#my wrists feel very very weak. and weird

[marsbotz]

[nomaishuttle]

ohhh fml i was like maybe i cn stya up a bit late after all its weekend tomorrow. no it fucking isnt today was thursday i have work tmrw everything is evil always

[gaytobymeres]

ough i was pruning most of the day with my secateurs and now my hand and wrist are so sore :(

[cloudshuffle]

cuteness aggression. yan!penacony

Sunday

"This feels... dumb. I'm not a Halovian."

Sunday looks up from last-minute paperwork, pausing. Something unfamiliar stirs in his chest. He tugs on his gloves.

"It's not dumb," he replies smoothly. "You look... wonderful."

A small pair of wings sits just behind your ears, like his own. They're not real, of course, but they function just fine - letting everyone know who you belonged to.

He rises from his seat, moving toward you. You step back until your back hits the door, shrinking away from his hand.

But Sunday simply tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, rubbing a thumb gently over the inside of your wrist with his other hand. He leans into you slightly, radiating heat like a small star, blowing sweet breath across your face.

"Adorable..." he mutters, half to himself.

"Sunday," you say, voice weak, though you aren't sure what you need to tell him. You feel very much like a small thing being cornered by a predator, his eyes dark, pupils blown.

Then he pinches your cheek, so swiftly and out of character for him you blink.

Before you can protest, he massages your face lightly with both hands.

This must be what street cats feel whenever you accost them with your affection.

He releases you just as suddenly, patting you on the head as he passes. "Prepare yourself. The guests will be arriving anytime soon."

Well, you suppose there's a first time for everything.

Aventurine

"Good evening, my sickly angel."

You scowl at him from under blankets, a cold compress on your head. "You're not funny."

"On the contrary." He lifts your medicine. "I think I am very funny."

You complain audibly, but that's about as much as you can do with your energy drained by the fever. Aventurine feeds you as patiently as a mother with a small child, though perhaps with twice as much condescension.

"Stop staring," you grumble. "It's weird."

The bed sinks as Aventurine leans over, gathering you up in his arms. "You're like a kitten when you're sick. All angry and no claws."

You hiss when he squeezes you, only belatedly realising that you're proving his point. "Kittens have very sharp claws, excuse me."

"A declawed kitten, then." He rubs his cheek onto the top of your head. "You smell different, too."

"That's weird!"

[plmp0]

Bad Game

Summary: You've just missed how rough Heeseung used to fuck you so you decided to push his buttons, but he noticed what you are trying to do and gave you exactly what you wanted.

Warnings: pwp (no plot really), mean!dom!Heeseung, begging, dirty talk, degrading, hair pulling, oral (f r), unprotected sex, cream!pie, i think that's all

A.N: This was a very quicky i wrote at 4 AM, sorry if there is any typos/ weird spacing, also please note that english is not my first language. Enjoy ^^

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"didn't know you were that cock dumb u know? always denying being horny in front of me but all the time you are fantasizing about my dick huh?" Heeseung stuffed two of his fingers inside ur mouth making you choke on them your hips trying to grind on his knee that is positioned between ur legs and he chuckled at ur miserable attempt

"What a pervert, a naughty slut" he whispered in ur ears as he grabbed ur hair and pulled, you arched your back moaning, "And that's okay, you know why? Because i'm the only one who can take care of you like this." he removed his fingers from ur lips groping ur breats making you whimper wanting him to touch you more.

"Only I can fuck u till u can't remember your name." he grunted one of his hands wrapping around your neck choking you lightly but u couldn't help it but grip his wrist and he just cooed at how weak you are.

Heeseung made sure u'd regret messing up with him, trying to make him jealous? really?Knowing how he can't handle seeing others trying to make a move on you in front of him.

"How low of you, horny girl trying to piss me off." He chuckled "You don't know who you're messing up with, sweetheart." He leaned towards you, "I am a man of few words. If you mess up, then i'll fuck u out of your mind."

He kissed you hard and pushed you down the bed, making you lay on your back. He kissed down from ur neck, collarbones, to the valley between ur breasts and you arched your back when he took ur nipple into his mouth, sucking on it harshly.

"So cute" He licked over ur nipples, "So beautiful and all mine." He kept kissing down, reaching your belly making your mind go numb from how different he sounds everytime "My pretty princess" He mumbled spreading your legs apart and putting them over his shoulder, giving a kiss to each thigh. "U could of just said that you wanted me to fuck you dumb" He gave a smirk and dived in between your legs, eating you out.

"Fuuuck" You moaned when he started moving his tongue around ur clit skillfuly hid hold tight on your thighs moving his head left and right and it was just too much for you, pulling on his hair signaling him to slow down but that just made him moan keeping the same pace.

He continued working on you his nose rubbing against your clit as he sucked on it harshly and you felt a knot forming on your stomach moaning his name non stop

Heeseung felt so lost in the taste of you his dick twitching all the time, he took his right hand, bringing his middle and index finger to ur entrance and you rutted your hips trying to feel him inside you and that just earned you a tsk from him and a slap in ur right thigh "Patience, i get that you're desperate to be fucked but there is no way i'm gonna let what you did slip without punishing you" he voiced, still sucking on ur clit and teasing your entrance with his fingers.

"Pleasee, i'll do anything just fuc-" Your pleads got interrupted by him shoving two fingers inside you and curling them to reach the spongy spot that always made you see stars, "Fuck yes right theree" You arched your back and closed your eyes as the knot was becoming tighter, Heeseung could tell that you were close so he started moving his fingers at a faster pace, making you scream and cum all over his face and he didn't even give you a moment to rest fingers working faster than before making you cry and try to get away from him feeling so sensitive, "No no no" you whined, "too much" You cried

"No?" He stopped and grabbed your chin "isn't that what you wanted, huh? What's wrong now?" he mocked curling his fingers inside you his other hand locking you down on the bed and you could feel yourself close again feeling so weak against him eyes rolling back as you were about to come again and just when you were about to Heeseung stopped moving pulling his fingers out leaving your body shaking as a whine left your lips

"Owww" he cooed looking at ur undone state eyes red and teary lips red from biting on them, seeing you in that state just made his dick twitch but as much as he wanted to fuck you now he couldn't forget what you did earlier his blood boiling even tho he knows it was a stupid plan of yours but that doesn't change the fact that Jay held your hand it doesn't change the fact that his filthy hands wrapped around our tiny waist, and Heeseung couldn't let go of that sight his eyes darkening more making ur skin shiver as he looked you down

"Turn around and get on your knees" he commanded, his voice dark. You followed his command and did as told, "I'm not gonna stop till i feel that you are really sorry for what you did today and don't even try to cum without my permission baby" You could feel his dominance taking over you making you more excited and you couldn't wait for him to wreck you.

He slapped your ass massaging the skin afterwards and then started leaving marks on your back, you felt the tip of his cock rubbing on your entrance, the anticipation was making you go crazy but you ended up disappointed when Heeseung kept grinding his cock on your folds for the next couple of minutes despite your begging he didn't enter you and when you tried to reach out and rub urself against his cock he just slapped your hand away.

He took your chin and turned your face to the side so he could look at you as he started kissing you, his tongue finding its way inside ur mouth. He moved his hands from your waist and cupped your boobs, massaging them, pinching and pulling on your nipples making you whimper and he didn't miss the way your hips twitched burrying himself inside you without a warning stretching you open,and puting an end to your suffering, he didn't wait for you to adjust to his size pounding on you hitting your g spot immediately and you couldn't hold your voice in and moaned loudly, Heeseung didn't stop there he grabbed your neck and pushed your head down and started moving at an even faster pace the sound of skin slapping and moans filled the room, he let go of your neck and you felt his grip on your hips getting tighter as he kept going and going and you felt the knot in your stomach tighten, your walls fluttering around his dick, "Don't cum until i say so." He warned voice stern as ever and you couldn't do anything but nod his hand steadying your head against the mattress, bed frame banging against the wall at the force of his thrusts, you felt yourself coming closer and closer and he knew it, his groans going straight to your core making you clench on him and he threw his head back cursing at your tightness his hand slapping your ass and the sting brought you back from the edge Heeseungs hand reached to your hair pulling on it and making you arch your back, you couldn't keep your eyes open as they rolled back "Look at you now, can't even speak because of my dick" he grunted and you didn't even have the strength to moan, his grip on your hair getting tighter "What a good little cockslut" he chuckled seeing how his words affected you "But looks like you forgot that you are mine" he thrusted this time hard and deep making you moan and clench around him "Who are you?" You could hear the anger in his voice "Tell me" he griped your jaw cock still deep inside of you waiting for your answer,

