your sleeve. “I’ve been struggling too. And I was scared to tell you because… what if it made you think I didn’t believe in us anymore? I do, Chris. I love you so much. I just… I didn’t know how to deal with all of this on my own.”

His expression softened, and he leaned closer to the camera, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to deal with it alone, okay? We’re in this together. And if that means being brutally honest about how much this sucks sometimes, then that’s what we’ll do.”

You laughed softly through your tears, nodding. “Deal. And… maybe we can try to plan our visits better. I need to see you, Chris. I think that’ll help a lot.” you whispered, feeling yourself ease up a little at the thought of him here — with you.

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Funny you should say that… I’ve been looking at flights to Boston. I was going to surprise you, but… maybe we need this sooner rather than later. I’ll come next month. No excuses.”

“Really?” you asked, your heart swelling with hope.

“Really,” he said, his smile growing. “I need to hold you again. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

A weight lifted from your chest, and you smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks. “I’ll hold you to that,” you teased, your voice lighter.

Chris chuckled, the sound warming your heart. “I love you. And no matter how hard this gets, I’m not giving up on us. Ever.”

“I love you too,” you said softly. “And I promise… I’ll do everything I can to make this work too.”

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a start. The rest of the night felt lighter — the ache in your chest still present but less. You both were more cheerful — joking around about random things and teasing him about how his hair was too messy — along with his room.

You smiled at your screen, watching as Chris did the same. His hand coming up to his lips and blowing you a kiss through the screen — and you blushed.

You’re just hoping that whatever was said tonight…was going to stick.

© strnilolover

[getmeoutofhell]

Art the clown x reader headcanons!!

a/n: i said i was gonna do these and i did. enjoy!! ;) forgot to mention that to pretend art won’t kill you.

warnings: this does contain smut headcanons as well! with some T3 spoilers ahead!!

SFW

first and foremost, art the clown is a cuddle monster. you can’t convince me otherwise. he loves coming home after a hard and tiring day to cuddle up next to you. (after you make him wash his ass.)

“art, what the hell are you doing?” you say that at least 5 times a day when he randomly decides so come and lick on your skin. more specifically, behind your ear. his favorite spot. you can’t count how many time you’ve side eyed him. 😂

once you met vicky, you started to become a little jealous about how much time they would spend together. leaving you to wonder if he’s cheating on you with her. but soon enough, he pushes those negative thoughts to the side.

he does ask you to marry him…eventually. is it a normal proposal?? fuck no. nothing is normal about him. you just wake up one day, and poof! there’s one of your work employees that you hate decapitated, with a letter saying ‘will you marry me? till death do us part? i love you, art. ;)’ you really had no choice but to say yes did you? so you did.

after he killed santa in T3 he immediately went to where you were to show you his new look. “wow baby, you look so sexy!” he loves when you compliment his attire. it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. 🥰

he’s a jealous man for real. he hates your friends and family. don’t let him meet them.

he rolls his eyes at you A LOT. so be ready to deal with his sass all damn day. sometimes when he’s being a bitch it pisses you off. “art stop. now.” when you get rough with him he starts to pout and puts on his puppy face. (kinda like the face he did after he took a shot at the bar.)

his serious face a shown way more after the events in T3. when’s he’s pissed off at you, the face comes out to let you know he’s not playing no games. do you stop bitching at him? no. you know he won’t kill you. so you take that as a chance to point out his bullshit when needed.

NFSW

now…let’s get into the freaky stuff. 😈👏🏾

he’s a hard dom. even when you’re on top, he’s a dom. it’s his way or no way even in the bedroom. you can try your absolute hardest to get him to sub but it won’t work. maybe, just maybe, he’ll sub.

good luck asking him to let you cum, that’s rare. very rare. he’ll look at you with the most shit eating grin before going in and out of you faster.

BACKSHOTS!! hard ones at that. in the santa outfit, juts imagine that…how his balls slap against you. his fingers will be all over your body. he acts like they’re glued on you in fact. he won’t take them off of your body until his finished.

speaking of finished, he holds himself back to make you suffer more. he won’t come until a little after you cum, making you become overstimulated quickly. he can’t help but laugh at your pathetic ways.

he LOVES blowjobs. especially after a hard day. he gets lazy, and wants you to do all the work. as always 🙄

he may try to fuck you in the ass (if you’re a girl.) if you’re down, that’s good!! if you’re not, that’s good too!! for a male reader he will definitely like fucking you in the ass. he likes how warm and stretchy it can get, and will stretch it to it’s limits even past that point if you let him.

for my last headcanon in this section, he will cum all over your back and anywhere he finds necessary. hope you like it! :)

[whosthere54]

So I want to talk about Icarus’s death again cause. Yeah I watched the finale again.

