#this is why anatomy makes people cry

[jrueships]

A CINDERBLOCK IS WHAT I LIKE TO SEE!! YETTHUR 🤓‼️‼️

jaren looking like he says meep

[bedforddanes75]

keep seeing that person who is OBSESSED with posture and its actually pissing me off

[monstersflashlight]

To kill a king, to fuck a dragon (Day 8/8 of 10k followers event)

A/N: Hi there people! I’m so, so glad that all of you took time to read all the stories I post, especially these past 8 stories that had been super exploratory for me. I think I did good enough, at least y’all seemed to like it. For this last one I added a bit more plot than usual, this is a tiny bit longer and I think the story is really good. I hope y’all love it as much as I do. Also, and once again, I want to thank ALL OF YOU for following this little corner of the internet and being so supportive and great, special thanks to all my patrons to make my life a little bit easier <3, this has been a blast so far and I hop y’all keep reading, hopefully this account is just the beginning of a much longer exploration of monsterfuckery for us all. (PS: If someone catches the very subtle Grey’s anatomy reference please let me know so we can be friends)

Dragon x fem!reader || size kink, slow-burn (kinda), sex with feelings, magic saliva, spit on pussy, multiple orgasms, overstimulation || tw: mentions of murder

You enter the cave and are surprised to find a door, a normal human door caved into the rock. It looks like a house, a house on the rock, but still normal. What the fuck? Your hopes and dreams of finding the dragon slowly disappear, your eyes teary.

Someone chooses that moment to speak behind you: “Who are you?” You turn around so fast you fall to the ground with a scream. The stranger looks at you like you are a bug he needs to squeeze, and you feel a tear running down your cheek. Fuck. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry even if there wasn’t a dragon. “Again: who are you?” His tone is harsh and you want to cry even more, but you bit your tongue.

“I- I came to find the dragon,” you confess, swallowing around the knot in your throat.

He looks at you like you are a joke, not even trying to help you to your feet. “What dragon?” He asks, his tone amused.

You get up and look at him, trying to look as serious as you can when you say: “They- They told me there was a dragon here.” You fail.

He chuckles, inspecting you up and down, his eyes zeroing on the few tears that escaped your eyes. “No dragons, just me,” he finally answers, his tone a lot softer than before.

“Uh-oh… Sorry. I’ll be on my way, then.” You try to get pass him, sniffling as you do so, trying really hard to get out before you start sobbing.

He sighs, and adds: “do you want some tea?” He offers you his hand, and weirdly enough, you don’t feel threatened or scared, you feel calm around him.

“Really?” You don’t want to sound too hopeful but you are thirsty and tired and you want to cry because there is no dragon and you basically lost hope of everything.

“Yeah, come on.” He motions you to follow him inside the rock house, and you are surprised about how cozy and homey it feels inside, like out of a fairy-tale kind of thing.

He makes some tea as you lean against the door frame of the kitchen, trying to look around as much as possible without looking too snoopy about it. Not that he seems to care that you are curious about everything, he just looks at you every once in a while like making sure you are still there.

“Why were you looking for a dragon?” He asks when he sets the tea cup on the table in front of you. A similar one in front of him. You sit and start sipping on the best tea you’ve ever had.

You sip the tea for a couple seconds, trying to decide if you can trust him, at the end you decide why not, your life is already ruined. “To kill the king,” you say. He chokes on the tea he’s drinking, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop from giggling.

“What?” He asks again when he recovers, his face red from the coughing.

“To kill the king,” you repeat. He still looks stunned so you give him more context: “I- I was bought when I was in the womb. My parents promised me to him in exchange for gold, and the day we marry is approaching. I don’t want to do it, he’s a foul man, and I didn’t choose this. I overheard some servants talking about the dragon in the mountains, and I though… I thought they would help me.” You try not to sound too bitter about it, but you can’t keep the despair out of your voice.

He looks at you like you are suddenly the most interesting specimen of a bug. “You escaped the castle and came here?”

“Yes,” you answer truthfully. There was a lot more implied in that simple question. You escaped, but not only that, they are probably looking for you and the king would probably kill those guards you ran away from. You try not to be too sad about them, they were cruel with you, laughing at you every time you passed, talking about how the king got a new hot wife.

“Are they still looking for you?” He asks, a lot smarter than you give him credit for.

“Probably.” It’s the truth but it still carries a lot of pressure as you say it. You understand though, you know it’s not his problem and you shouldn’t even be there. You’d find another way to escape the king. “I’ll be out of your hair, I promise. You didn’t sing up for any of this.” You realize the sun is setting in the horizon and you don’t know if you could find your way back to the village. Fuck. “I need to go. The village is a long journey from here,” you try not to sound scared, but an edge of fear permeates your voice.

He surprises you by saying: “Stay. I have a guest bedroom and there’s no way you could get back to the village if it’s this dark.”

You want to say no, to refuse, that’s improper, but the idea of going back to that golden prison is enough to make you say: “I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” It’s a promise you do to him, but also to yourself. That man showed you more caress that anyone in your life, and you didn’t want to cause him unnecessary trouble. You’ll leave in the morning.

Problem is… You never do.

The next day he prepares breakfast, and insists on showing you around his house. It’s so beautiful you are mesmerized. His garden especially. It’s so colorful and big and calm…. You feel an instant connection to the earth, and to him. He’s so easy to be around, he treats you so differently like what you are used to. And you like it. You like it so much that you get distracted until the sun is setting once again. And he never tells you to leave.

And days pass. One day turns into another, and you… never leave. You know someday they will come back for you. You know you can’t run away from your problems. But right there, in the side of the mountain with that nice man that took you in… It feels possible to run away. It feels possible to avoid the awful destiny that was set for you before you were even born.

He teaches you to cook, to take care of plants, to polish wood… He’s like a handyman that can do all, and you are his new apprentice, even though he insists on doing all the heavy lifting. But on top of that, he just… amazing. He takes care of you, but also you two argue about stupid stuff until you are red faced and you want to hit him, just to end up laughing when he tells you a stupid joke. You have the most fun you had in ages with him.

Until one day all shifts (pun intended).

You are laying around under the tree as he does some gardening. He wouldn’t let you near the roses in case you got hurt. “I have something to tell you,” he breaks the silence.

“What?” You ask, looking directly at him, a spark of something unknown raising inside of you, like bugs in your stomach, crawling around every time you set your eyes on him, on his beautiful smile.

He looks at you intently and says the most ominous thing: “I- I think it’s better if I show you, actually.”

“Show me what? Why do you sound so serious?” You try to joke, but it doesn’t land because he still looks at you with a poker face.

He looks worried, apprehension settling on his features. “Just… Wait until I’m done to say anything, please?” His tone is more than pleading, is more like he’s begging you to understand, and you don’t know what could possibly be so bad.

“Okay…” You tell him, anxiety spiking.

And then he turns. Literally. His body contorts and cracks, and there’s a bunch of things happening at once, and before you realize, there’s a dragon in front of you. A full on real dragon. What? He’s majestic, as big as a house and skin covered in the most precious scales. He looks like a work of art… you are mesmerized.

“You said there was no dragon!” It’s the first thing out of your mouth, an edge of hysterics creeping in your tone.

You laugh then. You laugh so hard and so much you have tears rolling down your eyes. He changes back, and tries really hard to cover his manhood with his hands, failing and making you laugh even harder.

“You are a dragon,” you say when your laughter dies down.

“I am,” he says simply, approaching you slowly until he’s right in front of you. “And I will kill the king for you,” he adds.

There’s no point in asking why he didn’t tell you sooner, you understand why. Why would he? Why would he trust his deepest secret to you? But him showing you now? It meant more than the world, it made you forget about everything and anything chasing you down. It makes you happy. He makes you happy.

“No. I don’t care about the king. I just… I love you. I think what I feel is love, I never felt like this before.” You tell him, heat creeping up your cheeks. He looks at you like he’s surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that at all. “Do you feel it, too?” You ask shyly, your hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat faster and faster.

“Ye- yes. I love you, too.” His confession is followed by his hands cupping your face, so soft and tender, you feel a tear running down your cheek as he kisses you for the first time.

You should have known better than to think your life could be so perfect.

You don’t hear them before you are captured. At least four soldiers appear at the edge of the garden and catch you before you can scream. You think about him, about your dragon, and lament how confused he will be when he returns and you aren’t there. You worry he would think you abandoned him… But you can’t do anything as they take you away from the only place you felt like home.

They don’t even wait a whole day before they are dressing you and pampering you in the best silks and makeups. Nobody says anything as you silently cry during all the process. The servants looking worried but not arguing with anyone, three guards at the door of every chamber you enter.

You are caged once again.

You walk to the aisle in between a crowded place full of people who don’t like you, nor the king for the matter. They just want to appraise his old self to gain some benefits, the same as your parents did even before you were born. He looks like a nightmare standing in front of the altar, and you want to run, to run far away, back into your dragon’s arms. But you can’t, guards all around the open garden the ceremony is taking place in. You stand before your soon to be husband and have to swallow back the tears and bile, his rancid smell hitting you like a brick.

The minister starts speaking about love and marriage, and you cry during all his speech. You dream of being far away from there, as far away as possible. Or at least as close to your dragon as you could.

When you hear the people mumbling around you, you turn around, a shadow obscuring the sun. You look at the sky and sigh, so happy to see him you could cry. Maybe you would cry if you weren’t so shocked that he actually showed up.

He roars as he lands, people running in all directions, hiding in every possible place. “YOU STOLE FROM ME!” He growls, breathing fire to the sky and making people cry out in fear. You look at him in all his glory, fascinated by every inch of his skin.

“We- we saved the queen to be,” the guard’s words are short lived as your dragon looks at him and breathes fire right over his body, instantly burning him to the ground. There’s a chorus of screams and cries again, and you have to bite your tongue to stop from smiling.

“She’s not yours! SHE’S MINE!” You shiver at his words, feeling them so deep inside you think you might combust, butterflies dancing inside your stomach once again.

“You can’t take her! I bought her,” the king’s words don’t help his case at all, your dragon roaring and launching for him.

It all happens so fast, one second he’s there, and the next one the king’s head is rolling onto the ground as everyone screams and runs away. You are shocked to the core, but he doesn’t let you wallow in that. He picks you up and takes flight. You realize he’s being very careful not to pickle you with his claws. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but soon enough you are in a place you know, a place that brings you memories of joy and love… The garden.

As soon as he sets you down, he orders you to: “Go inside.” His tone is harsh, almost a growl.

“No,” you answer, not recoiling, not moving. You approach him more, your hand softly caressing the scales of his chest.

He roars over your head, trying to scare you away: “Go inside, I’m not in my right mind right now, I can’t answer for my actions.” You aren’t scared of him, though. He saved you from your most fearsome nightmare, he’s just the big monster you are in love with.

“No,” you repeat, a big smile playing on your lips when you look up at him.

“Come on, princess… Please.” Him begging in that form does something to you, such a big and scary creature asking you to go inside so he can protect you from himself… You are more sure than anything that you are safe. Safer than you’d be with anyone else. Human or monster.

“No. I want you. I love you.” Your words finally go through him, making his big body shiver, you feel it under your hands, a big shake that leaves you breathless. “Take me, my dragon.” You know adding that isn’t necessary, but you are more than ready to be a bride, to be his bride.

“Don’t joke around,” he growls, grabbing your body with his big clawed hand and positioning you to look straight into his yes, his big dragon head so beautiful you have to reach out and touch him. He scrunches his nose, making you giggle.

“Make me fully yours,” you say again.

His responding growl is so loud it makes the earth vibrate under your feet. You shiver in anticipation. He tears your wedding dress of your body, wrapping his wings around you to create a bubble, so you won’t feel a single spark of cold in your human skin.

Your wedding dress is torn off your body as he launches for your body, your naked form shivering at the cold temperature around you, but he solves that easily. He wraps his wings around your body getting you close to his much warmer scaled body. You sigh happily.