"I'm- Yours- Ahh" you choked on your moans making him smirk as he pulled his cock all the way out and then slammed back in making you arch your back

"Again" He repeated and you felt your orgasm approaching again "Heeseung-" You were about to cum but he slapped your ass

"Who do you belong to" Heeseung growled and the grip he had on ur hair and hips tightened "Who's dick are you on?" he thrusted a couple of times before stopping again, "Yours! It's only yours, please let me cum!" you begged trying to fuck yourself on his dick but his hands were holding you still and it was just too much, he chuckled "You should've known better than to be a brat to me baby"

He started moving again slamming his cock inside you hitting the deepest parts of you, making you a moaning mess and after a couple of minutes of begging he finally gave you permission feeling close as well, "You can cum baby, show me how much you love my cock" he whispered in ur ears and it was enough to make u come and tighten around his dick, making him cum right after you

"Fuck" he cursed as he rode his high and then pulled out of you, and he couldn't help but groan at the sight of his cum dripping out of you taking his fingers to fuck his cum back inside of you and then licking it off his fingers, the view made you whine

"I hope that what you did today won't repeat again, understood?" He asked as he helped you lay on your back and you were too tired to even talk so you just nodded whispering a small "sorry" and he laughed a bit "You did so well baby, such a good girl" he praised caressing your cheek and you couldn't help but lean in and close your eyes at the sensation of his hands, he smiled at your action and leaned down to give a kiss to your forehead. And you don't know if this is gonna really be the last time your gonna push his buttons loving the way he fucked you earlier but hey he doesn't need to know now!

Thank you for reading a feedback would be so much appreciated ^^

[fuckmymunson]

eddie who has a reputation to uphold, the weird and scary freak who wears chains and big metal rings and always goes on tangents about his hatred for the popular kids, not a sliver of fear or weakness in his eyes. eddie who at the same time never leaves his house without the light yellow scrunchy with daisies on it that you gave him, always on his wrist or wrapped in his hair.

eddie who’s sweet n soft on you in a way he never is with anyone else 🥹

💌 a/n: Oh god, this, this, this, this. Please, I don’t ask for much. I’m so happy to get back to writing! Hope you like it!

🪷 Check my recent poll ¡! 📌

“I lost it” His voice sounded almost defeated, and quite inopportune.

“Eddie!” You jolted in your place, closing the light green locker door. Behind it, there he was, the big, scary, mean freak of Hawkins High. Covered from head to toe in chains, leather, ripped jeans, black, black, all black. With dark, unruly hair and a chunky rings.

But also, with puppy eyes, and a quivering lip.

“You scared the shit out of me, Eds” The frown on your pretty face made his heart jump inside his chest. You were an angel, a sight for sore eyes.

“I lost it” He repeated.

“You lost what?”

“I’m sorry” Eddie looked down, apparently now his Reeboks were the most interesting thing.

“Care to explain what is missing and why are you apologizing?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you waited, for almost three minutes.

“I lost the scrunchy you gave me” He finally admitted, like a criminal at trial.

Eddie heard you sigh, to his ears, was a sigh of disappointment. In reality, it was a sigh of relief. Only Edward Munson knew how to make a simple thing as a scrunchy into a faithful message.

“That’s it? Eddie, it’s just a hair tie” You shook your head, still not comprehending the dimensions of his problem.

“It’s not just a hair tie!” He exclaimed, now almost offended, of course only he could switch mood that easily. A few curious students looked at your way, still wondering how did an adorable piece of cotton and sunshine like you, was dating the metalhead, three-times senior freak of not only high school, but of the whole town.

“Yes it is, love. I can just give you another one, don’t worry— Look, I can give you the one I’m wearing…”

“I don’t want that one” He said, his words sounding almost like a tantrum. “I want the one you gave me on our first date, the yellow one with little sunflowers”

“Daisies, Eddie” You corrected him with a smile. Only Eddie was able to remember such a tiny detail and forget a crucial detail.

Only Eddie was able to make you feel loved, cherished and appreciated. He was so different from every other person you have dated before. He snatched your heart from the very first day and it’s been a daily occurrence for almost a year. The scary, weird freak, the person considered a devil worshipper, the mean senior who had the admirable (or idiotic) courage to stand out against others who felt like they had the right to humiliate and ridicule those who weren’t like them. Your Eddie, the one who broke a jock’s nose one time for slapping your ass walking through the halls. Your Eddie, who waited patiently until every extracurricular activities you were into were over, so he could drive you home and hold your thigh and listen to you throughout the whole ride. Your Eddie, who loved Saturday night because it meant movie night, cuddles and kisses. The mean freak who let you braid his hair, paint his nails, sew his old t-shirts.

The Eddie Munson who was scared of spiders but wasn’t scared of a hundred people crowd. The boy who initiated a food fight at the cafeteria and had to go to the nurses office because an orange hit his eye and he realized he was allergic to them. The man who every Friday made fairy tales, knight stories and evil monsters come true and walk this very earth with just his voice and his imagination at his D&D club. Your Eddie, who on your first date, dropped a chocolate milkshake on top of your white dress, forgot to fill his fuel tank, and had to push his van all the way to the nearest gas station.

That’s how the bright scrunchy ended up in his hair, in a makeshift ponytail that you made by running your delicate fingers through his tangled hair.

That was your Eddie.

Your Eddie. Yours. Yours.

“Fine, let’s go find it” You said, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Tell me what you did today…”

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. Thank you for reading!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[morose-melodies]

love like this | yandere! capitano x reader

summary: you're terrified of the captain but what did he do wrong??

content warning: (y/n) thinks shes being abused (mental illness)

"I believe the captain will be coming back today."

the dark mansion felt gloomy ever since the announcement, you didn't hate him, no, but you weren't very excited to see him again.

subconsciously, you dragged a finger across your wrist before standing from the couch in the living room and peeking out of the window once again.

despite the confusing feelings you feel every time you think of him, you still enjoy his company and you're sure he enjoys yours too.

the windows were cold and your breath fogged up the view, but once it cleared, you noticed the gates were slowly opening and you imagined yourself running through those gate.

you smiled to yourself as you backed away from the window and turned to walk up the stairs, but that walking turned into running as you heard the front door open.

you ran down the dark, unlit hallway until you met the end of it, you opened the door and the end and closed it behind yourself, releasing a shaky breath.

you heard him walking up the stairs, coming closer and closer towards where you were, it was hard not to hear, you backed away from the door, running to the bathroom and slammed the door behind yourself.

you slumped down against the door, your hands against your chest to calm yourself down, but the panic your felt only seemed to become stronger as the seconds passed.

with shaky hands, you sat them to your sides, listening as the door to the main room opened, you hear capitano walk in before pausing.

you bit down onto your brusied lip, your hands trembling as your heard his foot steps get closer and closer towards the door.

he knocked on the door.

"I heard you run up the stairs. are you not feeling well?" His voice was muffled behind the door, you hesitated but then said, "I'm okay."

"if that's the case, let me in." He wasn't asking, he was demanding, you after steadying yourself, you stood up slowly and opened the door, peaking out.

he pushed the door open when you hesitated and pulled you into his arms, whispering to you how badly he missed you.

"it breaks my heart when you run away from me, do you know that?" He questioned, you shook your head, apologizing before pushing away from the hug.

his touch was cold.

he held you in his arms, refusing to release you, even as you pushed at his chest. his fingers wrapped around the thin fabric of your nightgown.

he took in a deep breath before saying, "I received a letter from your handmaiden," his grip on you loosened ever so slightly, but his grip on your gown remained the same, "in the letter, she told me that you've been going out, far more than you normally do. where have you been going, (y/n)?"

the way he spoke told you he was doubting you, it bothered you. it had been quite some time since you last acted out.

his grip on your gown tightened, as if he were hurrying you up, tell you to answer. he doesn't act like this usually.

his urgency worried you.

you blinked, once and then twice, your hands slowly dropping, no longer touching him, "you... you know I like going out. what's so weird about it?"

"where were you, (y/n)? tell me."

"I... I just visited the marketplace... I got very lonely while you were gone," you placed your hand onto capitano arm, lifting your eyes to look at him.

"and who took you there?"

"dottore... when he had free time, he would take me there." you replied, your voice slowly became more and more weak as you began to feel nervous.

capitano released your gown and in return you let go of his arm. "I remember telling you to go nowhere until I came back. how is it that you forget?"