I’m sure I talked about it before but. Cause I’m writing stuff with the mindset they hold the episodes leading up to and then their death I’m just. Thinking about it. Enjoy incoherent rambling I’m tired.

So just. One. Icarus knew they were going to die. The wound was something they knew couldn’t be fixed. They knew since Momboo, maybe even before. There’s just that sense throughout the final episodes is just. They know. And they knew they weren’t done yet, and they knew they might not make it out to see the end of it alive.

Then they did, they saw the end. They killed Fable.

And there’s two ways I can take that. One. Fable is dead and they have no more direction. It’s their fault. They just killed their dad. The one person who was there through that- who *stayed*. They have no one telling them (straightforward or otherwise) what they should be doing anymore- what is considered to be the right thing for them to do. They have no guidance. Their lost- and their alone again, because of course they are. Icarus was always meant to die alone.

Two. Fable is dead! There’s nobody trying to get them to do something in a way that they want it done. Their not “being controlled” anymore. They can do what they want to- to fix it. Their death is them taking that control back. Their going to die anyways, right? Quixis and the wack had been effecting their life for so long- controlling what they do. Making them feel like they need to isolate so they don’t hurt anyone, making them have no sense of stability in items and even pets because hey they all change! Nothing stays the same!

They get to choose, now. They get to choose. If the wack is killing them, why make it that? They choose to fall. They know they’re not going to survive. There’s in element of almost comfort in that. It’s their choice. Not Fable’s, not something they gave to do because of the wack harming others. (It’s harming them. And maybe that’s for the better, isn’t it?)

They fall. And they get to say it wasn’t Quixis or the wack that killed them. It was them. They did it. Icarus dies at sunset, able to stare out into the water before they go. When they fall, they can see the stars- and that’s more of the sky than the story of Icarus ever got to see before his death.

They get to fall. And it feels close enough to flight that they can’t tell the difference. They can spread their arms wide, and *laugh*. They got to see Rae and Centross before their death. They got to choose that.

Icarus dies at sunset.

And it’s their choice this time.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

S2 Entry 1: Want More?

Photo credit: Pinterest

Summary: Carmy needs to make his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) feel good after she has a grueling day at work. (1043 Words) SMUT.

Warnings: Swearing, comfort, fem reader/lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns, p in v sex, finger sucking, dword use, Soft Dom!Carmy.

Notes: Thank you for reading and sharing! This is a work in CB Journals Season 2 and will be tagged with #cb journals s2.

Sideblog for commentary and social stuff: @m-z-shoroi

Prompt: Snowstorm

I remember a conversation happening at Noma that went a little something like this: what is your favorite time and place to have sex?

I, of course, didn’t participate, being a socially terrified barely-adult who had no experiences (yet) and also too focused on my prep to hold a conversation—though the being focused part held more weight in my decision not to speak up because, and I hope I’ve established this, my connection to food is catastrophic. Talking divides attention. Humans are not built to multi-task; at best, we can flip back and forth between a few tasks in rapid succession, but if you wanted to get good at something—and I mean really good at something; knock people on their ass, smoke those motherfuckers for daring to challenge you—you need to cut out all the noise, bury all the bullshit, and put yourself to work.

So, yeah, I didn’t participate. I don’t even remember what the rest of the conversation was, I’ll be honest, because I tuned it out the moment I heard the question. But it’s been haunting me as of late. Not because I wanted to know what all the other chefs were talking about, but because I might have accidentally found the answer for myself.

Late November, about 10 pm or something. Wind howling against the windows, ice pelting the glass, no car horns, no trains, no people yapping or yelling outside, no noisy neighbors. This soft, gentle quiet that permeated the bone-crushing cold that was my apartment bedroom minus one radiator.

Because landlords are fucking demons.

The only other sounds are of us, of her moans, these saccharine, high-pitched, breathy noises that tumble from her mouth in a dulcet melody, the creaking of the bed, of the ragged breaths I’m dragging past my throat. Her hands are still cold as they rest limp against my abdomen but are warmer than they were when she first tangled them in my hair. She’s helpless, powerless, vulnerable; has forfeited her entire being to me. I’m cold, I’m tired, I’m mentally drained; do what you want to me, Carmy.

Do what I want? What I want is for you to feel like you’re in heaven, my love. I want to hear you whine in my ear about how good it feels, how full you are, how you don’t want me to stop. I want you to arch your back just. Like. That. And flutter around me with another mind-numbing orgasm, babble my name like it’s a prayer.

“Is that good, pretty girl?” I murmured in her ear. “Want more?”

I already knew the answer.