He lets you down onto the ground and you look up at him, completely vulnerable. “Fuck me. Claim me. Love me.” You lower yourself to the ground, your upper body to the ground, your ass up. You know what you must look like: an offering, a sacrifice. And you are okay with that. You are okay being his.

“You sure?” He asks again, always the gentleman, always worried about you. You are more sure of this that you were about anything else ever.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant as his claw proves your entrance. You look around in time to see him biting on his fingers, two seconds later he’s claw-less and his now not-dangerous fingers enter you. You cry out and bury your face on the mossy ground, his chuckle making you flush all over.

He plays with your pussy for what feels like an eternity, making you come twice before he starts stretching you fully. He gets to three fingers, way bigger than anything you tried before, and you can’t stop moaning.

You come again as he spits on your pussy, the sensation so filthy and so good you scream and fall over the edge again. You feel tingly all over after that, your pussy relenting under his ministrations and somehow widening further, accommodating one more of his fingers. “My saliva has magic in it,” he explains, his tone amused as he keeps finger fucking you. You don’t know if you can come again, you didn’t even know that much pleasure was possible.

“Come on, come on, please,” doesn’t matter how much you beg, he doesn’t relent.

He starts scissoring his big fingers inside of you, stretching you impossibly wide, and you squirm under him, a pleasure so big you don’t know how to deal with it, your body pliant under his actions, your brain completely void of thoughts. And then he stops and you curse him so loud he starts to laugh, moving your body and making you squirm under him. He grabs your hips to stop you from moving and you feel the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He enters you slowly, so slowly. You want to scream, but your brain is frozen with the over-sensitivity of his dick inside of you. He can’t fit inside, there’s no way, he’s probably just aiming for a third of his length, but right now, with just the tip inside, you feel like you are about to burst. You reach down and rub your clit, unlocking something inside of you and crying out so loudly he roars as your orgasm makes your pussy constrict around him. He pushes in a bit more, and you keep coming.

From that point on, it’s all a blur of sensations and emotions, so much pleasure you are blind to the world around you. His dick is barely inside, but it seems to be enough for him, and more than enough for you. You feel like he’s going to split you in two in the most amazing way. He feels so big inside of you that you think you might die if he keeps rubbing against all your special spots at once. And if you do… You’d die happy.

“Take me. Take all of me,” that’s all the heads up you get before he’s filling you, one last thrust inside before his hot seed floods your insides. It propels you over the edge one last time, the world fading into blackness.

You pass out.

When you come back to your senses, you are laying on a bed and there’s a warm body behind you. You sigh happily as he kisses your forehead and makes sure you are comfortable and warm. You feel such intense love for him in that moment, that you have to turn around and try how well it would feel to fit his human dick inside of you (this time all of him).

He feels perfect.

[darkbluekies]

The OCs search history <3

Silas:

"How to take care of ptsd in partner"

"How to make someone stop crying"

"How to make your partner forgive you"

"Best restaurant"

"Dark web"

"Diamond ring/neckace/earrings/bracelet"

"Best steak"

"How to stop people from gawking at my partner"

"Protein powder"

"Best soap to wash away blood from skin"

"Best detergent to wash away blood from clothes"

"Best cleaning supplies to wash away blood from walls"

"Best spray to keep blood smell away"

"Five star restaurant booking"

"Why are my clothes thrown out the window?"

Dr Kry:

"Morphine"

"Book series without explicit scenes"

"Healthy recipes"

"How to frame someone for murder"

"Am I secretely perverted"

"Forged signatures without watermark"

"Protein shakes"

"What happens if you mix poision with alcohol"

"Puzzles"

"PG-13 rated movies without angst or horror"

"Plushies"

"Needles"

"How to become an author?"

"How to know if your strict childhood has had any impact on your mental health"

"How to get over your phobia for germs?"

"Strong caffeine drinks"

King Edmund (let's pretend he has internet for a hot minute):

"Is it really dictatorship if I let people complain"

"Ptsd test"

"Why doesn't my wife talk to me?"

"Nightmare analysis"

"How to cheer up an angry wife"

"Can a queen rule over a king?"

"How much alcohol can you drink before you get knocked out?"

"Beatiful dresses for a queen"

"Jewelry for a queen"

"Are public executions a good fear tactic?"

"How do women's anatomy work?"

"Can you punish theft by death?"

"Can you cook rats?"

"Why are little kids scared of me?"

Jerry:

"Is drinkable bleach a thing????"

"What to do if your s/o is a fucking loser"

"Is saying 'you're an idiot' synonyms for 'i love you'?"

"Guns"

"Knives"

"Sexy outfits that doesn't make me look like a fucking clown"

"How to ask someone out on a date without sounding like a loser"

"Impressive date ideas"

"Alcohol that will make me forget today, yesterday, tomorrow and a week forward"

"Spare parts to motorcycle"

"Why am I so fucking cool?????"

"Why am I so fucking miserable?????"

"How to hug your s/o without it being cringe"

"How to make your motorcycle go much faster?"

"Boxing gloves"

"40 boxes of *your favorite snack*"

Hedwig:

"Aestethic wedding ideas"

"Is baby trapping illegal?"

"Is nepotism really that bad?"

"How to guilt trip someone"

"Utterly obsessed with my partner"

"How to be a good kisser"

"Dark web"

"Buy hitmen"

"How to bankruptcy someone"

"How to impress your partners parents"

"Best flowers for dates"

"Best hotel resorts for couples"

"Can you become a super model without school grades"

"Love poems"

"Poison"

"*your adress*"

"Best perfumes to seduce someone"

"*your instagram*"

"*your name*"

"How do I know if I'm blocked on social media"

[kaiijo]

FRIENDS TO LOVERS — [KNB]

characters: aomine daiki, midorima shintarou, hanamiya makoto content: gn! reader, reader has implied tieable hair in midorima’s, toxicity (it’s hanamiya, no one is surprised) notes: scenarios inspired by prompt list here

aomine daiki ✶

aomine yawns again as he reclines against your pillows, sitting up only to peer at you. you’re working on homework that’s due in a couple of days, headphones covering your ears. you promised that you’ll order in food and play super smash bros with him when you finished, but it’s nearing eight and you’re still hunched over a problem set.

aomine groans loudly, “are you even close to being done?”

you move one headphone cup off. “i would be closer if you didn’t interrupt me every ten minutes.”

“i didn’t ask to hang out just to sit around.”

you roll your eyes. “you can go if you want, daiki.”

he sits up fully now, moving to the edge of your bed. “why’re you even doing this? s’not due ‘til friday.”

“some of us want to be good students.” you slide your headphones back on and turn back to scribbling out complicated equations on paper.

a couple of minutes pass again and instead of asking you anything, aomine stands up and shuffles behind you, reaching around and snatching the paper from underneath you. “hey!” you protest, shooting up from your seat and tearing off your headphones. “give it back, daiki.”

“no, you said you’d be done, like, two hours ago.”

“i swear i’m almost done!” you make a lunge for it and aomine just holds it above his head, his long arm adding to his already-massive height.

“no.” he smirks at the way your eyes furrow and your cheeks puff out. your head tilts to the left, and he knows that you’re thinking. he’s sure you’re going to try and jump of it again, so as a show, he stretches up further, the hem of his shirt lifting slightly. he swears he catches your eyes flickering down and something in his body sings a song of triumph and satisfaction at the motion. he can’t say why.

what you do next though is nothing that he expects. you stand on your toes, rest your hands delicately on his shoulders, and gaze up at him through your lashes. he startles; there’s something so… heated about your expression, about those half-lidded eyes.

“daiki,” you say softly. it’s almost hypnotic, the way you say his name, and he’s watching you with one raised eyebrow. the tips of his ears feel like they’re on fire.

he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing as his arm lowers, heading for the dip of your waist. he only snaps out of it at your victorious cry. “ha!” you take advantage of his still half-dazed state and push him firmly out of your bedroom door, closing it. the lock clicks into place and he hears you call on the other side, “one more problem, daiki, i promise. be a dear and set up smash in the living room?”

he walks down your hall automatically, the fire-like feeling spreading to his neck.

midorima shintarou ✶

takao holds up a porcelain statue of a cat. “what about this?’

“takao, what about that screams ‘midorima shintarou?’��

takao shrugs. “i don’t know, maybe it’ll be december 25th’s lucky item. does oha asa put out horoscopes ahead of time?”

“no, that’s why he listens every morning when it airs,” you reply, setting down a teapot from a bigger set. you thank the tired-looking cashier, who just waves drowsily as you two exit the shop.

the two of you have been shopping all day for midorima’s christmas present, wandering all over japan and into various tchotchke stores to look. he’s a notoriously hard person to please, especially with gifts, and neither of you want a repeat of the ‘grey’s anatomy incident’ where four people got midorima the same book last holiday season when he announced his intention to go to medical school. nor do any of you want to get that look from him that struggles to look somewhat grateful while being very, very obviously displeased.

“we’ve been walking all day!” takao whines, clutching his stomach as it lets out an ungodly rumble. you check your watch; you two have been out for at least four hours. you point at a small diner boasting american food. “would you be okay with that?”

“i’d eat you right now if you’d let me.”

you snort, “hard pass. come on.”

the hostess sits you two at a booth and you shrug off your heavy winter coats. you pick up a menu and glance over it, but when you go to ask takao what he’ll be getting and if he wants to split a large order of assorted fries with you, you see he’s not looking at the menu.

you definitely do not like the way takao is eying you right now. “what?” you ask defensively, hands flying to the top of your head to try and pet down at hair you presume has been ruined by your excursion. “do i look bad or something?”

“is that shin-chan’s sweater?”

fuck. you had forgotten about pulling on one of the sweaters midorima left at your house the last time you studied together. it’s insanely soft — a mix of gray wool and cashmere — not to mention extremely cozy and warm. you tried to return it to midorima before but he just pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and huffed, “wear it until you get proper sweaters. no, sweatshirts don’t count.”

you internally groan. you don’t need takao on your ass again about whether or not you’re sure you and midorima aren’t dating or if you like him like that. honestly, the only reason you haven’t given him a certain yes or no is because… you don’t really know yourself.

you don’t have proper time to answer before the bell to the restaurant chimes and you see very recognizable green hair. of all the time and places he has to show up. (well, he did text you this morning that your zodiac sign was the least lucky and to wear a blue watch in order to improve your fortune; you should’ve found the watch.)

“oh! shin-chan!” takao waves him over, giving you a sly look. “we were just talking about—” takao’s stupid hawk-eyes zero in on midorima’s wrist as he tugs off his gloves. he looks way too please with himself as he asks, “shin-chan, is that their hair tie?”

hanamiya makoto ✶

hanamiya steps out of the locker room shower, cracking his knuckles as he makes his way to his locker to dry off and change. he rolls his shoulders, toweling off his hair as he changes back into his school uniform. yamazaki and hara are prattling away, snickering under their breaths about the injuries they inflicted: sprained ankle, a hairline fracture, a minor concussion.

hanamiya doesn’t even turn around as he growls, “can you two shut up?”

to just bug him more, hara pops his gum. loudly. “who pissed in your cereal, captain?”

furihara drones, “you were sloppier today. almost got fouled by the ref.”

hanamiya doesn’t reply, yanking the knot of his tie down furiously. “fuck off.”

hara lets out a low whistle and seto asks, “does this have to do with your little friend? they got a boyfriend, right?”

hanamiya lets out a long breath through his nose and he spins around to face his teammate. “for now,” he says, slamming his locker shut.

“you got a plan, captain?” asks yamazaki as he digs through his duffel bag.

“when do i not?”