"I'm sorry. I just got so lonely... I'm very sorry," after all you said, capitano still grabbed you, and carried you to his bedroom, despite all of your apologies.

down the dark hallway, capitano called out, "bring dinner to us, knock on the door before entering."

and a maid from downstairs answered, "of course, my lord."

upon entering his bedroom, he sat you at the edge of his bed. you shook your head, once again blubbering your apologies.

"stop it," capitano shook his head, holding a hand out, gesturing for you to be quiet, "I am not going to hurt you. it hurts me to see you so afraid."

but, how could you not be afraid? he was frightening. "o-okay," you sniffled, wiping away the stray tears on your face.

capitano seated himself beside you, his hand rested on your thigh, as if to steady you -- to calm you down. "you have to understand why I worry for you. tell me, (y/n), how many times have you ran off and gotten into trouble?"

many, many times but you couldn't bring yourself to reply, only sniffle.

"you and I both know you've gotten in trouble more times than we can count on our hands combined," capitano gently squeezed at the flesh on your thighs, "come here," he held his arms out and you crawled into his arms, letting him hug you.

"how could I ever harm you, (y/n)? what's the matter with you?" this had been going on for months now, it was sudden also, you woke up one morning and were terrified of the captain.

you would flinch at his every move, cower away from him, or even run to hide from him given the chance - it was disheartening. he tried to give you distance, he had tried everything for you.

he had given you months of space, time to think, time to be away from him - the captain thought, perhaps, that would fix the problem, but it did not.

the captain vividly remembered one night when you screamed and cried in your sleep - kicking, fighting, shivering, and murmuring. the captain couldn't watch it, so, he woke you up, pulling you into his arms, making you look at him - he questioned you, tried to soothe you but you looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.

what had gone so wrong? months prior, the captain would have sworn you loved him - you would run to greet him whenever he arrived home, you would pester him and you had never cowered in fear at the sight of him.

"if you would just tell me, (y/n), what I've done so wrong - I would do everything in my power to better it, I can promise you that," the captain ran his hand up your back, his hand moving to rest on your trembling shoulders, "speak to me, (y/n). I care for you, so, so much."

"you..." you paused, sniffling, your head resting on his shoulder, "you..." you couldn't remember but you were terrified and you couldn't understand why.

"(y/n), please," the captain pleaded, his hands holding your shoulders - his grip was not firm, not anymore, no, it was gentle, delicate. the captain tried so hard to make you feel safe, he tried so hard to make everything better.

you believed wholeheartedly that the captain had harmed you and the captain knew that. "(y/n)... I harmed you," it wasn't true, it wasn't, the captain wouldn't dare, no, he wouldn't dream of harming you but, for your sake... "what could I do to make it better?"

"wha..." you lifted your head, eyes wide as you looked at him - what could he do to make it better? "l-let me be," you stammered, squirming out of his lap to stand in front of him, "i... I don't want to be here all the time... I want to do normal things and live a normal lif-"

the captain nodded. "of course, I'd do anything to make this better, (y/n)," the captain stood and took a deep breath - he could already feel himself beginning to worry; what would happen if he let you leave the manor? would you be alright? would you attempt to leave him? would you-

"if it would make you feel better, (y/n), I will permit it."

[blackenedsnow]

thin as air

WARNING: Mentions of anorexia and body dysmorphia, violence, injury, unhealthy relationships, dark themes, rough handling, unhealthy attachment.

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Anorexic! Reader

NOTE: Hey, just sharing this because i know a lot of us are going through it too. It’s very scary. I’m in a rough spot myself so i wanted to write something that might feel like a weird kind of comfort, even if it’s dark and messy. Remember, it’s fiction; take care of yourself. Love you all, take what you need <3 (Also this is in first person.)

SUMMARY: Art’s affection is all-consuming, and you don’t quite understand why you’re the object of his twisted love. There is NOTHING sexual even if it may sound like it!!

Sometimes, I wonder if Art even knows what I am – this mess of bones, thin skin, hollow eyes. I see the way he looks at me, with that dead, unwavering gaze of his. The way his black-rimmed eyes flicker over my body, taking in every protruding rib, every visible vein. It’s like he’s fascinated by me, by this shell of a person I’ve become.

And honestly? I’m just as fascinated by him.

I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know why it happened. I don’t even know if Art knows why he’s here with me, this painted monster, this creature who has taken me as his own. He’s rough, always has been – he’s broken one of my bones before. My wrist, I think it was, his grip too tight in one of his fits of… whatever it is he feels. Love, rage, lust? I don’t know. I don’t think Art knows either. But he’s always there, his hands wandering over me like he can’t get enough, even as he’s hurting me.

It’s like he’s drawn to my fragility.

I guess that’s the irony. I’m so close to death already, bones so thin you could snap them with a careless touch, a body starved down to the barest scraps. Sometimes I think that’s what he’s here for – to watch me die slowly, to revel in the sight of me wasting away. I wonder if that’s the appeal, the reason he never leaves.

But then he’ll reach out, his hand cupping my cheek with a gentleness I didn’t know he was capable of. And I realize – no. That’s not it at all. He’s here because he loves me. Art loves me.

It doesn’t make sense. But it doesn’t have to. Not to him, not to me.

I think he likes the sharp edges of my bones, the way my body feels fragile beneath his hands. There’s something about the way he touches me, careful sometimes, rough others, like he’s afraid I’ll break if he’s not careful – but sometimes he forgets. Sometimes he’ll grip me too tight, his fingers pressing into my skin with enough force to leave bruises, marks that will linger for days.

Once, when he’d been particularly careless, I felt something crack beneath his fingers. The pain had been sharp, sudden, and I’d cried out, my voice weak, but he’d just stared, his head tilting to the side as if he were studying a work of art. And maybe, to him, I am. A fragile, breakable thing, something he can hold in his hands and twist, bend to his will.

But he’d stopped then, his hands falling away, his eyes wide with something like surprise. He hadn’t meant to hurt me.

The thing is, I love him too. Maybe that’s the sickest part of it all, the fact that I look at him, at this monster who kills without remorse, who breaks me without meaning to, and I feel something like warmth in my chest. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I feel this way, why I keep letting him touch me, hold me, break me.

Maybe it’s because he sees me. In his own strange way, Art sees me. He sees the parts of me that I try to hide, the emptiness that gnaws at me from the inside, the hunger that never seems to go away. He sees the hollowness in my eyes, the way I wither away piece by piece, and he doesn’t turn away. He doesn’t tell me to stop, doesn’t tell me I need to eat, to get better.

He just… stays.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. But in a way, it’s comforting. Because in his silence, in his wordless presence, I find a strange sense of belonging. I find a twisted kind of love, the kind that doesn’t judge, that doesn’t demand anything of me except to exist. To be here, with him, in whatever form I am.

And maybe that’s enough.

Sometimes, when he’s lying beside me, his hand resting on my hip, his touch feather-light as if he’s afraid to press down too hard, I’ll close my eyes and pretend that he’s human. That he’s just a man, lying beside me, his warmth seeping into my skin. But then I’ll feel his fingers tighten, his grip growing possessive, and I’m reminded of what he is – a killer, a creature who takes lives without a second thought.

But he doesn’t take mine.

No matter how close I get, no matter how many times I think this is it, that I’ll finally slip away, he’s always there. Sometimes I wonder if he’d let me die if I truly wanted to, if he’d just sit back and watch as I faded into nothing. But I think he’d fight for me. I think he’d drag me back, kicking and screaming, because he loves me.

I feel his hands on me again, his touch rough and insistent, and I can feel the bruises blooming beneath his fingers, but I don’t mind. I welcome the pain, the reminder that I’m still here, still alive. And in that moment, with his body pressed against mine, I don’t feel empty. I feel full, filled with something dark and consuming, something that threatens to swallow me whole.

And maybe that’s the real reason he’s here – not to watch me die, but to keep me alive.

The days blend together when he’s gone. Time’s got this funny way of stretching and folding over on itself in his absence, like the hours are conspiring to keep me waiting. I lose track of them – they bleed together in a mess of dark corners and quiet. Every so often, I glance over at the door, waiting for him to appear in that grimy frame, caked in blood and staring with that quiet, maddening intensity. But every time, there’s just silence. And the longer he’s gone, the more I start to wonder if maybe this is it.

If maybe, he’s not coming back.