Didn’t mean hearing it wasn’t spine-tingling.

“Please, Carmy.” She weakly hiked her leg higher up my side.

“Please, what, princess?”

Did I understand what she meant? Yes. Even without her saying it, her leg tightening around me, the shadow of her larynx as she swallowed and fought for words, it told me everything I needed to know. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy making a mess of her. I love listening to her stumble over and give up on her words because she feels too good to corral them into a coherent sentence. Makes me feel powerful. In control. Fuck, I needed to feel like I was in control because everything else in my life was spiraling out of control.

“M-more… Harder…”

I hooked my hand under her knee and brought it up, fucking her even deeper. She arched her spine, threw her head back, swore.

“Like that?”

“Yes! Yes, fuck, yes, just like that… Don’t stop…”

 She dragged her fingernails up my torso, dug them into my chest. She was so tight, so hot, so slick; I was fucking delirious. The only thing more important to me than my high was hers. I needed to hear her fall apart again. Come on, princess, show me how pretty you are when you come apart.

“Gimme another one, huh, pretty girl?”

Her coherence went two orgasms ago. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck… yes, sir… fuck, that’s so good… Please… please…” She didn’t even know what she was begging for at that point. It was just babbling. Her beautiful, complex, multi-faceted mind, forever going 7 directions at once, synthesizing information from everything and everyone, solving life’s most complex problems—off. Quiet. Empty Like the city outside, buried under 12 inches of snow. And the night was still young.

“Daddy, please…”

Daddy?

“Please, what, princess?”

She called me daddy?

“W-wanna cum…”

Fuck, I could get used to being called that.

I brought my hand down between us and rubbed her clit. She arched her back and whined my name. That’s it, pretty girl. That’s really fucking good, isn’t it? That’s exactly what my baby girl needed after such a rough day at work, huh? Needed Daddy’s dick filling you up and making you forget everything you were so stressed about.

She clamped a hand around my wrist, the one that was holding her leg, and dragged it up so she could close her lips around my thumb. She sucked, pressing her tongue against the pad, and despite my dulled sensations, it was fucking disastrous how fucking good that felt. It was a stunning sight—her eyes closed, cheeks reddened, sweaty hair sticking to her forehead, her plush lips around my thumb because she just needed a sensation in her mouth.

I could burn it into my memory if it wasn’t for how fucking close to coming apart I was. I didn’t have words. The heat in the pit of my stomach roared into an inferno, sent a wave of blistering warmth up my abdomen and my chest. Fuck, she was going to ruin me by being like this, and I wanted every bit of it. Please, keep being so needy. Please, call me Daddy again, beg me for more, whine my name, lose your words, suck on my thumb because all other sensibilities have escaped. You know I am for you; I want you to feel so good that you can’t think anymore. I need you to feel so good that you can barely breathe.

She pried her eyes open to meet mine.

“Go ahead, pretty girl,” I whispered.

Late evening. Middle of a snowstorm. That’s my answer.

Tags: @jess248 @catharticconsolation @persymons @morgthemagpie @glitch0o0 @nox-is-thename @forgechildofheph @leminjelly @fridavacado @lumoslemon @cyarskj1899 @carmenberzattosgf

[firstprincehornyramblings]

I'm posting this Sentences Sunday at 3am, because why the hell not, it's Sunday. This one is going to have 3 snippets, all very nsfw, all very under the cut, but I'm doing to try and keep them shorter, for mysterious reasons. *wiggles fingers*

- kissingchambers (🤭) pwp 💊

He couldn’t look down at Elliot, he managed a glance before giving up and looking back at the ceiling. Those hungry eyes and wide pupils narrowed and nearly predatory- that look was lethal. It would make impossibly quick work of Marco if he allowed himself to watch. His hand tugged harder at the hair between his fingers, legs spreading wider, to what end he had no idea. But it was rewarded with one of Elliot’s hand sliding along his inner thigh, squeezing at soft skin. “I- uh, Ellie…” Marco swallowed hard, gasping for air between moans as he spoke. “Can you uh-” With a hum, Elliot lifted his head, still sucking hard as his mouth popped free. “Ellie, that’s cute, what, are you about to cum?” he chuckled, somehow still sounding sarcastic. All Marco could really do was nod.