———

you greet hanamiya’s mother with a thin smile when she opens the door. her face lights up when she sees you and she pulls you into a warm hug, telling you that hanamiya’s in his bedroom and that you could go right up.

you wonder if she can see the glossy film to your eyes or if she was polite enough not to comment on it.

hanamiya’s sitting at his desk, head propped up on his knuckle. he languidly flips through pages but you know he’s not really reading the material. he’ll get away with it too and get an a anyways, the bastard. he glances at you. “you look like shit.”

usually, you could banter with him. it’s why your friendship works; you have a thicker skin than most and you give just as good as you take, especially when it comes to hanamiya’s sneering, half-joking insults. normally, you would have replied with something like “still better than you,” but instead, your frayed nerves snap and you feels the hot tears start rolling down your cheeks.

hanamiya’s simpering expression sobers up and he sighs heavily, ushering you to sit on the bed. “why’re you crying?”

you sniffle and tell him that the guy you’ve been seeing from your literature class broke up with you. just out of the blue told you that you two wanted different things and you were going to colleges in different areas and that wouldn’t work and he was sorry and… that’s all you gleaned because his words were so rushed as he scurried off as fast as he could.

hanamiya’s brow furrows sympathetically and he draws you into a hug, saying, “i told you i didn’t like that guy. fuck him.”

you sink into his arms. “yeah,” you mutter, “fuck him.”

as you relax against him, hanamiya can’t help but smirk to himself in satisfaction. someone who runs off after a little confrontation doesn’t deserve anything from you.

[copinghex]

Blood hands | T.S

Summary: After killing someone for the first time, Tommy's wife has to deal with the emotional consequences of it. Luckily, he's there to look after her.

She was terrible in biology, never got more than a B, it didn't matter how hard she studied. Every exam period she went to the tiny, dusty Birmingham's library and took notes from the anatomy books. Nothing ever changed.

Analyzing the drawings, she tried to make sense out of them, the muscles, joints and bones, wrapped together in the masterwork of the human body. It just didn't make sense to her, the subject simply wouldn't get into her brain and honestly, it disgusted her too. She had no wish to see beneath someone's skin, aware the reality was much more bloodier and morbid than the books.

Less than ten years later, she did, but unlike she imagined, the bile didn't rise to her throat expressing the deep disgust. Her eyes opened widely, unable to move from the mess of what once must've been a beautiful body.

The curly golden locks hid the agent's frightened looks, gladly, because the murderer in the train station wouldn't bear to face the lack of life in her blue eyes. 

Blood ran down her nose, her hands shook and her left eye stung. The woman who a few ago held her in disadvantage, sticking a sharp nail into her orb, was reduced to nothing by the train's velocity. A push was all it took.

Then, her trance was interrupted by the sound of steps, she ran away like a child avoiding punishment, not many people dared to fuck with a gangster's fiancée, but the ones who did certainly would make her look much worse in the train tracks.

As she headed home, carrying her heels in hand so she could walk faster, another haunting thought crept into her mind, Tommy, the reason why she had blood in her hands. She was sure he'd be dead when she got home, with a bullet Billy Kimber would've put in his brain.

For a moment she considered not going anywhere, simply sitting down on someone's pavement so she wouldn't have to deal with anything. 

If she only could, she'd ask God to allow her man to be alive when she got home, she couldn't, asking Him to save a man like Tommy felt like blasphemy or a joke of poor taste. There was no salvation for the Small Heath's devil, at least not from divine sources.

Swallowing the bitter taste of uncertainty, she walked home with a heavy heart. However, much for her surprise, Tommy stood at the front door, his eyes slightly widened at her awful state. Her throat burnt with the urge to cry as she dropped her heels and wrapped her arms around him, he winced in pain from the bullet hole in his chest, nevertheless, allowed her to hold him.

His name poured from her lips in quiet, relieved whispers. His attentive eyes were quick to capture every irregularity in her figure, bruised knuckles, teary eyes and bare foot. He had never seen her so broken.

"I was coming to pick you up," he explained, "what happened? Where were you?" 

Lifting her head from his shoulder, her still shaky hands hesitated in cupping his cheeks, resting on his shoulders instead. She negatively nodded and peeked at the wound under his coat.

"You're alive, that's all that matters," 

"What happened to you?" he insisted.

"Tommy, please," she breathed out, caressing the length of his arms, "not now, not fucking now," 

His jaw tightened as he fought the urge of arguing, he hated to have things hidden from him, but knowing he'd eventually find out anyway, he obliged to her wish.

Gently, his thumb met the eyelid of her wounded eye, "That's fucking bad," 

"I'll go to the pharmacy tomorrow, they'll give me something to get it better," she drawled, "now, tell me what happened," 

"...Danny whizz-bang is dead," was all Tommy deemed as relevant, guilt weighted heavily on the sergeant's voice, he was responsible for his soldiers' safety and he had failed Danny badly.

"Oh, darling," she muttered, "I'm so sorry," 

Looking away from her merciful eyes, he slightly nodded. Reaching for a cigarette from his silvery pack before saying, "We're at the Garrison now," 

"I'm not up for it, you can go back if you want," with a quick brush on his cheek, she entered home and in a quick decision, Tommy followed after, "I'll take a bath, then take a look at your bandages, who took the bullet out?" 

"Jeremiah," he drawled.

She nodded, glad someone gentle as the preacher looked after her husband when she wasn't able to. Heading to the bathroom, she only hoped the hot water would wash away the weight on her shoulders.

-

Rubbing her hands together, she watched the quiet street through the window, every now and then a lonely citizen walked past and this was all keeping her from dissociating.

The bath wasn't of great help, the relaxation it brought also lowered the adrenaline, making her muscles and wounds ache. A knot tightened on her throat as she tried to convince herself everything was fine. Everything was fine, Tommy was alive, no one was after them anymore, nothing else mattered, nothing.

The door suddenly opened, making her jump. Tommy entered the bedroom with a towel on his shoulder, his bare torso was still wet from his bath and he moved slowly, careful to not get his injury bleeding.

Attentively, she noticed his mind was far away from there, a pout decorated his lips and his brow was tense. Eager to sooth his worries, she whistled the stereotypical catcalling sound. 

"Hello, handsome," she weakly smiled.

Lifting his eyes, a nearly nonexistent smile crept into his face, "Quit that," 

She walked to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, "Do you come here often?" 

"In my bedroom?" he chuckled, "Yeah, quite often," 

She took advantage of his momentarily good humor to take a look at his wound. Before she could avoid it her eyes got filled with tears, she had nearly lost him today, not all the killing she was able to commit would've brought him back if she'd done so, he'd be gone, simple as that.

"D'you want to tell me what happened now?" Tommy cupped her face, trying to distract her.

"...I love you, Tom," was all she was able to mutter.

"I know, and I love you," 

Slightly nodding, she sighed, "What now?" 

"Well, I-" he hesitated, "I thought of opening a club in London," 

"About Danny," she sat at the end of the bed, "what about his family?" 

"We'll help them, financially," Tommy explained.

"Get his children a job?" 

"No, no more business for the Owens," he sighed, "they'll be normal, his children will never know why he died," 

Hearing his words, her throat tightened, a heavy feeling settled in her chest. Did the woman she killed had children? When she first got into the Garrison Tommy found out she did, but that was before they ever suspected she was a copper, how much of everything she said was lies? How would her child react to knowing its mother was dead on train tracks? 

Tommy watched his fiancée's state with pity in his eyes, he hated her stubbornness at the same time he was well aware of how much they were alike. Both closed off before trouble, hating to burden the other with issues they deemed personal. 

"You know, eventually you'll have to tell me what happened,"

Her watery eyes met his and she pulled him to stand between her legs, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on the soft skin of his stomach.

Gently, he petted her hair away from her face and his rough fingers on her face brought some relief, still, she felt like a wounded beast. A wounded beast is still a beast and she'd forever be a murderer regardless of Tommy's acceptance.

"Tell me, eh?" he whispered.

"Tommy, I-" before she could answer, three knocks on the door interrupted.

Arthur entered the bedroom with a worried expression, "Tommy, hm, I just wanted to tell you we found the body of that barmaid in the train tracks, Johnny Dogs wants to know if he should get rid of it," 

She froze, eyes widened at the news, she was so deep into her own guilt she didn't even think about the further consequences.

Tommy switched a look between her and his brother, with a slight nod, he ordered, "Get rid of it," 

Small Heath had another murderer to call resident, there was no way of hiding it now.

[boiohboii]

The people's sweethearts

Chapter 1

(Verstappen!reader x tom holland x zendaya)

Soulmate au

YN Verstappen had been through hell, by her own father, for something she didn't even ask for. She grew up learning that she should hate what was given to her, after all it was the reason her father was always angry with her. So what should she do when the one thing she learned to hate is the one thing that brings her love, safe and comfort that not even her older brother can compare.

WARNING: not proof read, Jos Verstappen (worsned like 10 times for this fic) poly relationship, derogatory terms by father, abusive father. If I missed anything else please let me know

Masterlist

Max and Yn Verstappen are close, really close, some would even say they are too close for being siblings, after all it's not usual for an 18 year old to go live with her older brother in a country 2 hours away (by plane) from her university rather than just to rent something close by.

Everyone had very harsh words to say about the pair of siblings, some still do but these are just people who hate max verstappen and they know nothing angers him more than someone insulting his baby sister, everyone was very vocal about how strange, weird and abnormal it is for 2 grown siblings to live together.

Everyone thought that the Verstappen siblings would change their living arrangements after Max and Kelly found each other, only to be surprised by Max buying a bigger penthouse that'd be enough for all 4 of them.

Everyone was negative about the prospect of the redbull formula one driver being followed around by his little sister until the release of The Anatomy of A Champion came out.

When the producers of the show pitched in the idea of talking to yn, max had refused, he wanted his sister nowhere near any of these vultures knowing how bad it can, and most probably will, get. Max was aware from a very young age that what his dad was constantly saying and doing to him and his sister wasn't normal, whenever he was at a race he would see the other boys' dad's hugging them and telling them they did a good job even if they didn't get first place, he would see how other's would have their father waiting for them with water and towels, and most importantly he would see how other dad's had their daughter on their shoulder making the other little girls laugh; Why does dad only make yn cry?

He remembers it so clearly, the way his father hit his sister because of something out of her control, something that she didn't even ask for, something that was thrown at her, it was the day his sister got her soulmark.

Everyone had a soulmark that appeared on their 5th birthday and today was yn's which made jos take her to the soul doctor. Soulmarks were complicated, which is why soul doctors were important, they let you know more about your mark and the bond that's to form between you and your other half.

"Wow young lady, you'll have twice the amount of love it seems."

"What?"

Max knew his father's tone, he know that he's angry and he unconsciously held onto yn's hand, hoping that his father wouldn't take his anger out on her.

"Well Mr Verstappen you see these lines," the doctor gently held up yn's wrist, turning it over to show off her newly given mark "that's an indicator of one soulmate, I'd say he is 3 or 4 years older than her given the shade of the mark, while this other lines that are in a circular shape indicate the other soulmate, he seems to also be around 3 or 4 years older as well. It looks like the mark that indicates young miss yn here is the moon, with how the moon is in the center I would say that yn would be the last in the group meaning that her two other soulmates will meet each other before they meet her."

Jos was angry throughout their drive home, he had already smacked yn into the car while rushing her to get in and as soon as they were in the car he hit her across the head, his arms tall enough to reach the young girl in the backseat. That was the first time max heard these words that would be so easy to recite within a few weeks.

"Two soulmates? Why couldn't you just be normal, why do you have to be such a slut?"

The ride back home was one of the worst max and yn had ever expirenced.

"Two soulmates, ridiculous.They're not even going to want you! They'd meet each other before they even know you!! At least if you turn out to be good for nothing I can just pimp you out on the street, maybe then you'd be useful, and it's not like your soulmates will even like you or want you. Unlovable whore."

"So," the interviewer started as Sophie Kumpen sat on a white sofa in Max's home in Monaco "how is your relationship with your youngest?"

"It's not as close as I'd want it to be," the mother of three confessed as she looked into the camera "yn is a very sweet girl, she had been through a lot. When Jos and I divorced she wasn't really aware of what was going on, she was too young to understand, and as she grew older all she could see was Max. He had been the one to take care of her: i remember once when Max was around ten years old he called me up, asking me how to make a soup because yn was sick and jos was out god knows where.

Max and YN were and are always there for each other, and I don't think that will ever change. I'm sure everyone thought their relationship will sort of tweak a bit when Max and Kelly met each other, but I don't think Max will ever allow that and it's not like Kelly even tried to change their relationship, she was the one who was apartment hunting for all of them while Max was racing and Yn was back in England for her university." 