I tell myself that’s probably a good thing. That maybe he’s off killing for good this time, slipping into someone else’s nightmare. And yet, there’s this ache that gnaws at me, dull and hollow, a feeling like missing something I never thought I’d have. Because even as he breaks me, even as he holds me with a grip that threatens to splinter bone, Art feels like the only real thing in my life. The only solid, terrifying constant.

So when the door finally creaks open, it feels like time itself stops – or maybe, like it finally begins to move again.

He steps inside, dragging a heavy, metallic scent of blood with him, his face painted in his usual grin but with something else lurking beneath. Something dark, simmering – anger. But it’s not at me; I know that look. And on his head, absurdly, he’s wearing a Santa hat, the red fluff soaked a deep maroon where it caught a spatter of blood.

I almost laugh. He looks unhinged and festive all at once, as if he’s ripped the hat off some poor soul in the middle of one of his routines. Art stands there, his eyes narrowing as they settle on me, like he’s deciding something. But even angry, even with whatever it is simmering beneath the surface, I know he wouldn’t hurt me. Not on purpose.

He prowls toward me, closing the distance in a way that has my heart stumbling over itself, and I’m caught between fear and comfort. I sit up, my mouth dry as I watch him approach, swallowing hard against the question that’s been burning in me since he left.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think you’d come back.” My voice cracks, barely more than a whisper.

He stops, staring down at me, his mouth stretching wider into that unsettling smile. Art doesn’t talk, but his eyes – there’s something fierce and sharp in them, a promise I can feel. He tilts his head, raising one finger, wagging it back and forth like he’s scolding me for even thinking it. Like the very idea of him leaving for good is ridiculous.

And maybe it is. Maybe Art’s always going to come back, no matter how many people he kills or how far he roams.

I’m still staring at that absurd hat, unable to help myself. “…Did you kill Santa?”

He gives a low, soundless laugh, his shoulders shaking as he reaches up and tips the hat toward me, his face stretching wider in a mockery of something playful. It’s disturbing and almost sweet all at once, like a monster trying to be human. He’s close now, and I can feel the roughness of his gloved hand as he brushes it over my cheek, trailing down to the sharp line of my jaw. His touch is careful, just enough pressure to remind me he’s here – and that I’m his.

“What?” I say, my voice shaky but edged with a faint smile. “You bring me a Christmas hat instead of a present?”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he lifts his hand, holding it up as if to say ‘wait.’ Then he reaches behind him, pulling something from the garbage bag he always carries around. It’s a small, battered box, dented and stained but unmistakably a gift.

I look at him, surprised, and he just grins wider, holding it out. My hands shake as I take it, heart pounding as I pry the lid open. Inside is… a ring. Old and tarnished, probably pried off a victim. But it’s beautiful.

He watches as I slide it on, something warm flickering in his eyes – if anything warm could ever live in those black pits. There’s no need for words. His gaze says it all, a silent declaration that I’m his and he’s mine, even if it makes no sense, even if it’s a nightmare stitched together by blood and broken bones.

The absurdity of it hits me, and I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in ages. “Guess this makes it official, huh?”

Art raises one hand in a mock toast, his grin impossibly wide, and for a second, the air between us feels almost… normal. Like we’re two people who understand each other in a way no one else could.

[choccorin]

light rain | ft. sakura

tags. fluff , sakura haruka x gn! reader, maybe ooc 'kura?

at the early stages of your relationship, sakura never knew that you get sick very easily and he found this out when you were going on a light stroll.

sakura was on break from patrolling when he saw you shopping for some things at a store, since he was on break, he offered to walk you home and you happily accepted.

while he was walking you from, it started to rain a little bit. you knew that you'd get sick even at the tiniest bit of rain, so you told him to hurry up.

once you arrive to your apartment, you were both a bit wet from the rain. so before he left, you offer him your umbrella. he declined at first saying he doesn't need it but you insisted, you explained that you didn't want your boyfriend to be sick. he turns red at the nickname, he accepts your umbrella with a blushing face.

it was now the next day, sakura thought it was weird that you didn't go to school today, you didn't even tell him why. he got a little sad that you didn't tell him but he's never admit that. he's getting worried so he decided to call you.

his phone rings and you immediately pick up.

“hey, you okay?” he says on the phone, he was expecting you to respond but got confused when he heard coughing and sniffling instead,

“are you sick?!” he yells with a worried tone, surprising his friends beside him.

you sniffle, “yeah .. the light rain caught to me yesterday ...” you chuckle, cringing at the sound of your hoarse voice.

“okay, i'll be right there.” sakura replied, suddenly ending the call.

“huh- what?” you were left shocked, looking at your phone. did you hear him correctly? he's coming over to your place?!

sakura rushed out pothos café, explaining to his friends — just as shocked as you were — that he had something to do before running out.

in just 5 minutes, your door bell rang. you hurriedly open the door to find sakura in front of your door, panting while holding a small bag.

“you actually cough came .. ” you were also out of breath, you sheepishly smile at him.

“wha- what are you doing out of bed, dumbass!?” he pulls in you to your apartment, closing the door behind him. his grip on your wrist is firm — but gentle.

he sits you on your bed, “stay here. i-i'll take care of you, okay?” his hands on your shoulders were trembly and he looks nervous, this is his first time taking care of someone and being inside your apartment, of course he was nervous.

he walks out your room and you here some clattering in your kitchen, you wanted to get up but you don't want to disobey your already stressed boyfriend.

you didn't want him to see you all vulnerable like this but you were glad that he came just to take care of you, seeing him all worried about you made your heart melt and also made you feel a bit better.

sakura comes back with a bowl of soup, water and some medicines. he tells you to eat, explaining that kotoha gave it to him before he ran out of the café.

“give kotoha my thanks then. ” your voice sounds weak and softer than usual.

sakura doesn't like seeing you being weak like this, it makes him want to protect you like your some kind of hurt cat.

sakura meant it when he said he'll take care of you since he went home at 6 am, never leaving your side. it was the next day and still early but he had classes and patrolling so you offered him to go now, after a lot of reassuring him that you're better now, he leaves.

sakura never carries any umbrellas with him, his body is used to getting drenched in rain anyways. but this changed when he saw how sick you were that day, so now, he always carries an umbrella so that in case you forget yours — which you often do — and it looks like it's going to rain, he'll give it to you.

he might not say that he loves you by his words, but his actions say otherwise.

n. this is self indulgent. i get sick very easily so i thought about sakura being worried about his sickly lover <3

t. @kyoghurts hi :3

[verstappentime]

more of daniel taking care of max when he has a migraine that i didn't post ❤️ if you're just joining us, max had a career-ending head injury and left f1. he and daniel are married but currently broken up!

(part 1/part 2)

“Stay,” Max says, rushed, before Charles can get anything else out.

“Okay,” Daniel says. He tries to clear the lump in his throat. He’s been waiting for Max to say that word, but this is as close as he’ll get, probably. “Tilt your head forward for me.” Max does; Daniel gingerly presses the ice where his head meets his neck.

Max hisses, reaching up to grab Daniel’s forearm. It’s been so long since Max initiated touch with him; Daniel forces himself not to jolt.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

Max groans, gradually loosening his grip. “Can we do the bathtub thing?”

“The– Oh, yeah, sure. Charles, do you have a bath?”

“I feel like you are being the doctor and I am the nurse,” Charles says. He’s hovering closer than a second ago. “Yes, I do, is it for something weird?”

“Nurses are very important,” Max says. Daniel wonders if the meds are making him loopy already.

“It’s not for anything weird. Can you fill it up with hot water? As hot as it can get without burning.”

“Fine. But it’s for him.” It’s too dark for Daniel to see the look Charles is giving him. Just as well.

Daniel stays there, crouched beside Max, keeping the ice pressed to his neck. Max’s breaths are shallow, like he’s trying really hard not to wince, but he’s mostly failing. “The medicine is gonna help,” he says, just for something to say. In the dark, eyes closed, Max reaches around for his hand. Daniel links their fingers, squeezing hard. Max’s hand is clammy and he can’t get a good grip on Daniel, all weak and floppy. “Tell me what feels bad?”

Max turns his face into a couch cushion, making a tiny whining sound. “It’s– like, all the bad stuff. I scared Charles with the throwing up.” He’s talking more, which is a good sign.

“It’s fine,” Daniel says. “He called me and I’m here now, so it’s fine.” He presses his thumb against where Max’s jaw meets his cheek. He’s so tense everywhere.

Charles comes back into the room. “The water’s in the bath. I’m saying again to not do anything weird.”