--------------------------------------------------------------------- doctor alex and patient henry 🩺

“Oh, I didn’t make you dinner,” Henry sneered, “You can do that on your own.” “Wh-” “You need to get tested,” he didn’t even allow his boyfriend to respond to the initial jab. “You fucking gave me chlamydia,” he hissed, already standing up and emptying his plate, “Don’t apologize, don’t make a fucking excuse, be an adult, take care of it. And for christ’s fucking sake,” he snapped, tossing his plate into the sink nearly hard enough to break it, “Use a Johnny next time, will you?” “Baby, wait,” Charlie pleaded, following behind Henry who was already in the process of storming toward the bedroom. “Do not,” the blond whipped around with lightning speed, a finger shoved only centimeters from his boyfriend’s nose, “Do not fucking ‘baby’ me, right now.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------- dystopian prince's consort alex 👑

All at once, Alex got his wish, Henry’s hips jerking forward as he spilled onto the bed. Streak after streak of white painted the linens, loud husky whines and moans coming from deep in the blond’s chest. That tightness squeezing Alex’s cock like a vice grip, it was an incredible feat that he didn’t finish on the spot himself; he’d thank whichever god did that for him later. His own hips finally slowed to a moderate pace, now just rolling into deep, slow slamming motions into the other man. His hand worked the last few drops from Henry’s tip, the opposite hand leaving the blond’s throat to lovingly cradle a warm cheek instead. His thumb brushed over Henry’s lips in a way that was far too affectionate for what they’d just done, but he couldn’t help it, Alex was a romantic at heart. “Where do you want me to cum, baby?” “On my face, please,” with that answer, the blond leaned forward, falling into the mattress with no regard for the mess. He rolled over onto his back after a moment, still breathing hard as he looked up at Alex. There was a smile on those plush lips now, a quiet blissed out laugh, and half-lidded cock drunk eyes. Henry was more beautiful that way, Alex thought.

—

🏷️(no pressure tags darlings)

@taste-thewaste @henrysfox @mikibwrites @eusuntgratie

@softboynick @catdadacd @sheepywritesfics @henryspearl

@basil-bird @caressthosecheekbones @henfox @anti-homophobia-cheese

@redlipstickandglitter @onthewaytosomewhere

@thesleepyskipper @tailsbeth-writes @thighzp @lfg1986-2

+ literally anyone else I'm tired and forgot. (i say as if im not always sleepy) or anyone who sees this and wants to tag me, I love reading yall's stuff. <3

[bibuckaroo]

absolutely hilarious to me that that side of the fandom think the buddie side is the delusional one because of the tim interview when the man himself CLEARLY stated that he had NEVER seen the fandom behaving this badly in all of his years working in the business and the only difference from all the other years to this one is the bt fandom, like genuinely lol.

he also stated about people coming to talk to him and using what he said when there are prints out there of their fandom doing this, like it’s not all of them obviously, just like there are parts of the buddie fandom who can be disrespectful too, but as someone who recently joined the fandom and saw the comings and goings through the years, i can safely say when a fandom is being too much on the disrespectful side and i saw that behavior way more on that side, honestly.

[transmechanicus]

I’m allowed one (1) vent of the colossal amounts of pressure my body and mind are under per month and i usually do my best to bury it in the early hours of the morning, so now that i’ve provided this valuable and important context:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[ahalliance]

how do i turn qantoine’s spontaneous marriage proposal to qetoiles into evidence of his early-days fear of qfrench drifing away and keeping secrets from one another

[rickety-house]

guiiwgghauaiauagguaiaghjjghjjjhhhh

this didn’t fit in the hashtags but donr rb or comment I’m just screaming to myself atm I’ll probably delete this shit tomorrow goodnigjt fuck everything live vs kill

[cross-d-a]

I don’t get them too often anymore but I got one of those “hope this gets updated soon” comments in my inbox which like/ I get it. I want my fav fics too update too. But it was especially annoying and depressing bc I’m already frustrated with myself for not writing much/not updating any of my fic this weekend after I Finally got back into a better writing habit. And it was just. Not a pleasant weekend all around for mental health or personal accomplishments. So like. Yeah. Idk

[barley-st-band]

hey does anyone know how we’re supposed to survive it all. asking for a friend

[forgotten-daydreamer]

Took twice the max dose of melatonin before the final revision for tomorrow’s exam, I’m shitting my pants and I genuinely don’t know anything as thoroughly as I should but if I sleep less than 4 hrs before it I just know I’m gonna do even worse somehow

[livvyofthelake]

crazy things happening in redacted land. horrific era remember i can’t speak about it directly i can only make vague hints and sort of make little jokes and jests. i don’t know how i’ll ever get my fyp back to normal when all this is over for me wow. oh well that’s a problem for another day. anyway. crazyyyy things happening in redacted land!!!

[emilygaming]

I have so many things to do tomorrow and I’m already exhausted and it’s only the night before.

[babsaros]

i figured this week was gonna cause a meltdown, i just hoped i’d make it til friday :/

[exopelagic]

i can’t believe i managed to get fucking mono and didn’t even get it by doing anything fun