"Do you think yn is putting in the effort to be there for Max?"

"Oh definitely, I mean studying mechanical engineering along with aerospace engineering at one of the top universities in the world is enough proof. Her whole life revolves around Max and I don't think it's a bad thing. Max had been her everything, he's the one she always goes to cause he is all she knows. When she was deciding what to do right after high-school all she said was that she will choose the majors that'll help her get an internship at formula one so that she'd be there with Max for the rest of his races, however long he wants to be there."

"Do you know what happened between Jos, Max and Yn? Don't you think it's weird that once Max turned 18 he asked Christian Horner to ban his father from the paddock? And to help him have yn with him as much as possible?"

"I'm not really going to go into the details of it, but Jos has done a lot of damage, especially to yn. It's not something I can talk about, not that I even want to, but Jos was a terrible husband and a wose father, I'm insanely glad that yn and max turned out as good and well as they are. Seeing them so close is not something that's surprising me given what Jos did to them, to yn" Sophie's voice broke as a few tears escaped her eyes "sorry, it's just, what she had to go through, it's traumatic and I'm happy that she had Max with her through it all. It fills my heart with joy seeing the little family Max and Yn formed with Kelly and Penelope"

ch. II

[soap-ify]

nsfw below , mdni.

YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG | simon 'ghost' riley x reader.

04 — so when you leave me, i should die.

chapter summary — you go over to simon's place again.

tags / cw — reader has anxiety, reader has a panic attack, angst, tiny glimpse of reader's past though it won't really ever be explained (up to your imagination), self deprecating thoughts, lack of communication, some implied suicidal thoughts, unhealthy thoughts, situationship and codependency, nsfw, no foreplay, p in v, use of safeword, fluff, like wow finally, hurt/comfort, implied aftercare. [4.5k words]

☆ reader written to have afab anatomy but is referred to with gender neutral terms.

masterlist | ao3 | prev | next

Your week couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Seated inside a tiny stall in the staff’s restroom with a hand clasped on your mouth to somehow lower the sounds of your shaky gasps — you almost wished that you had taken the day off.

Today had been going alright, you were serving people their orders normally in the cafe. Sweet and simple. You didn’t know where it all went wrong — was it the way the cafe seemed too loud today? The way you could somehow hear every whisper and sound? You hated that this had gotten so repititive, it made your skin crawl and throat uncomfortably tighten, eyes frantically looking around. You hated it, it was getting too much. Everything was getting too much.

All you could do was mumble some shaky excuses to your co-workers before hiding in the restroom, and here you were now.

Fucking stop crying, your raging mind tried to formulate while you were busy trying to ground yourself, leg uncomfortably bouncing while tears streamed down your cheeks — an useless attempt at cleaning your ruined state. Breathe in, breathe out. One hand was tightly tugging your chest, as if trying to rip your heart out and throw it across the room just so it could give you a damn break.

Your stomach felt so sick, ears ringing while your whimpers and hics echoed in the thankfully empty restroom. Though someone just passing by the door could probably hear your miserable cries, deciding not to help at all. Not that you’d want any help, it made you feel even more sick.

Look around. Look at the objects. This was nothing new to you. You had always done it alone, and you could do it again. Your blurred vision made it harder to see, your teary eyes looking around the stall and naming everything you could find — the toilet paper, the door, the little crack beneath the door and… a smudge of lipstick at the wall?

Slowly. breathe in, breathe out. You squeezed your eyes shut, mumbling quiet muffled instructions to yourself that you could barely remember in this state while your hands tightly clutched onto your arms, hugging yourself desperately and taking deep breaths.

You could do this.

Your manager had let you leave the work early after seeing your distraught state despite you having tried your best to hide it. Those pitied stares she threw at your direction made you feel nothing but sickening guilt that was cheekily comfortable in your throat, making you feel so damn incompetent for always creating a problem here and there.

Though you had to admit that you were way too at edge this week, and you hated that you knew exactly why. It had been four days since you last contacted Simon, since that happened. You weren’t being bitter or distant, no. You just didn’t know what to make up of everything at this point.

“You don’t ever shut up, do you?”

“I just want to sleep. I don’t need you here.”

His words had been swirling inside your head ever since that day, making you feel more and more melancholic. And an ugly part of you was mad at the fact that he had said it so nonchalantly — you wished that he had at least shown some anger or yelled at you. Shout and shove the idea in your head that he didn’t need you anymore.

But he didn’t. Were you so used to your parents’ shouts and harsh demands that you could barely think without them anymore? Probably. You knew you didn’t need their cruelly stated orders to function properly, but that’s how your body was trained with that from the beginning, wasn’t it?

The way Simon had always managed to keep himself reserved without just lashing out was hauntingly beautiful at times — the walls around him so high and mighty that you doubt that anyone would be brave enough to climb up the rocky bumps, no matter how bruised they may get.

And that’s what Simon was, wasn’t he? An undiscovered, tall and dangerous mountain. Too isolated to be found, too hard to be climbed. Alone in this miserable world.

It was as if that last interaction with him had somehow made you understand him a bit more. Despite your confused and depressed state during that, you could almost see the subtle and barely visible glint in his eyes that was almost familiar to yours when you were internally panicking.

Oh well, maybe you were just overthinking — reading too much into the interactions to somehow still keep the hope that you could be the brave knight that’d break the walls and save him. But save him from what?

Weakly stumbling out of the exit with your legs feeling somewhat numb, you decided to go home straightaway and find some new show to start, or maybe a movie — anything to keep your mind off of everything that was going downhill lately.

It wasn’t that easy, really. Even when you had managed to scurry into your apartment and change into some comfortable pajamas before sitting on your bed, your laptop placed on your lap as you watched a movie; all you could feel was the pain weighing on your heart.

You desperately wanted to contact Simon, hear his voice and just listen to it all day without any second thought. You wished that he’d just ramble your ear off, even if it was somewhat uncharacteristic for him. And you wanted to know if his fever had gone away.

God, you felt like some obsessive freak who just couldn’t leave a person alone. But every day without him caused your anxiety to spike up and the familiar sense of impending heartbreak to unveil itself. If he wanted you both to end your agreement, then at least he’d say something, right?

You missed him badly. You missed the way the tone of his voice would very subtly shift depending on his mood, and missed the way his silent presence would bring you a sense of comfort, just like the rainy weather — cold but comforting nonetheless.

You had your phone in your hand, completely distracted from the movie playing on your laptop, the chat between you and Simon opened. You had been staring at the screen for a few minutes.

And you had been staring at the little typing… appearing and disappearing after every few seconds at the bottom of the screen.

Hey.

Hi, love.

It’s been a while.

You okay?

Simon had been typing, deleting, retyping and deleting the texts over and over again like a madman for the past half hour, his thumbs slightly trembling in agitation.

Something in him screamed at him to stop, that he didn’t deserve to reach out after what he did a few days ago, especially after that. At this point, it was a shock that he hadn’t gotten a reward for saying shit he didn’t mean to.

He was about to give up and put his phone away before a loud ring of the notification pop-up caught him off guard, stopping his action.

You: Hello Si. I hope your health has gotten better.

Oh shit, were you online this whole time? Embarrassment crawled on the back of his neck, though a small relieved smile bloomed on his lips once his eyes read your message repeatedly.

But his smile was quick to fade, his hand shakily putting the phone away before he buried his face in his hands, a muffled groan leaving his lips. Why the fuck were you texting him? You were supposed to be angry at him, be rightfully mad and even block him. But here you were, actually reaching out to the wild dog caged for a damn reason.

Plus he was sure that you saw the perfume on the couch. It was too much, it was all just too much. You probably saw it. He was horrible. It wasn’t cheating, it wasn’t anything, but he felt as if he had betrayed himself and you. He was so quick to throw that damn little bottle away when he saw it laying on the couch once you were gone, a poor attempt to forget about that whole ordeal.

He felt sick to the stomach, the urge to throw up too tempting. Good job, Simon. He rubbed his exhausted eyes with his fingers, clicking his tongue before grabbing his phone once more.

You were so sweet, so sickeningly sweet that he just wanted to devour you in order to please his sweet tooth. But at the same time, he wanted to keep you far away from his ruined self.

After all, what more could a stray dog do other than messing everything up?

At times like these, he wished that he still had his mother to give him some advice. Years without her had made everything about her blurry in his head, but he could still vaguely remember the warmth of her embrace and the welcoming scent of the meal cooked by her very hands. He could remember Tommy, and the house they lived in, and—

And him. It all returned back to him, all of Simon’s thought processes always ending back to his father.

Simon was his father’s son after all, his blood. Was he him though?

Fucking hell. He tried to shake these thoughts away and focused back on replying to you.

Simon: You should come over.

If you want to.

God forbid he ever tries to have a proper conversation.

“I swear I am fine.”

Simon’s soft grumbles were not affecting you at all, your hand gently pressing against the bare skin of his neck to check his temperature, brows knitted in concentration.

“Just checking.” You mumbled sheepishly, slowly pulling away.

He could see the vivid signs of exhaustion etched onto your pretty face — dark circles adorning your under eyes and your smile all struggled. He knew it was all his doing, he was the one who made you leave all broken the other day. Apologies stood right at the tip of his tongue, but his throat would constrict as soon as he’d attempt at doing something, anything to show you that he knew how much he fucked up.

You had just arrived at his flat a few minutes ago, and the fact that you instantly started to check on his health made his heart ache horribly — both in a good and bad way. Why must you be so sweet to him? Why must he always bite the hand that is willing to show affection to him?

Both of you sat on the couch, silent and clearly on edge, eyes looking at anything but each other. I am sorry, Simon thought, You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Don’t leave.

He remembers reading somewhere that communication does wonders to one’s relationship with the other, and he knew that person was right. He had given this advice to many others too — such as Johnny who was sobbing drunk on his shoulder once, babbling about some lass who had rejected him or something. Simon was great at giving advice, though he just couldn’t apply those to himself.

“Those meds you gave me the other day helped.” He spoke gruffly, brown eyes slowly drifting over to you, watching your shoulders ease up slightly.

“I’m glad…” You smiled, still not looking at him, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“How was work?” He attempted to keep the conversation going, though once he saw you visibly stiffen up at his question, his brows furrowed a bit in concern. What happened?

“Um…” Your words were caught up in your throat, your hands restlessly clenching onto the bottom of your shirt while your eyes lowered down to the ground, teeth chewing onto your bottom lip. There was no use of lying to him, you knew that, but a part of you was scared that he’d think you were talking too much again.

“It was bad.” You tried to be as vague as possible, not wanting to touch on whatever happened in the restroom.

Simon didn’t reply for a good few seconds, thick silence falling between you two once more. You assumed that he had nothing else to say, or simply didn’t wish to. You hoped that he had nothing to say. The last thing you wanted was to burden him with your problems.

That was until you felt the gentle touch of his calloused fingers on the side of your jaw, his hands ungloved as he gently tilted your face so you’d look at him. Your breath was caught up in your throat, eyes widening just a bit as you looked at him.

This was one of the many moments where you wished you could see past the mask he wore, to see the expression that would be adorning his face. It was a desperate ugly feeling that clung onto your heart, yearning to feel what he was feeling. To see what he was seeing.

Just a situationship, just a fucking situationship. Your mind was tired of reminding this to you over and over again, though something in you told you that it wasn’t just that anymore. And maybe he thought the same way. You didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

“You can talk to me about it, you know.” His words seemed carefully put together, as if afraid to show more care that could possibly break the barriers he had built around him.

Tell me. I need you to tell me.

“Just… Just got too overwhelmed.” You grumbled a bit, your bottom lip a bit bruised from all the harsh chewing you had been unconsciously doing throughout the day. “M’just so tired, Simon…”

Tired of us. Tired of my job. Tired of myself. Tired of you.

Simon’s hand moved down to your shoulder, gently rubbing against the stiff muscles while he leaned forward, tilting his head to the side. “I know… Me too.” He whispered, voice low and quiet.