“We are going to do something so weird,” says Max. He groans as he swivels his legs around to stand up, pressing on his forehead. “Ah, fuck. Shit.” He grabs Daniel’s wrist, squeezing hard.

“Take it easy,” Daniel says, clearing his throat where it’s all thick. He hates this, he hates that Max hurts, that he’s still hurting, and he— he loves, sort of, that it’s him Max is reaching out for. It’s fucking twisted.

Max doesn’t ask to be helped, so Daniel doesn’t offer, just hovers as Max slowly pushes himself to stand up. But Max is unwieldy, swaying a little, and— and he grabs for Daniel again. Maybe it’s just because Daniel’s seen it all before, because he’s fed him and bathed him and sat with him in the middle of the night, but. He’s still being chosen. “Sorry,” Max says, like Daniel would ever want him to do anything else. “My eyes are not so good.”

“It’s fine. I have you.” I always will, I always fucking will.

Charles waves them through to his master bathroom. In the light, Daniel can see that Max’s left pupil is blown. He’s sweaty and he looks like shit, hair all messed up, but he’s Max, and he’s gorgeous. Daniel wants to hold him.

“Max, yell for me if he is doing anything weird to you,” Charles says, and ducks out of the room. Conceding.

“You could have told him we’re not getting naked.”

“I mean, I am taking my pants off,” Max says. “Can I hold onto you?”

Daniel nods slowly, feeling oddly like he should look away. He watches the ceiling as Max holds onto him for balance.

If Max notices him acting weird, he doesn’t say so. “You’ll get your pants wet,” he says instead.

Oh. Daniel glances to the door, where Charles is not. This isn’t what he expected when he woke up today, he thinks, as he’s stepping out of his jeans.

They sit on the edge of the tub, Daniel pressing the ice pack to Max’s neck. It’s an easy trick; get the circulation down into his lower body and away from his head.

“Charles could do this,” Daniel says, after a moment.

“I know,” Max says. He leans his head on Daniel’s shoulder, closing his eyes. He doesn’t say it, but Daniel knows it: I wanted you. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

[coff33andb00ks]

3am - LN & OP

lando norris x oscar piastri

summary: look at the stars, look how they shine for you warnings: angst, pining, not proofread songs: yellow and fix you by coldplay coldplay is landoscar coded wordcount: 1.3k a.n.: writing this in the hopes landoscar get out of my brain… shout out to the four moots that encouraged this. also not tagging anyone because it's 2:30am and I'm exhausted.

He can't sleep. It isn't unusual, his insomnia tend to rear its ugly head when he least needs it. He only wishes he could prepare in advance, that it was a cycle that he could predict and plan for, like his sisters with their apps that are set to warn the entire family when their PMS is approaching.

Dragging a hand over his face, he glares at the ceiling. Great. Now he's thinking about his sisters' cycles.

There's nothing for it but to just get up. No use fighting it and tossing and turning, that only leads to—

A husky moan. Teeth sinking into the lip he'd just sucked. Jaw carved from the gods' finest marble clenching.

"Lan…"

Cinnamon and mint.

Dreams that will never come true.

He presses his hands to his face, hunching over on the side of the bed. The hotel room is too small, too warm, too—

Lonely.

"Fuck this," he hisses, on his feet and snatching up his hoodie.

Torture. He willingly submits to it, knowing it will only leave him feeling hollow and alone when he returns to his room. But it's all he has. All he can cling to on a night like this, when the voices and thoughts won't stop, when the butterflies and bees are swarming inside him.

When the doubts and the worries rise over the shoddy façade of outgoing and joyful, there's only one thing that can quell them.

One person.

He's pinned his hopes all on someone who can never fully know the truth. The one person who understands him best, who knows him better than he does himself, whose name he proudly wears on his wrist.

The last person he wants to lie to, but shields the truth from.

The truth. The tiny, glowing ember of good sentiment that has somehow been crafted among the ruins of his fractured existence. He holds it closer to his heart than his very soul, fearful of it dying if revealed to a cruel world. Or, worse, an uninterested recipient.

He stares at the door. It's – he pulls his cracked phone from his pocket – almost three in the morning. Horrible friend, waking him this time of night.

A muffled sound. A footstep or a chair sliding under a table. His rounded shoulders straighten, his lowered head lifts.

He knocks. Just twice, like he always does when it's just him. If someone was with him it would be incessant. Knockknockknockknockknockknockknock— fucking hell, what?!

The door opens and he breathes in shampoo and lingering steam.

The universe hates him sometimes.

"Lando?"

One day, the sound of his name in that voice won't make his heart do that weird flippy thing. One day, it won't make his lip quirk up into a half smile. One day, he won't sigh.

Not today. Not tonight.

"Osco."

Osco. Osc. Os. Oscar looks at him with that confused pinched brow that immediately relaxes.

What's it like, to really be seen?

Heartbreaking.

Oscar steps back without a word and weak legs carry him into the mirror of his room. The bed is messy and it makes his stomach clench.

Dreams.

"Sor—"

He quiets with a look. He ducks his head, picking at his fingers. He wants to apologize again, for apologizing to begin with, and he wants to apologize once more for always needing to apologize, for being such a fucking mess that he is standing here in Oscar's hotel room at 3am instead of sleeping peacefully in his own.

"Tell me about it?"

Not what's wrong. Not why are you here. Never leave me alone.

Always tell me about it. Share your worries, lean on me, I'm your friend and your teammate, you're not doing this alone.

"I don't…" Wanna talk about it. Just let me stand here. Bask in the calming glow of your star until I can pretend to be a human again. "I don't… Why are you up?"

Oscar shrugs. His smile is faint. "Had a feeling."

"Oh." Oh. Because he hears the unspoken words, feels the unspoken sentiment.

Had a feeling you'd need me, so I waited up for you.

He wants to cry because no one else cares enough to wait up for him.

"Oh."

His face looks haunted, his eyes like they may produce tears at any second.

Heart in his throat, he sits on the bed. He knows better than to prod, knows all too well that the golden man standing by his suitcase will snarl and bite when provoked. So he waits.

Watching.

He's tense, his deceptively lean frame giving off waves of stress and worry and—

"Can't sleep," Lando whispers.

Exhaustion.

He nods, even though Lando isn't looking at him. Except he is, he can see his reflection in the mirror. Stormy green eyes are watching him, as though he holds all the answers to the world's problems.

Or, if not the world's, Lando's.

Same thing.

"I'm worried about tomorrow." A humorless, breathy exhalation that passes for a chuckle. "Today."

He's been worried since Austria. His insecurities are rising after simmering since Miami when the world's stage witnessed his greatness.

If I don't keep winning how can I prove I'm worthy?

If I don't glow for the world how can anyone love me?

"I hate Silverstone," he breathes.

Not the PR lie, about how special his home track is, the memories he has of it as a child, how the crowd gives him an indescribable energy. He hates it for the expectation. It's his home race so he has to perform well. His car has to be the fastest, the strats have to be impeccable, because he can't let the people that believe in him down.

Worse, he can't let himself down, as he's been doing for two months.

Oscar's heart splinters. No one will ever be as hard on Lando as Lando. No one takes on the blame for an entire team, an entire grid, like the man turning and sinking onto the bed.

Not the golden man the fans and media see, but the shy boy Oscar knows better than he knows himself. The perfectly imperfect extroverted introvert with a heart as pure as the twinkling stars in a night sky. The favorite child still terrified of disappointing his parents, the favorite brother that cries when has to miss an important milestone.

There's a space between them and before the billions of reasons he shouldn't come to mind Oscar closes it. The stars are there, twinkling still, shielded behind a cloud. Their arms touch and he wishes he could exhale and send the clouds away. He can't though, so he sits and waits, umbrella at the ready, an open ear and a sturdy shoulder.

It's a small percentage of what he's willing to give.

It's all that's wanted.

"Tell me I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid."

His shoulder's round and he's staring at his hands. Picking at his fingers. Knee bouncing.

Pure frenetic energy.

Oscar watches the knee and the fingers. Sees his own hand reach out.

Cool fingers, warm hand. Pale over gold.

Chins lift, heads swivel.

Mint eyes. Worry and heartbreak spill over and his own name is a whispered prayer.

Osco.

"You're not stupid," he says. The floodgate opens. "You don't have to believe that. I'll believe it for you until you're ready. I'll believe in you when you can't. I'll stay up 'til 3 so you can rest. And I'll provide the words you pretend to not remember."