Me too. That’s the most Simon would ever let himself open up to you — just a vague sentence that could mean anything and everything. Just a line he’d never dare to elaborate, leaving you confused and longing.

“Si…” You breathed out, hands carefully reaching out before holding onto his forearms, leaning closer. Do something. You needed him, needed him to just shut your brain down and make all the nagging go away, to make you forget about reality once again.

Your eyes scanned his masked face desperately, brows a bit furrowed as your fingers tightened around his forearms, almost digging into his tatted skin. Distressed, hungry. You were afraid that if he pulled his hands away, you'd stop breathing. Please hold me, hold me so tight that you are in my skin, just like the way I am holding you.

And Simon saw it all too well. In fact, he saw himself in you at that moment, and it made him have this sudden urge to bash his head against the wall.

“You need me?” He asked in a soft voice, his thumb brushing against your chapped bottom lip and gently pulling it down to part your lips.

“Yes…” You nodded, heat blooming in your cheeks while his thumb continued to caress your lips like that.

It was a sickeningly good feeling to always hear that from you — made him want to shower you with all the affection his wounded heart could muster but at the same time, it made him want to pull himself away from you and just disappear.

His hands gently found their way to your waist, holding you carefully before pulling you onto his lap with ease, propping you upright. He wanted to kiss the exhaustion away, he desperately wanted to. But he couldn’t. So instead, his hands begin to gently knead and massage your lower back, his head pressing against your neck while his fingers slid under your shirt and rub your skin, feeling how tense you were.

“Feel that? You’re so tense, love…” He grumbled softly, feeling the way your hips were trying to grind against him, movements sloppy yet laced with an undying need.

Something in Simon’s head couldn’t help but feel a bit strange about all of this. Just why were you being so needy today? Not that he disliked it, of course, given the way his cock was literally stirring in his pants right now. But he had never seen you like this before, almost initiating everything. What was going in that pretty head of yours?

You, on the other hand, knew too well about how you were behaving right now. You just wanted him to keep going, to keep him with you, to forget about the whole world. Your hands tightly gripped onto his shoulders while you gently rubbed your clothed heat against the bulge forming underneath his pants, trying to push the raging storm of thoughts in your head away. Go away. Just let me have this, please.

Soft shaky breaths and moans left your lips, your body shuddering when you felt Simon’s right hand moving down to your trousers, gently starting to slide them down. You lifted your hips up to accommodate his movements, your body burning up, all unsatiated.

“P-Please, I…” Your words were cut off when you felt his thumb gently press against your puffy folds through the soft fabric of your panties, gently rubbing up and down before feeling your clit gently pressing against his thumb.

“Hush, I know…” He cooed, but went quiet when your hand reached down to grab his wrist, shaking your head.

“No, I need you.” You whined under your breath, panting softly before you hastily started to unbuckle his belt, leaving the hunk of a man underneath you startled. What the fuck?

Something was wrong, he could feel it. You were never the one to turn down foreplay, you always loved it. But he just couldn’t speak out, letting you undo his pants and gently unzip it, tugging his briefs down while his eyes tried to read the look on your face — distressed, needy and… angry?

He swallowed the forming lump on his throat and let his hands gently rest on your thighs, trying to soothe you while rubbing the soft plush, biting back a groan when your hand gently wrapped around his girthy hard cock, your hips lifting up once more as you tried to line it against your entrance.

“Simon…” His name rolled off your tongue as a sweet moan once you felt the tip of his cock gently press against your hole, slowly sliding down on the length. His hands held you by your hips to guide you, being careful as to not push you down completely on it, feeling your gummy walls stretch around his meaty cock. He was glad that you were wet already, the fact that you didn’t let him prepare you beforehand was still eating him up a bit inside.

“Careful now, love.” He chuckled a bit under his breath, leaning back a bit so you could have more space. Your hands found their way back to his shoulders, holding them for balance as you begin to move up and down on his cock, your pace clumsy and urgent, trying to feel him fully inside you as much as you could. Your head pushed back a bit at the stretch, whimpering softly the way his cock pulsated inside you.

Your fingernails begin scratching and digging tightly onto his skin, dragging down so you could properly feel his biceps where his short sleeves ended, scratching there too. It soon dawned onto you that you were not just desperate, but very angry too. Angry at him for making you come back to him, angry at yourself for not being able to stop your feelings for him, angry at your damn manager for always giving you those looks of disdain — you were just angry at everything.

And it felt so good to let it out, your fingers leaving red unbruising marks on his skin that were going to fade away after a few minutes, your cunt drooling over his cock as you continued to move up and down his length, grinding against him. He wasn’t even wincing, and it made you momentarily forget about the fact that you were literally scratching him and just focus solely on the way his cock was rubbing against your sweet spots. It felt so good, oh it felt so good.

But then it didn’t. Your heart suddenly felt too heavy, your movements getting more unsteady as you became vividly aware od everything. It was overwhelming, too overwhelming.

Simon noticed the tears forming in your eyes, alarms going off in his head as he quickly stilled you by grabbing you tight, making you whimper and choke back on a sob, quickly covering your mouth in horror. Did he hurt you? He was just as horrified, his balaclava doing nothing to hide that since those blank eyes of his were all wide with concern now.

“Love…? Did I hurt you?” He cautiously asked, his thumb trying to soothe you by rubbing your skin. You looked at him helplessly, unable to explain the sudden train of emotions that just slammed into you hard.

“N-No…” You quickly shook your head, your grip loosening around his arms, trembling in his grasp as a tear slid down your cheek. “I don’t know… I… Red.” You squeaked out, looking away quickly.

Red. It was the safeword you both had decided when you first fucked months ago. You remember his persistence in making sure that you would use the safeword when you needed too, you remember the strange unidentified feelings in your chest at that time.

You always thought it was just a one time thing.

Simon gently pulled himself out of you, deciding to pull away though your hands continued to cling onto him, a silent plea to not let go.

His heart ached horribly at the thought that he made you cry. Everything around him was just a blur at this point, his sole focus being you. You needed him. Once setting you down properly on his lap again, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his warm embrace, letting you hug him tight as you buried your face into his neck, a wrecked sob leaving your lips.

“D-Do you hate me?” You sniffled weakly, his hand rubbing circles on your back.

“What makes you think that?”

“I-I just annoy you all the time. I know you’re mad at me… I am always bothering you with my feelings a-and…” Another sob dissolved your words until you just couldn’t speak anymore, your body shaking in his arms. “I am sorry…”

Your words were making his throat tighten up even more, an agonising pain spreading inside him as he tried to comfort you, shaking his head. “No, I don’t hate you. I could never…” He promised truthfully, pausing for a bit before speaking in a much quieter tone. “Don’t apologise. It’s me, I’m sorry…” Sorry for everything.

The words sounded so foreign, and felt not enough at the same time. Simon didn’t think he could ever do something that’d be enough for you in the way you deserved.

So he did what he could do, hold you and rub your back gently till your sobs subsided, soft hics leaving your lips as you tried to calm down, throat aching and face all teary. “M’tired…”

“I know, love…” He whispered softly, his hands gently moving up once you pulled your head back, gently cupping your cheeks. “Everything’s been shitty lately, I know.” He sighed.

It felt so good to hold you face. You weren’t flinching away from his tainted hands. Instead, you leaned into his touch, and that broke something inside him.

He slowly pulled back before hooking his finger underneath his balaclava, beginning to lift it up. You froze, teary eyes going wide as he lifted it up till his nose. Holy fucking hell, oh my—

He might as well just take the whole damn thing off at this point, though you didn’t bug him on that, too busy staring at the two scars that ran down his jaw, one small scar adorning the side of his upper lip. His lips. They somehow were just as what you imagined, in a good way. You swallowed and tried to speak, words getting caught up in your throat.

He leaned forward and didn’t wait for you to say anything, gently brushing his lips against the tear streaks on your cheeks, as if soothing the pain away. Your lips trembled at his little act, heart on the verge of exploding. “S-Simon… You’re beautiful.”

His movements halted at your words, lips parting a bit before he breathed out, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek as a form of ‘thank you’. Too intimate. Those words rang in his head like a blaring siren, though he chose to ignore them for now.

I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry. Each kiss on your face was an apology. Just a poor dog trying to please his owner — the one who didn’t care about all the fleas on him, all the dirt and all the flaws.

Simon didn’t know what it was that he felt for you, but if it was love, then he was awful at it.

“Why…?” You sniffled, unable to hold in a soft giggle from leaving you due to the ticklish feelings of the kisses he was giving you, your heart slowly warming up. It was a genuinely question. Why? Is this affection now just temporary, and did something change within him? You were confused.

“Just felt like it.” You both knew that he didn’t just feel like lifting his mask up.

You nodded and just put your whole weight on him, relaxing in his arms while he started rocking you back and forth, your hands finding their way to cup his face. Next time you’ll make sure he takes his whole mask off.

What are we now? That question stood right at the tip of your tongue, but you knew asking that will end the comfort of this moment, and you didn’t want that. So you held your words in, feeling him being the most vulnerable he has ever been with you.

“Can we hang out sometime…?” You asked softly, earning a nod from him.

“Sure, love.” He pressed one final kiss on your forehead before sighing and leaning back on the couch, closing his eyes for a while. “Let’s… Let’s get you cleaned up, ‘kay?” He asked and you reluctantly hummed, tiredly getting off his lap.

You let him lead you to his bathroom, his touches so sweet that it hurt yet felt tender at the same time.

But for now, you both could just bask into the comfort and warmth of the moment — let the tears be covered up by kisses and pretend that everything was alright.

notes — don't be fooled by the fluff hehe >:3.

[erika-xero]

Thoughts on ai and Art

What has Ai really changed for me is the perception of my own art. Years back, I was extremely concerned of my work being imperfect: everything had to look "right", the anatomy had to be flawless, the lines - clean and refined. The pipe-line had to be flawless too: minimal amount of layers, one - for lines, one - for colors, and a few for lighting/shading.

Meanwhile I was yearning for chaos and the standard pipe-line felt too strict, too limiting. I finished the drawing and cried over the imperfections, but I could not let myself create a new layer and just paint it all over as I wanted to - that would "mess up my perfect psd". This was even harder because I started as a traditional artist and traditional art is basically the same as drawing on one layer or stacking the layers on top of each other whenever you wish to change anything. I was so obsessed with the anatomy/perspective looking right that my works started looking boring and stiff. If I was not sure that I would be able to draw a certain body part at a certain angle ANATOMICALLY PERFECT - I just refused to draw it at all. Drawing back then was HARD. I forced too much limitations upon myself, I was so scared of making any mistakes and thus did everything I could to avoid the risk to fail. It felts like an entire world would see me failing and everyone - literally everyone - will disapprove. And don't get me wrong - the art community in my country has always been astonishingly toxic. We had, like, a group of 20 THOUSANDS individuals hunting down children online and bullying them into oblivion for drawing anime and furry characters in their school textbooks. And pretty much everyone except a small group of people (which I was a part of) thought that it's absolutely fine and this is how the things should be. Even the industry professionals were absolutely sure that young artists have to suffer and be ashamed of everything they do unless it is absolutely flawless at an any aspect. I was ashamed of everything I did back then. I was ashamed of drawing and posting sketches because I felt like they are not good enough to be shown to anyone. And then the Ai-boom started. And I had mixed feelings because I was not THAT scared, but I was somewhat disappointed of people? General public praised the generated slop ignoring the mistakes far worse than what real artists got bullied for for DECADES. The synthetic artworks are shiny. They are overrendered. They are liveless, boring, they lack fundamentals and yet somehow people viewed them as some kind of a miracle. I decided to learn how does those little machines generated their slop out of morbid curiosity, just to make sure that I got it right and it is spitting out cadavers created from mutilated, dismembered works of real artists. Used by people who did not care enough to pick up a bloody pencils. And I thought: why would I care enough to look at something that no one bothered to create? And then I started seeing everything I do completely different. I suddenly stopped caring of being perfect. Every piece I have ever done, every work I was crying over for it being ugly, every messy sketch and unfinished doodle suddenly started to matter a lot. Not that I stopped caring of doing my best, no. I stopped wishing to disown my own mistakes. They are my own. I cared enough to try and fail and to try again, and fail so badly that I wanted to cry, scream and throw up. And I repeated the cycle for long enough that I started to enjoy my silly doodles and started loving every tiny imperfection because this is what made my art so human. I still suck at drawing hands and feet. My line-art is messy and I started doing it right on top of my colored sketch. My pipe-line is in chaos and my PSDs look like a total mess of three hundreds of layers. I draw sketches with huge-ass round brush only adding the details that really matters. My works are better than they could ever be because they feel alive and chaotic as we human had always been. This is a love letter to my art and write it while flipping off my middle finger to the cadavers generated by the machine. I will not be stopped by glorified autocomplete and I refuse to be outdone by people who confuse googling an image with the act of creation.

My worst drawing is better than any of the generative imagery out there, because I cared drawing it.

[freelancearsonist]

I Was Fixed On Your Hand of Gold

➔ Lucien Flores x afab!Reader - 1k

➔ When Lucien gets bored, his hands start to wander. OR Lucien uses his fingers for good evil underneath the table at dinner with your friends.

➔ Rated MA for exhibitionism kink, fingering (r receiving), pet names (baby), references to smoking/nicotine use, no use of y/n, reader has female anatomy but no pronouns used. [please let me know if i missed any :)]

➔ i don't know anything about this man other than that he looks scummy and i'm in love with him. thank you to the dieter bravo brainrot club discord server for feeding my madness and to @shakespeareanwannabe for proofreading this incoherent horny babble <3 title is from 'would that i' by hozier wow what a surprise another cece fic named after a hozier song

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

It’s growled so low in your ear that you could almost believe it’s imagined. But with the way his fingers are dancing against your burning skin, tracing little circles along the length of your thigh, there’s nothing but intention in his voice–regardless of how raspy and deep it is.

Eager fingers push your skirt out of the way, impatient yet calculated. He moves slowly and with deliberation, careful not to show anything above the tablecloth.

“Don’t ignore your friends, baby,” he murmurs low into your ear so only you can hear.

It reminds you of where you are, and why this can’t happen right now. There’s five other people gathered around the table, all smiles and camaraderie and little sips of cheap wine. It’s been a good evening, really. But they’re your friends, not Lucien’s. He won them over within five minutes of meeting them and he’s been bored ever since. And when Lucien gets bored, his hands start to wander.

It’s wrong and you should really stop him. You should push his hand away before his nomadic fingers can climb any further up your thigh than they already have. But he finds the wet spot that’s pooling against your panties, and there’s no denying how much you want it.

It takes every ounce of your restraint not to moan when he finds your clit. It’s like his fingers gravitate to it, like there’s some kind of magnetic pull–even through the barrier of your panties, the cocky bastard doesn’t struggle at all.

He doesn’t even blink. His thick, practiced fingers swirl against the seat of your panties with ease and he doesn’t react even remotely when his fingers immediately come away soaked.

You’ve never been so wet in your life, watching him chuckle at the story your best friend is telling across the table and all the while pretending that his greedy, heavy fingers aren’t pushing your panties aside to swipe through the gathering slick.

Your knee jolts before you can control it and knocks against his thigh, thankfully not causing any noticeable disturbance to the rest of the table’s occupants. But the look he gives you is enough warning–head tipped down, dark eyes impossibly darker, jaw set. He looks dangerous, and it makes your traitorous cunt soak his fingers even further. He’ll only tell you once: if you can’t sit still, you’ll be going home aching and unsatisfied.

You need to come so bad in this moment that you feel like you might cry–so, despite feeling rather like a scolded child under his gaze–you lock every muscle in your body to the best of your ability and let the horrible, delicious onslaught continue.

You swallow thickly when you feel the first real press of his finger. It swirls from your clit down to your entrance, and that’s all the warning you get before he slowly, torturously presses it into your cunt.

He lets it rest, just for a moment, knuckle deep–he knows that even this single finger is a slight stretch. After a moment or two to adjust, he withdraws completely and you have to fight back the whine that builds in your throat. But before you can betray your impatience he’s back, overwhelmingly so, two fingers pressed deep and curled in the exact way that he knows will make you shatter. It’s cruel to do this to you right now, to find that most sensitive spot when you can’t moan or even shudder in reaction to the delicious onslaught of pleasure.

His fingers are relentless–there’s a skilled craft to the way his arm stays completely motionless while his middle and ring fingers flutter and scissor against your g-spot.

Your thighs shake from the sensation the closer he brings you to release. As much as you try to ignore it–to focus on the current story about something that happened in a grocery store parking lot last Thursday–he’s bringing you to the brink so fucking fast that there’s no denying it. There’s no hope for composure, especially once his calloused thumb joins in to swirl tight, rapid circles over your clit.

Above the table, you make eye contact with one of your closest friends and laugh breathlessly at the meaningless story they tell. They never even suspect that below the table, you’re squeezing and fluttering around Lucien’s hand as the most intense orgasm of your life sweeps through you.

It takes a solid few moments for you to be able to breathe normally again. And Lucien, the smug bastard, just leans back in his chair and spreads his leg comfortably, free hand resting behind his head in the most casual manner possible like he didn’t just make you come all over his fingers. And then, when he’s sure no one is looking, he brings his right hand up to his lips and sucks his fingers deep into his mouth–looking directly into your eyes as he does so. He licks every drop of your cum from his digits so carelessly in front of your friends that it nearly makes you come again.

You think he’s had his fill. Your head stops swirling and he laughs along with your friends and you think he’s done. You’re wrong. 

He takes your hand in his and laces your fingers together, guiding you ever-so-slowly to palm him through his loose sweatpants. His cock is straining, hard and insistent, against the thick cotton fabric–it makes you squirm in your own seat a little bit.

He’s impossibly casual about your touch as he wiggles a half-spent pack of Marlboros from his breast pocket.

“Go ahead, baby,” he mutters right into your ear. “Take care of your fuckin’ mess.”

And who are you to decline after he so generously took care of you?

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[totheblood]

even more modern!ellie headcanons

a/n: just a little something... again AI AUDIOS AT THE END... replies and reblogs are appreciated

masterlist

ellie is a homebody, and usually will have to be dragged out by you or dina

honestly she’s never ‘dragged’ out by you, she usually likes to tag along if she knows you’re going somewhere where there will be a lot of people

it’s not that she doesn’t trust you, it’s that she doesn’t trust the people around you

you don’t really mind anyway, you like how she loops her finger in the belt of your jeans and pulls you closer to her when she notices someone staring at you

if the person doesn’t stop she’s not above pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear while making direct eye contact with the person

you giggle, throwing your head back slightly and turning to look at her in the dim light, “what’s gotten into you, ellie?”

“that dick keeps looking at you,” another kiss pressed to your jaw, “don’t like it.”

but she’d much rather stay at home with you, both of you tucked under her comforter with the air conditioner turned down to 64° and whatever show you’re watching at the time on the tv

she hates to admit it, but she loves grey’s anatomy (she swore to you she’d never like it with a scoff and “that show is shit, babe. it’s for like, middle-aged moms with no life.”)

but now as you both have your eyes glued to the screen, she can’t help but scoff every time george is on the screen

“what?”

“he’s just such a fucking loser, this guy.”

“he’s not the worst.”

“he’s pretty fucking bad… why would he sleep with meredith and then make it about him when she starts crying! it’s obvious she’s vulnerable… i just don’t like him.”

ellie gets pretty passionate when watching tv. she’s always sharing her opinions with you, looking at you for validation or arguing when you disagree with her

she’ll always add something like: “you’re lucky you’re cute” or “if you weren’t my girlfriend i’d tear your argument apart” and then kiss you on your nose and go back to watching tv

ellie is an awful cook… like so bad

one time she tried to make a recipe for your anniversary, thinking it would be easy but ended up failing miserably

she’s the type to write out the grocery list and cross shit off as she picks things up… even when she doesn’t know what it means

she didn’t know what trader joe’s was, so when she got there she’d be picking shit up and looking at it with a weird look on her face, “mango… joe joe’s? what the fuck is that?” she’d mutter before putting the box back on the shelf

but eventually she’s getting sucked in, picking up a box of mini ice cream cones, cookie butter, and the rest of the groceries needed for the meal she planned on making for you

you come over and the place is a mess, there is flour all over the counter and floors, pots and pans piled up in the stove, and ellie is stood over a bowl, mixing with a giant wooden spoon

“ellie?”

“shit.. fuck,” she curses, jumping a little bit before turning and smiling at you, her eyes looking you up and down, “you fucking scared me. you’re early.”

“no, i’m not.”

ellie’s eyes glance down at her watch, cursing as she bolts towards the stove a “no, no, no,” falling from her lips as she opens and sees the chicken inside burnt to a crisp. she’s throwing on her mitt and pulling the pan out, sighing as she watches all her hard work go to waste.

“you were trying to cook for me?”

ellie forgot you were there for a moment, her jumping a little at the sound of your voice and wiping the sweat from her forehead as she gives you her best smile, even though it’s strained.

“babe, i’m sorry, i- i don’t know where i went wrong,” she sighs, watching as you walk closer to her and put your hands on the counter behind her trapping her in.

“don’t be sorry” you kiss the side of her lips and smile against her skin, tasting her sweat, “it’s sweet… no one’s ever cooked for me before.”

she’s blushing and leaning into you, your warmth providing her some comfort from her previous stress 

“you look nice,” she whispers below her breath, but you can still feel the puffs of air coming out of her mouth, “you deserve a good meal.”

“i’m not picky,” you whisper back, giggling as ellie’s heart leaps in her chest. she loves you so much it hurts

her hands rest at your hips when she kisses you gently, saying something about missing you that you miss because of how her lips feel against yours

you order takeout that night and eat it as you help her clean up the mess she made

“have you ever been to trader joe’s? that shit was crazy”

ellie is the type of girlfriend to send you two people from a tv show or an edit and be like “babe, this is so us”

or to think it’s so cute when you have matching icons on instagram, tiktok, or twitter

she just wants to show you off all the time

she draws the line at a joint couple account though

she’s always writing things about you, whether it be in her journal, little poems, or songs about you

she’d post a song she wrote you on tiktok with the caption “wrote this song about my lover” and not expect it to blow up

but then she’s receiving a million comments about how sweet it is and how people wish someone would do something like that for them

she doesn’t like the comment “can your gf fight” so she’s responding to all of them like “no, she can’t, but i can and i will! LEAVE MY GF ALONE!!”

but she’d brag about it to you, shoving her phone in your face and saying “look, your girlfriend is fucking famous.”

when you gasp and grab her face congratulating her in between kisses her face grows red and she’s smiling so wide her cheeks hurt

“don’t forget me when you become famous.”

“how could i forget my muse?”

ellie loves listening to music with you and will make you a playlist that she updates with every song she listens to that reminds her of you

she’s incredibly corny in that way

she always wants to listen to the music you suggest to her, wanting to be closer to you in any way she can

even if she doesn’t like it she’s pretending she loves it and playing it constantly, even when you aren’t around

ai audios:

[yanderestarangel]

"My heart belongs to you alone..."

TW: insecurities, jealousy, reader has trust issues, make-up sex, dom!bi han, praise, v!sex, ftm reader, rough sex, smut, little angst, afab anatomy.

⸺ Your insecurity was never new to him, however, Bi Han didn't really understand why you doubted his conduct and fidelity, but he was an understanding man, who loved you and understood that certain aspects would have to be worked on in your core - From past relationships, he was proud of you and even if he didn't say it verbally, his heart cried out for every piece of you... However, not even the cyromancer's solid passion and love stopped you from feeling hurt and insecure again.

Your jealousy and doubts were so visible that it even hurt, especially when you saw several people - new ninja recruits - trying to flirt with the grandmaster, you tried to control yourself, tried to control that underlying sadness that was trying to climb back into your mind and dope your senses...