That you started doing to make me feel needed. It worked. And now I know you do need me but more importantly I need you.

Golden fingers spread, slotting between his.

The clouds thin and the stars shine brighter than ever.

[dstryvampres]

Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy

Paring: Neil Lewis x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: smut, you have a cowboy kink :3

“What do you think?” Neil says, strutting down the narrow hallway out of his office.

Looking up from the magazine you were mind-numbingly immersed in, mostly due to the weird jingling coming from where Neil was coming from, you were greeted with an oddly pleasant view. Neil, uncharacteristically, dressed up as a cowboy. Black cowboy hat, a pair of black loose fitting jeans to match, a light denim button up shirt tucked into his pants with a couple buttons undone at the top, a black bandana tied around his neck, and cowboy boots that edged on godawful. Somehow Neil’s outfit of the week wasn’t that bad, it was kind of attractive…

“Hello? Anyone in there,” Neil waves his hand infront of your face, you try to grab his wrist but he snatches his hand away before you can get a full grasp. “So?”

“I think it’s better than last Saturday’s Dracula costume, that’s for sure,” trying to sound as uninterested as you possibly can despite the fact that you were undeniably very into the cowboy thing.

“Oh, come on. I had you speechless for a good minute there,” Neil points out, before mimicking a one-man gun fight.

“It’s fine,” is all you give him.

Neil sighs dramatically and pouts. Walking over to the couch infront of the TV and flopping down onto it, his melodrama is almost good enough to make you pity him, but he’s pulled this trick one too many times for it to do the full damage he intended. Soon enough you're trying your best to flip through the magazine in your hands. Unlike last time, you can’t seem to find it as interesting as it was before you saw Neil. The cowboy outfit fit him a little too well. Amount of undone buttons showed off his collarbones so well, hat fit weirdly well ontop of his head, and his pants hugged his ass in a way that made you drool. Maybe your boss dressing up as a cowboy was a new awakening for you. God you really hope not.

“Welcome to Gumshoe!” Neil welcomes the customer, springing off the couch and fixing his hat, “We have a special deal on Westerns this week, if you want to look into that just let me or my lovely employee at the counter know.”

You smile at the customer, before your eyes start to drift over to Neil. How you were going to last a full day working here while he looked like that, you didn’t know. As he blabbed to the customer about whatever movie they could be looking for, you willed yourself to look anywhere else, to do anything else besides stare weirdly at your boss and give yourself a girl boner over his outfit. There’s always returns you can sort through and late calls you can make, is what you settle on.

Pulling out the box from under the counter you start to sort through the returns of the past couple of days absentmindedly. Despite trying your hardest not to stare at your boss and focus on your task, you can’t help it. As he stanters around the shop in those stupid black jeans, fixes the buttons on his shirt, even daring to pop another button open, you can feel the wetness in your pants increase by the minute. It’s embarrassing. You move over to the back corner to start storing the movies, hoping this new perspective with a noticeable lack of view of your employer will help calm you down, but it does nothing. Possibly making it worse, this lack of seeing the real Neil makes your imagination kick in. Oh, what he could do for you. Legs over his shoulders. Is he soft or rough? What would he say during it? Is it just the costume or has he always looked this good? There’s a tap on your shoulder and you whip your head around.

It’s Neil.

“Can you check out the customer? I’ll take this over, don’t worry.” A blush spreads over your cheeks, and you can only seem to nod offering a weak, guilty smile to him. Standing up on shaky legs you make your way over to the register trying to make as little contact with Neil as possible. Knowing that if you touch him you will moan.

Your face feels hot, likely flushed, so you check out the customer as fast as you can. Plan foiled by their lack of a loyalty card. Soon enough they are out the door and gone, but you could’ve sworn you input their address wrong.

“Is the A/C not working?” Neil had sneaked up on you, grasping your shoulder. You jump, causing him to let out a small laugh.

“Uh- Yeah, I think so? Why are you asking?”

You knew why he was asking, you were sweating profusely and were red in the face. Even leaving a sweaty hand mark on the register, and possibly the DVD the customer rented out. All fueled by the simple cowboy costume worn by the man behind you. Curse ‘Western week’ at Gumshoe Videos, and curse Neil and his need to dress up for every event the store held, no matter how miniscule. 

“You’re just very sweaty and red. Is there any other reason? Possibly got the hots for anyone,” Neil teased, poking your shoulder.

To anyone other than you, it would’ve been quite obvious that he wasn’t referring to himself and was, instead, referring to the customer who just left. After all, most of your more noticeable nerves showed up after their arrival. But your nerves paired with just how close Neil was to you lead to the disastrous reply.

“No! Of course not! And it’s definitely not you either.” Followed by nervous choppy laughter.

“What?” 

Neil was not laughing.

“I have to go stock shelves.”

Neil stands there for a couple seconds before following behind you, despite how you desperately try to lose him. The shop is small and cramped, losing anyone in here is close to impossible. Just getting down to work is the best option right now, you plop down beside a box full of DVDs and try to ignore your boss.

“Look. I’m not offended or thrown off by what you said, but are you serious?”

You look up at Neil, guilt and embarrassment coating your face.

“You are! What is it? My charms? My humour? My looks?”

You go back to stocking DVDs.

“Is it the cowboy outfit?”

You look back up in absolute horror. He’s grinning at this realisation, both amusement and disbelief smeared all over his cocky smile. 

“Well how would you like to ride a real cowboy?” Neil asks, he’s putting on a horrible southern accent that’s somehow made the outfit so much more attractive.

You stand up and crash your lips together. The kiss catches Neil off guard, stumbling back a step or two before he’s reciprocating at the same force as you. Getting eager you pull at the hair on his nape. He moans into your mouth. God it’s better than you thought it would sound. God, do you want to ride this cowboy.

“Hey,” Neil breaks away, breathing heavily, “Can we, uh, can we take this back to my office?”

You nod, basically pushing Neil back to his own office. Both of you are giggling the whole way there. Normally being so giddy over something like this would make you sick, but you’re hot and have a growing tingling in your lower stomach urging you onwards. Once the door is closed to his office your lips are back on his, hand tangling into his hair. Stumbling forwards into him until you hit his desk. His hands find your hips and he groans. Lips now start to kiss your neck. Kisses sloppy and open mouthed, bordering on bites. You’re so high on excitement about this it’s making you dizzy. Never have you ever thought that you would be so excited to sleep with your boss. What a uniform can do to a man is criminal.

Neil’s hands slowly move from your hips to your breasts. Squeezing them lightly once before groping harshly. Looking down you make eye contact with him, his eyes are so round and soft, pupils blown out wide, basically pleading to let him take off your shirt.

“Go ahead,” You sigh out, he’s rubbing your nipples through your shirt.

Quickly his hands move down to the hem of your shirt, and it’s off you and on the floor. Neil starts to move his kisses down to your collar bones and breasts. Groaning the whole way down, acting like he’s never been with anyone as beautiful as you. Truthfully, it’s unlikely that he has.

His hands unclasp your bra, sliding it down your arms and exposing your boobs. Nipples hard from the cold and from the excitement of this whole ordeal. You place your hands on Neil’s jaw dragging him back up into a kiss. It’s sloppy, his spit is all over your top lip. If this was anyone else it would’ve disgusted you, but, again, something about the whole cowboy costume made it so much hotter.

“God, you’re so hot,” Neil pants into your mouth, tweaking at your nipples. You moan in response.

He’s leading you over to the couch in his office. Pushing you onto the couch, you watch him completely unbutton his slutty denim shirt before joining you. Lips crashing into yours in the same frenzy as before. Your hands come to the waistband of his pants. Desperately trying to undo his buckle. You get it undone, and as a reward Neil undoes his pants. You feel his bulge press into your hip as you continue. You stroke him through his underwear, causing him to whimper, breaking away from the kiss and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Don’t do that baby, I’ll cum, please,” Neil begs. You giggle in response, but are immediately cut off when he latches his lips around your nipple. Flicking his tongue over your nipple. Fuck. You cup his cheek.

“Neil, take off my fucking pants already,” You hiss out.

He detaches his lips from your nipple, focusing instead on sliding your jeans off of your hips. You desperately want to shy away from Neil’s gaze when he starts to feel the wet patch on your underwear that is growing by the second, but it’s hard when he’s sitting between your legs. He shoves your panties down your legs and onto the floor.

Neil looks into your eyes as he traces the line of your cunt, playing with your clit, then shoving a finger into your cunt. You immediately moan out at the intrusion, earning you a smile from Neil.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he teases.

He adds in a second finger and your eyebrows furrow. His fingers are thick. Stretching you out so nice. Finding a steady pace Neil pushes his finger in and out of your cunt, eagerly watching as your cunt easily takes in his fingers. You grip at his hair, pulling him back into a kiss. Moaning into his mouth as he fucks you with his finger, consistently brushing against your sensitive spot. 

Neil removes his fingers from your cunt, wiping them off on the couch. He makes quick work of his boxer’s pulling them down and discarding them in the pile of clothes already on the floor. He lines his cock up with your cunt and slides into you, both of you groaning at the sensation. Neil stays still for a little bit, getting adjusted to how you feel.

“Fuck you’re so tight, and so warm, and wet. You’re so nice,” Neil babbles, placing his hands on your hips.

Slowly he starts rocking back and forth into you, letting out breathy moans the whole way through. 

“You can speed up,” You tell Neil, holding onto his bicep for support.

His hips start to speed up, until the sound of skin slapping against skin and the wet sounds of your cunt echo throughout the room. Neil keeps babbling out praises, ‘so good baby’s and ‘you’re so hot’s breaking the previously mentioned sounds, along with moaning from the both of you. Neil was a surprisingly good fuck. His cock was angled perfectly into your cunt, allowing him to hit deep into your cunt each time in a way that made you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back.

“Do you- fuck- do you want to ride this cowboy?” Neil asks through pants, you look up at him. A mix of amusement and horniness coats your brain.

“Yes.” Is all it takes for Neil to slip out of you and bring you on top of him, then line up his cock with your entrance once again and slip it in.

You bounce up and down on him, aided by both his hips bucking into yours and his hands on your hips.

“You’re so good at this, holy,” Neil says, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around the bud, you yelp out.

You can feel the coil in your stomach tighten, gripping tightly on Neil’s shoulders for stability. The mix of Neil’s cock pumping in and out of you and his tongue playing with your nipples was driving you insane.

“Neil, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, all over my cock, baby.”

You reach one of your hands down from Neil’s shoulders to your clit. Rubbing your clit in quick small circles as Neil watches you with hungry eyes. 

It all comes crashing into you at once as you chant ‘cumming’ as you slump into Neil’s shoulder. He follows quickly after you. Both of you stay still for a little bit, trying to recuperate from everything. Neil rubs small circles into your lower back before you slide off of his cock. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, not being able to look at Neil after that.

“Here,” Neil says, handing you your underwear.

You both get dressed in silence, before both exiting Neil’s office.

“You can go home early today if you want,” Neil coughs out.

You end up going home early after all, walking back to your car on shaky legs and being left to think about the events of today at your apartment.

[scientia-rex]

Hi Dr. Kristophine, do you have any advice on what kind of information doctors need for medical issues that are more nebulous than "my knees hurt"? I've been feeling Weird and Bad in a way that has me concerned, but I'm afraid to make an appointment because I don't know what to say that will get the Weird and Bad feeling across in an actionable way. Going to the doctor takes SO much energy that I don't have to waste and I don't want them to just take a blood test and say everything's fine go home (again).

The best thing you can do with medical information you're trying to prepare for your medical provider, as a lay person, is be as specific as possible.

-Location: Is it one place in particular, or everywhere? Does it stay in one place, or move around?

-Timing: When did it start? Did it come on suddenly or slowly? Does it happen continuously? Does it come and go? Is it always there to some extent, but it gets better and worse? On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being fine and 10 being the worst you can imagine, how bad is it at its best, and how bad is it at its worst? How much time does it spend really bad vs only kind of bad?

-Quality: If it's pain, is it aching, burning, stabbing, dull, electrical zap, etc.? If it's not pain, what is it? Is it discomfort? Is it weakness--i.e., you can't do that thing? Is it fatigue--like maybe you can still push through doing the thing but it feels like you're trying to wade through mud to do it? Is it a racing heart, sweating, pressure?

-Triggers: Does something in particular set it off? A time of day, a food, an action, a medication, a thought? A surprisingly common trigger for migraines is sitting still with your neck in one position. (New research suggests that necks are critical to migraine formation, to which I yelled out loud at the paper, no duh!) There may be triggers you haven't noticed; try keeping a symptom diary, where you note down when you have episodes and what you were doing beforehand, what you ate that day, menstrual phase, etc. Any detail that you can remember, whether or not it seems relevant at the time.

I cannot tell you how many times I've dug deeper into a chronic issue only to discover that the patient can, in fact, tell me what the trigger is, but because it's something important to them, they simply haven't noticed. May subconsciously even avoided noticing. Do you get migraines every time you DM? Do you need to work a stretch break into your D&D session?

There can also absolutely be multiple triggers--I know I'll get migraines if I don't sleep, if I'm sick, if I sit still for too long, if I have dental work, etc.

So bring in all the info you can. Write it down if you're afraid you'll forget. Don't hand it to the MA, too many doctors will go "oh my GOD they brought a LIST how high-maintenance" and tune out. Hang on to it but tell them about everything.

I don't expect patients to be able to tell me "I believe I've had a left radial styloid fracture" but I do expect them to tell me "I fell and tried to catch myself with my left hand and now my wrist hurts," and that's good enough. The rest of it is my job. When it's something more vague, like "I started feeling different and bad about six months ago," any other information helps. Did you start a new med around then? Are you going through menopause? Do you struggle with anxiety? Do you have first-degree relatives (parent, sibling, or child) with genetic disorders, autoimmune disorders, etc.? Do you have a history of anemia? Are you vegan? Have you started having night sweats and unexplained weight loss? Did you recently travel internationally? This can go a lot more different directions than a hurty wrist, so bring in all the info you can.

And keep in mind that modern medicine is very limited--much more so than most people think. There is an excellent chance that medicine will not be able to diagnose your condition. It may still be able to offer treatment. It may fall on your shoulders to manage it as best you can, knowing that doctors don't have answers. Nobody can tell me why I have chronic pain, and I don't mean as in "I've asked doctors and they don't know," I mean "I've personally scoured the literature and had the relevant and appropriate tests and no one can know at this phase of medical knowledge." So I deal with it, I've stopped trying to push myself past my reserves because people who can't admit to ignorance tell me to, I keep my painful body moving because that helps, I do PT, I take a multivitamin occasionally because I know my diet sucks. I manage.

There are not always right or wrong answers--I don't take gabapentin, because I don't want the sedation and kidney exposure, but patients with my exact symptoms might find it helpful and may find the risks and costs worth the benefits. My mother, who has whatever it is that I have, right down to the tricky stomach, from whom I presumably inherited it, has taken medication at different points in her life, depending on how much pain she was in and what other responsibilities she has, and that is perfectly reasonable. Autonomy matters. People have to be able to make these choices for themselves, with assistance but not paternalism from their medical professionals, because the math is different for everyone.

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

I love ur works so i just HADDDD to request!!!! Ik its impossible for sinners to even have children buuttt,,,, Vox w his bio toddler daughter hcs??👀👀 Hope its not weird or anything, i js find it soo cutee. Would love a sprinkle of angst too!!

A/N — Your honor, I love this ask. I've been imagining so many characters as girl dads lately, and Vox was certainly one of them. I feel like it's moreso implied angst at one point than actual angst — however, I hope you like these! I may come back in and add more if I think of more, but this is all I could think of with my tired brain lol.

Little Sunshine

Wildly protective, without a doubt.

If his daughter taped a paper tiara to his screen, he's wearing it all day (he sometimes forgets it's there — you know how many times he's worn a poorly colored paper tiara on live television? . . Often.)

He loves that she looks like her mother, but already thinks just like him.

Vox only dresses his little girl in the best, which is usually something Velvette made just for her.

He pretends to be upset when he finds her running around the penthouse with his stolen overcoat draped over her with the sleeves and coat tails dragging on the floor.

He really finds it adorable.

There's a hefty amount of people he doesn't trust to be in a room with his daughter. It's Hell, he doesn't really trust anyone.

Especially not with enemies who have tried to force his hand by using his only weakness — his precious little girl — as leverage.

All parties involved were promptly handled by a very angry, very protective father.

He insists on her being nearby all the time, needing to hear his daughter's giggles or see her sitting on the floor playing with a stuffed shark.

Speaking of sharks. He let her name his second shark, so now he has Vark and Spark (his name is really Sparkles, but he calls him Spark to everyone, unless she's around, then he's Sparkles.)