But it was too late, especially when I saw some of them whispering about how much they wanted to sleep with their man. Bi Han wasn't stupid and he knew they were trying to flirt with him, he wanted to be a polite leader but that disgusted him, especially because he said several times that you were his partner, but it didn't help and it was too much for you to bear - when he realized you had already left for home which led him to cancel the rest of the training for the next day and go run after you, you were his number one priority.

⸺ Your body was lying on the bed, wrapped like a snail in several sheets, while the copious crying was audible, sub zero was a patient man... But at that moment, he knew that words wouldn't help enough, so he decided to act, act in the best way you could think of - taking the sheets off you with a quick movement, and forcing you to look deep into his eyes, "-Look at me." he ordered sternly, your eyes boring into his, seeking understanding.

"-Do you really believe that I would betray you like that?" His tone softened slightly. "-I chose you because you make me feel alive again. Because you bring light back to my dark world. Do you understand?" This time, he didn't even wait for a response from you, forcefully tearing any fabric that still prevented him from seeing your pretty pussy in his hungry eyes.

You babbled incoherent thoughts to him, letting your insecurities speak louder, which made Bi Han angry. With a violent movement of his hips, he buried himself completely inside you, moaning deeply as he did so - He gave you a light armbar on your neck - reaching down, he slapped your ass hard enough to make you scream before returning to his merciless pace.

Bi-Han grew in frustration, seeing you continue crying because you were insecure, but he held you in place, even if painfully, his cock throbbing against your cunt. "-You know that's not true baby boy...," he snarled, his free hand reaching between your legs to roughly rub your clit through - He began to thrust faster, harder than before, asserting his dominance over you both physically and emotionally.

His pace didn't slow down even as tears continued to trickle down your cheeks, staining the sheets beneath you. "-Listen to me boy." he commanded between heavy breaths. "-I choose you every fucking time. No matter what anyone else says or thinks, it doesn't change how I feel about you." His pace didn't falter, if anything, it intensified.

His hips bucked faster, harder, driving him deeper into your tight channel. Your moans turned into high-pitched whimpers, muffled by the hold on your throat. "-You are beautiful," he growled, his voice hoarse with need. "-Oh- So fucking beautiful... How could I change you? How could I leave you for someone else- You are my husband, goddamnit! And don't you dare forget it!" As he spoke, he began to thrust deeper and harder, pounding into you relentlessly.

The combination of pleasure and pain was overwhelming, causing new tears to well up in your eyes. But despite the carnal and mental pain, something inside you calmed down and you relaxed a little, as you looked directly into his eyes - He moaned deeply, leaning down to capture your lips in a messy kiss. "-That's a good boy... Cum, cum for me, my angel." Sub-zero groaned deeply, his cock twitching violently inside you as your orgasm washed over him - he followed suit seconds later, filling your pussy with hot cum.

His hips continued to rock back and forth for a few moments before he finally released his hold on your throat, allowing you to gasp for air - panting heavily, he turned to look at you, you both sweaty bodies intertwined in a mess of flesh and fluids. "-That was... intense," he managed between heavy breaths. "-But I think we both needed that... Never forget that I love you... never despise yourself again, I love you, I fucking love you."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[runningwithscizzorz]

HOW DO YOU DRAW FACES??!?! seriously, everything about your art is pure eyecandy, I love it SO MUCH, but faces. YOUR FACES. the faces are perfect. they capture every detail. they feel so human. so expressive. i would love to know how you draw/structure your faces because it's the biggest thing i'd like to improve on with my art!

Art is a translation of how you perceive the world. Art is both extremely watered down and painfully vulnerable with emotions. The artist translates the world, and people translate the art. Lots of art gets lost in translation. My goal is to make people read my art regardless of my language. I want my art to speak louder than my simple cluttered words could.

How can you read a face with no words? You have to find your own way to do that, but here’s a very rough way of how I read people and attempt to translate their world into mine.

One practice is drawing straight from a reference. I've been watching TLOU, which has some of the best acting ever and is perfect for screenshotting specific moments to recreate. Pulling scenes from episode five, I stretch and amplify the facial features to properly read their emotions in my style, ex, making Ellie and Sam's eyes bigger to amplify their youth, smoothing out facial wrinkles for simplicity, and (my favorite) exaggerating the mouths so they emote louder.

Second method is feeling how your face moves. Ethan Becker on YouTube explains it better (go watch all his videos) of how to feel and observe how your face compresses and works with different features to properly express emotions. Using your own face as a stencil to understand how your muscle and jaw work is both simple, and always accessible for artist reference.

An example of how I break down bits of a chapter into chunks for each panel while still attempting for it to run smoothly like the writing. Honestly, a lot of this part rides on wanting to do the author justice for their fabulous work. You want to show them how much their work affected you and why it’s totally worth it to draw their stories.

Some examples of scenes from media (that almost made me cry) and how I translate and manipulate it into my style. This is why I redraw scenes from movies so often, not only is it fun and easy, but it’s a great way of studying the masters

But, to actually answer your question, I think the reason my drawings are so expressive to you is because I still follow somewhat typical human anatomy while still being cartoony enough to break the uncanny valley and create an aesthetically pleasing style. I’m still practicing and studying everyday to get better. You must work as much as possible to attempt to properly translate the world.

[spindashes]

I’m not going to show any of it, because it’s perpetuated by whiny Twitter gamers, but some of the crying about some of the slight changes to the Sonic Generations portion of Sonic X Shadow Generations is embarrassing.

There are genuinely people whining about this and saying they won’t buy the game because of it. Because Rouge doesn’t have visible cleavage anymore. I’m not kidding.

It’s such a NOTHING change, I can’t understand what there is to whine about even for the most misogyny-poisoned gamerbro. Like, I’ll be real, Rouge’s boobs looked silly in the original. They come off as a childish attempt at sex appeal and do nothing but objectify the character and make her stick out like a sore thumb against character designs with simpler anatomy. What is lost by changing this? You don’t get to be aroused by a character that shows up in 3 cutscenes in an E10+ Sonic the Hedgehog game?

Equally confusing is people complaining about the changes to this scene with Amy. Like, yeah, I think this is a really good change! Her trying to grab at Sonic and him needing to literally hold her off comes off as ridiculously flanderizing, it reduces her to her crush on Sonic and makes her act on it to an incredibly uncomfortable extent. It’s why I don’t see a Sonic Heroes remaster happening anytime soon, because that characterization of Amy is incredibly uncomfy and mildly misogynistic.

Should I be surprised? Eh, not really. Gamerbros on Twitter are giant misogynistic babies who will throw a tantrum over things they don’t like and decry as “woke”, but it’s still baffling to see regardless. These are miniscule changes made to better represent characters with who they’re meant to be in the current context of the franchise, and to treat them with more respect as a whole. Anyone complaining about this should genuinely reconsider their priorities.

[ts19009]

Hong's Anatomy: Part 1

Pediatrician surgeon!  Joshua x pediatric surgeon!  Female Reader 

Synopsis: Coming to Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital wasn’t on your bucket list, that’s for sure, but when you meet the head of your department, Joshua Hong, it's one of the only things that constantly brightens your day. 

Warnings: swearing, made up medical terms and procedures, i have no idea if any of this is medically accurate it’s just for story, flirting, no smut…yet?

Words: 3.5k (not quite 5k words, but I had to end this part like this)

NOT EDITED, SO I MAY GO BACK AND EDIT LATER (teehee)

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

“Julia Harring, fifteen years old, kidney failure. Waited six months on the donor list and today is finally the day,” Surgical intern Jonah read, as Julia nodded.  

“Why do both of you have to work on me? I thought it was only one big fancy surgeon per patient?” Julia asked, referring to both you and Joshua. You chuckled and checked her monitor to record her stats. 

“This is a bigger surgery Julia. You should be grateful that Doctor Hong and I are both making sure that your transplant goes well.” Julia rolls her eyes and smiles. 

“I have to go see another patient, but I’ll see you in the OR,” Joshua smiles, as you nod and Julia waves, before making his way down the hall. 

Julia smiles and looks at you from the corner of her eye, “he’s hot.” 

“You think so?” You joke back, as she nods. “Doctor Hong is quite popular here, so I’m sure you aren’t the only one that thinks that.” 

“Including you?” 

You pause in the middle of changing her I.V to look around the room. Luckily there was no one, but if anyone did here, it would be incredibly embarrassing. 

“I think Doctor Hong is a lovely person and an incredible surgeon, I haven’t paid attention to his appearance,” you state resuming changing the I.V as she scoffs. 

“Please, you were both making eyes at each other the whole time. Don’t tell me you don't like even thinking of becoming a thing with him?” Julia said, lifting her arm both for the I.V and to shrug. 

“I don’t have time to make it a ‘thing’ with Doctor Hong Julia. If I was a ‘thing’ with Doctor Hong, I wouldn't have time to help you,” you say inserting the I.V causing Julia to wince. “Don’t touch the I.V for a bit, I’ll get someone to catch up with you right before the surgery.” Julia nodded, as you left the room and asked Green to check up on Julia’s vitals before the surgery and report to you before your pager went off to go down to the pit. 

“What’s going on?” You asked, watching a whole bunch of people benign wheeled across the pit and placed in the rooms. 

“School bus accident, dozens of kids were injured,” Joshua exclaimed rushing to room one, “go to room five.” 

You nodded and put on a fresh pair of gloves before making your way into room 5. “What’s their case?” 

“Mikayla Thurthey, nine years old. Broken arm, broken rib, punctured lung. If we move the fractured rib or anything on the right side the lung starts leaking and fluid can flood the lung,” Mingyu said, working busily around the room. 

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, watching the little girl in front of you crying. “Can we get an OR?” We need to fix the arm and fix the lung right now?” Mingyu nodded, and started wheeling Mikayla down the hall to the elevator. While you were running down the hall, you saw Joshua giving a boy CPR and pulling out a crash cart. 

“Clear!”

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“Okay, can you work on the lung. I can do the arm?” Mingyu asked, as you nodded and started washing your hands. 

“How many more kids were like this?” You asked quietly. Slightly terrified of the answer. 

“Just two. Mikayela and Justin, the boy Josua was working on. The rest were hurt, but with a few broken arms and legs or whiplash. These two were at the back and got the grunt of the force from the accident.” You nodded, and took a deep breath.

“Let’s do this,” you said, as you both headed into the OR. 

Once you had gotten to the lung you noticed the puncture and started thinking about what to do. You moved quickly and removed the debris and instructed Green to keep consistent suction on the site to prevent the fluid from flooding the lung while you started working on repairing the site. 

“More suction Green,” you calmly asked, as Green got closer into the site. “Mingyu?” 

“Yeah?” He asked, not looking up. 

“She’s hypotensive, can you back off the arm from a second,” you said, as Mingyu backed away from her arm and looked over to see you working on trying to steady her episode. 

“Green? What do you do when someone is hypotensive?” You asked, as Green paused for a moment, but quickly responded. 

“Ensure effective manual ventilation of the lungs,” He responded confidently. 

“Yes, but she’s already on ventilation, and it’s not helping,” you challenged. 

“I don’t know then,” he confessed as you nodded. 

“That’s okay, we’re going to get you to not only suction but also apply some air pressure on the site to make sure that it’s getting ventilated properly. It’s okay that you don’t know, this doesn’t happen very often,” you reassured him, as he nodded and started applying the pressure. A few moments later, her vitals went back to normal and Mingyu resumed working on her broken arm again. 

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After the surgery, you were given a lunch break, so you decided to eat outside in the ‘greenhouse’ section of the hospital. Once you got there you saw Joshua sitting on the bench you’ve claimed, crying. 

“Joshua?” You asked, slowly approaching him. He quickly spun around and wiped his tears away. 

“Oh. Hi, sorry,” he started, “I was just leaving.” 

“No, please don’t go,” you reached out, “are you okay?” 

You assumed it was because of the boy, Justin, was the reason Joshua was crying, but you wanted him to tell you. 