Generally cute and funny moments.

"Come on, sweetheart. . . Put the flour in the bowl." Then she flicked her wrist and sent half a cup of flour into his face.

She stood there for a few seconds and then turned to look at her dad, bursting into a fit of contagious giggles at the sight of him standing there, dumbfounded, with flour coating his front. "Oopsies."

He can't stay mad at her for anything, especially when she looks up at him with those big, pretty eyes and grabby hands.

She has his temper, so he sometimes finds himself standing toe to toe with this strong willed, opinionated toddler.

Anything she wants, she gets. It doesn't matter how big or small it is. Candy? He buys all her favorites. Toys? He gets all the new ones he knows she'd have interest in.

Just because he spoils her, doesn't mean she's undisciplined.

When she does something particularly bad, her punishment is spending a couple hours with Velvette (which isn't much of a punishment because mini Vox loves her auntie Vel).

He tries not to laugh when she argues with Valentino or makes some blunt comment that has the moth overlord on the edge of losing his shit.

The only think keeping Valentino from saying something he shouldn't, was the fact that Vox would end him if he even made so much as a single tear run down her cheek.

He reads her bedtime stories and stays with her until she falls asleep.

Sometimes he even dozes off next to her, her little head resting in the crook of his neck.

Stickers. Glitter. Gemstones. So. Much. Glitter. He purposely buys stuff without glitter, yet the penthouse always ends up with glitter covering some surfaces (he later finds out that she found Val's body glitter).

His daughter is the light of his afterlife. Something good in a realm of absolute shit.

[schoenpepper]

Intro: You choose the diamond bracelet.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, photos aren't mine, kinda suggestive maybe idk are u a prude

A/N: While Kalim isn't my favorite character, I like this ending a lot hehehehehe

Masterlist

The diamond bracelet makes its way to your wrist easily. To be honest, you feel like Kalim might cry if you choose not to be his date for the night, and you've always been one to spoil the prince. At the party, you're spotted and tackled before you even know what's happening. "Y/N! You're wearing my bracelet!" He sounds so happy that you're glad you made this choice.

"Of course, you know you're my favorite." You laugh and tease him, pinching his cheeks gently. Oddly, he doesn't seem too fond of your actions today. Kalim holds onto your wrist and pulls you towards an empty lounge in the banquet hall, closing the door behind him. "Kalim? Is something wrong?" You ask out of concern. For your Kalim to be acting this way is very strange, but then again, this little brother figure of yours has been acting weird for a while now. He's been giving you more and more gifts, more pouty when you spend time with others, and he seems to enjoy monopolizing you and stealing you away when you've made plans with other people. You chalk it up to his usual clinginess. But now, with the way he's hovering above you after he's pushed you down on the bed, his fingers intertwining with yours, one knee squeezed in between your legs...

Maybe you should have thought about this a bit more.

"Kalim?!"

He leans in closer to your face as he whispers. "Hey Y/N, why do you always treat me like a child?"

You don't have an answer for him.

"I'm older than you, you know? I'm not your younger brother. In fact, our lineages are very distant at this point in time." You're breathless and speechless, dazed by his words. "Distant enough for us to get married with no problem."

"Wait, wait, Kalim!"

"No, Y/N, I don't want to wait anymore." His face is so, so close to yours.

"I thought we were friends—"

"I don't want to be friends with you. Hey, Y/N?" You let out a weak hum in response.

"Can't you look at me as a man?"

Try Again?

[smoothielenny]

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ

Neteyam x omatikaya!gn!reader

Summary: You’re a very shy person to the point that you rarely speak to others. You only nodded and show body languages to communicate. Everyone just assumed that you might have a disability that causes you not to talk, but you’re just a very timid person.

Warning: bullying, teasing, not proofread

[one•two•three]

Y’all gave so much love to my first writing ever. Thank you, so here’s a gift for you guys❤️

You love walking around the forest. You always adore the little things in life, specifically insects. You love watching them crawl on top of the leaf whether carrying their food or running away from you. Everyone finds you weird for it, but you didn’t care much. You’re very distracted in your own world.

There’s this one insect that you find intriguing, it has a purple with blue stripes on it. You followed the little bug crawling towards underneath the leaf. You frowned from it’s action, the bug thought that you are a threat, but try to prove that you aren’t.

You ripped a leaf from a plant and use it to scoop water nearby a pond. You came back to the bug and offered the water to it. It look at you with a bit of confusion then look at the water. It step towards it, but still doesn’t trust it so it step back. You move the leaf near the bug which hesitates to walk back, but eventually does and drink the water.

You smiled and lay down to watch the bug beside you drinking it’s water. It was only a short time of enjoyment until a foot is set on your presence. You look up and it was those boys, those boys who always teases you. They never leave you alone, they love to taunt you. You sigh and stand up as the bug flee away.

“Oh it’s (y/n), I thought it was another bug.” The boy cackles with his friend. They sneered and one them approached you that causes you to step back, “Oh c’mon, I don’t bite.” His sarcastic tone made your ear flat. You just wanna be left alone.

You turned around and tried to walk from them, but they grabbed your wrist and tail and starts pulling them here and there. You cried in pain as they laugh, even through pain you couldn’t let out a loud help, you just injured it.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” They all turned around on the same direction and ran away. ‘Finally’ you thought, you groaned as you stand up. You brush off some dirt all over your body. You look at the boy who just saved you. It was Neteyam. Your eyes widen, you’ve never personally talked to the son of Olo’eyktan. Well as if you would, you’re too timid to talk.

“Are you okay?” He walked close to you. You step back refusing to look at him, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just checking.” You glance at him, you suddenly feel a sting from your forearm. You look at it and it has a wound, fresh blood still dripping.

Neteyam noticed and grabbed your wrist and walked, “You’re bleeding, we need to get you to grandma.” You didn’t say anything and just let him lead you.

You stumbled here and there from your weak state, Neteyam then decided to carry you (bridal style). This made your heart suddenly flutter. You can feel his warm and hard body. It gives you comfort. The boy too can feel your body warming.

You finally arrived in the Tsahik’s marui. Neteyam carefully put you down, making sure and asking if you can stand on your own and such. You just nodded and stand next to him still covering your forearm.

“Grandma, Can you help (y/n)?” Mo’at turn around to face her grandson and the injured one beside him. She walked to center then sat down. “Come here, I’ll help you.” You hesitated a bit, but Neteyam let’s you know it’ll be alright. You then sat down next to her.

She grabbed one of the paste near her, “move your hands, I need to see the wound.” You quickly remove it not wanting to disappoint her. She took a look at it for seconds. She then stand up, grabbed and wet a towel and gave it to Neteyam.

“Clean the blood off her, I’ll find a better medicine for her wound.” Neteyam just nodded and hurried himself to you. He sat down next to you, “Just tell me if it hurts, okay?” You nodded and look down.

He starts dabbing the cloth to your wound. You winced from it, “Does it hurt?” You shook your head. He continued to clean the blood off.

You didn’t know how to act. His closeness to your personal space made you a bit nervous, but at the same time comfort. He’s one of the first people who ever cared for you. It felt nice, you didn’t know you’ve been longing for something like this.

“Alright all done!” Neteyam put the clothe on the bowl and smiles at you. It made you bashful, you just look away which made the young boy frown. Mo’at then sat next to Neteyam and applied the paste. The sting shivered your whole body, you clenched your fist and bit your lip.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s almost done.” Neteyam assured. He pat your head. You look at his golden eyes and formed a wobbly smile. After a few seconds, the whole wound is covered in paste and wrapped with some leaves to stay put.

You bowed to the Tsahik as a thank you. She just nodded and took the bowl and cloth with her to clean. Neteyam helped you stand up with his hand. You felt his warm hand gently holding yours. He lead you to the entrance of the marui.

“Can you walk home by yourself?” You nodded again. You let go of his hands and walk away from him. “See you later, (y/n)!” You look back at him waving his hand.

A small smile formed on your lips, “See you later, too. Thank you, Neteyam.” You then continued to walk. Unbeknownst to you, you left the boy blushing. It was the first time he heard your voice, it was a very sweet tone.

Mo’at walked to the entrance finding her grandson staring and blushing. “Hey, where are you staring at?” Then Neteyam snap out of it.

“Oh uhm, d-did you heard them?” Neteyam asked. Mo’at tilt her head, “(y/n)? I didn’t, they could talk?” Neteyam seemed confused.

“I thought Eywa granted them not being able to speak.”