“I should be better with losses. I’ve had a ton of them,” he sighed, “but Justin was so scared when he was awake, he kept asking for his dad and asking me if his friend Mike was okay.” You empathetically nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder as he started to cry more. 

“You did everything you could,” you tried to reassure him. 

“I know I did. I always try my very best and it wasn’t enough. He died scared and alone,” he sobbed. “He didn’t die alone,” you interrupted. 

“You were there with him, Rose was with him, there were people who cared about him when he died. He wasn’t alone.” Joshua took a deep breath, trying to calm down his breathing, and nodded. 

“How did your surgery go?” He managed to stay in stuttering breaths. 

“It went well. Managed to fix her punctured lung and broken arm and I had a teaching moment with Green,” you said, as Joshua wiped his nose and nodded. 

“That’s good.”

You both sat in comfortable silence watching the clouds move above your heads, before his pager went off. 

“I have to go check on Julia. Her surgery is right after your lunch, so I’m gonna go make sure everything is okay,” he said, wiping his nose one last time and standing up, wiping his hands on his pants. 

“Okay, I’ll be there right when I’m done,” you smiled, as he nodded and started to head in before pausing. 

“Thanks for letting me talk and comforting me like that. I’m supposed to do that for you.” 

“We can treat it like a currency, I’ll comfort you, if you comfort me later?” You joked, as he chuckled, and looked down at the grass. 

“So I’m in debt, great. Haven’t dealt with that in a while,” he joked back before heading inside. Leaving you alone to think about the vulnerable moment you just shared. 

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“Doctor L/N?” Joshua asked, coming up to wash his hands right next to you. 

“Doctor Hong?” 

“Would you mind keeping our interaction, more specifically the… crying aspect of the conversation, private?” He whispered, as you nodded and shut off the water. 

“Of course. I expect none the less when it comes my turn,” you said as he turned to see you and smiled, before putting on his mask.

“Let's go save a life.”

You nodded and walked into the OR to see some nurses you've never worked with before. Jennie, Yuna, and Jake, and a new anesthesiologist Jay. 

“Hello everyone, let’s save this girl's life,” you said, as everyone nodded in agreement and started getting to work. Joshua made the first incision while you made sure the bleeding was controlled and moved a few organ’s around. Jonah had just gone to receive the kidney, since it was very delicate and had to be handled carefully and in a timely manner. 

After about thirty minutes of Joshua making sure everything was okay, you started to make an incision on the lower abdomen to make room for the new one when Jonah came into the room with the new kidney. 

Joshua took the kidney and slowly took it out while you back up a bit to let Joshua fit it in the new cavity. He placed it in when all the sudden the monitor started beeping rapidly. 

“What’s happening?” Joshua asked, trying to not move too quickly and damage the kidney. 

“She’s clotting and bleeding out!” You said, grabbing the suction and trying to clean up the pool forming. “Push Coumadin and get me some rag’s please!” You instructed Yuna and Jennie as they nodded while Jay worked on adding the Coumadin. “Put the kidney back, it’s gonna be a bit.” Joshua nodded and carefully put the kidney back and started moving to stitch up the bleeding. 

You waited a few moments for the blood thinners to kick in but they weren’t working quick enough. 

“Push more Jay!” You exclaimed, as Jay nodded and added more. Finally her blood started to thin out and her vitals were getting better. Joshua quickly finished up the stitches and picked up the kidney again placing it in the cavity and working on attaching it properly. 

Right before closing Julia up you noticed some of her numbers weren’t looking quite right and didn’t want to stitch her up with unbalanced numbers.

“Can we test the kidney before we close?” You asked Joshua, as he nodded. You watched it, waiting for the color to appear into the kidney, which normally took up to two minutes after being placed in the body. 

“Shit.” Joshua said, looking up at the clock. It had been about four minutes and the kidney was starting to look gray, instead of coloring. “It’s dying!”   

“We’ve opened up a spot for her though,” you mumbled, trying to think of a solution when all the sudden the machines started beeping.

“She’s crashing!” Rose said, as everyone started running around. 

“We did everything right! What’s going on?” Joshua confessed as you heard the machine flatline. “Shit, get the crash cart!” 

You started compressions, and whipped your head to look at Joshua who was looking at her vitals wondering what was going wrong in the surgery, wile Rose handed you the paddles.

“Charge to 300. Clear!” You said, as Juila convulsed, but no heartbeat. 

“Clear!”

350, “Clear!” 

400, “Clear!”

“Charge to 450,” you exclaimed as Joshua sighed and looked at you trying desperately to save Julia. 

“Y/N,” he muttered, “she’s gone,” he said. Trying to pry you from her body. 

“No, she was in here for a kidney transplant, not a heart failure!” You cried, looking around the room to see everyone with their head down. 

“Time of death, 17:21.” Joshua said, breaking the silence. You looked to Joshua to see him covering the incision and started to feel sick. 

“Can you close alone, Doctor Hong?” You asked, as Joshua nodded. You quickly took off your mask and gloves and darted out of the OR.

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“Y/N?” Joshua asked, walking up to you at the Ped’s desk. You were looking over Julia’s charts again. 

“I don’t get it. She was fine, they wouldn’t have given her the kidney if she wasn’t fine, why did her heart just stop like that? The blood thinners don’t stop your heart like that, it must have been something else,” you exclaim, not looking up from your tablet. 

“You’ve been here for a long time, you need to go home. You can do some more research when you get back,” Joshua pleaded, trying to take the tablet from you. 

“Joshua…” 

“No, Y/N. You had two long surgeries, you’ve been here for twelve hours. You legally have to go home now,” he chuckled, but you could tell he was serious. Technically, he was your boss. So you listened and slowly put the tablet down. 

“Julia was my first loss. I’ve been here for almost a month and she was my first loss,” you quietly confess. Joshua wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t facing you.

“You’re very lucky you’ve gone this long without a loss,” he answered. 

“I know. My last job, I lost two kids on the first day, but it doesn’t make this loss any easier.” 

“Of course,” he said, “the hard part about this job, right?”

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Letting the loved ones know that they just lost their person is always the hardest part and unfortunately, that was Joshua’s job today. Julia’s parents were in the waiting room and her father was pacing around the room. 

This was also the hardest part of the job. 

“Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Harring?” Joshua asked the couple as they both nodded and stood up. 

“Is Julia out yet?” Her mother asked. 

“There was an unfortunate complication during Julais’ surgery. We were performing her transplant when her heart suddenly stopped beating,” Joshua explained, “we tried everything we could, but we couldn’t save her. She unfortunately passed away.” 

Julia’s mother covered her mouth whilst letting out a sob, and her father furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and held his wife. 

“What? I thought she was in there for her kidney? How did her heart stop?” Her father asked, tears also running down his face. 

“We aren’t sure, the operation was going extremely successful. Neither I, nor Doctor L/N could figure out why. We tried everything we could though to try and start her heart again,” Joshua explained again, as her mother turned around and buried her face into her husband's shoulder, crying even harder. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

“Thank you Doctor,” her father choked out, before turning and burning his face into his wife's hair and crying as well. 

Joshua waited for a few seconds before heading back to the desk. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair before grabbing his tablet and started filling out paperwork. 

He had lost two patients that day. He was also ready to go home. 

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“So, how’s your new job Y/N?” Your therapist asked. 

You had been going to the same therapist ever since you graduated college. She was a lovely woman that you met when you lived back in South Korea. She really helped you during your internship and residency. You managed to keep in close contact with her even after you moved. 

You sighed into the phone and took a sip of wine. 

“It’s going well, I really like my coworkers. I’m still getting used to it and I haven’t made any real friends,” you confess. 

“Why haven’t you made any friends?” She asked, you could hear her typing away on her laptop. 

“Well at first I was just trying to keep up with the pace of the hospital. Then I was trying to just be liked by everyone. I never took time to get to know anyone,” you said, “I did ask someone out.” 

“Oh! That’s good. Tell me about them,” she exclaimed. 

“He’s technically my boss? Kinda, he’s the head of the Ped’s department, so we work together quite a bit. On my first day he asked me out, then the next day I asked him out, but we haven’t hung out since.” 

“Are you wanting anything romantic out of him?” You sighed, and took a minute to think about the question. Not quite sure if you knew the answer. 

“I don’t know. I mean he is very attractive and we do have pretty good chemistry,” you blush, “but again, we work together. So it’s complicated.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a no.” 

“Jisoo,” you warn, “it’s not a no, but I don’t want to rush into anything.” 

“That’s perfectly valid, but you’re all alone in a big city. Romantic intentions or not, you should still try and spend some more time with him,” she said, as you sighed. There was only a few minutes left in your session, so you both called it a night and promised to call again next month. Something you weren’t expecting from Jisoo though, was homework. 

Make one close friend by next month. 

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You were always the type of person to do your homework immediately. Assigned all the semester's course work? It was done by the end of the month. So when you got homework from Jisoo, you wanted to get it done immediately. Which meant that you needed to get started immediately. 

Joshua wasn’t coming in until halfway through your shift, so that meant that you had half a day to come up with ideas of how to befriend others. 

“Why the long face?” Jeonghan asked. You never really see him in the Ped’s department, so seeing him was a surprise. Now was the time to try and make a new friend.

“I was just thinking how it’s a friday and that I don’t have any plans after work,” you confessed, “do you want to go for dinner after work?” 

“Dinner?” He asked, you could tell he was quite taken aback, but he had a smirk on his face. “I’d love to.” 

“Great. I get off at seven, but I’d like to go home and freshen up,” you said, as Jeonghan nodded. You both exchanged numbers and agreed that he’d pick you up from your apartment at eight, and go out to dinner. 

Good progress toward your homework. 

“See you at eight,” he smirked, before heading into one of his patients' rooms. 

“Did you just score a date with Doctor Yoon?” Jake asked, as you turned around and tried to hide your blush. 

“Maybe, he didn’t call it a date,” you replied. Jake rolled his eyes.  

“I heard that whole conversation. It’s a date Y/N.” 

“What’s a date?” You heard behind you. More specifically, Joshua’s voice. 

Shit.

“Y/N is going on a date with Doctor Yoon,” Jake answered. You looked to Joshua to see a little look of surprise on his face. 

“It’s not a date, I’m just trying to make some friends,” you mumbled, “and Doctor Yoon seems like a good friend.” 

“He is a very good friend, I would know. He’s my best friend,” Joshua said, putting his hands in his pants pockets and crossing his legs. 

Shit. Again. 

You just set up a date with your boss/kinda crushes best friend.

A/N: OMG, this was quite the chapter. I had a lot of fun learning/ making up some medical procedures. I tried my best to be as medically accurate as possible, but google can only tell you so much. Also, Jeonghan has been added into the arena! I love the banter that Joshua and Jeonghan have and I just new that I had to have his smirky/sassy attitude! I really do hope you like this ♥

taglist: @asasilentreader , @myjaeyunn

[nortism]

What the Ghosts have been watching on TV

Everyone

Channel 4 Home renovation shows: They're free with ads and there's an infinite amount of them so Alison puts them on for the whole gang when she and Mike have work to do in same way people put on YouTube videos for their dogs. This has backfired slightly as all the ghosts now have very strong and conflicting opinions on how Button House should be renovated.

The Great British Bake-off: A whole family event, they all get very invested. Kitty thinks Alison Hammond is the funniest person in the world. The Captain feels normal about Noel Fielding. As well as a watching it live, I'm sure they've also watched the whole back catalogue together.

Mama Mia: This where the Captain learnt his ABBA songs from. Pat and Julian enjoy the nostalgic music and I think the others are just bewitched by the story and music

Robin

Anything David Attenborough: For obvious reasons. I think he'd get a kick out of trying to do his voice. The others sometimes join in.

Cunk on Earth/ Britain: I think they've got a similar attitude towards history and I think he'd find serious historians trying to answer silly questions incredibly funny

Horrible Histories: He watches this with Kitty, they both find poop jokes funny.

Humphrey

Antiques Roadshow: I'm not sure why. I honestly think he's just glad to watch anything.

Mary

Gardener's World: I think she misses being able to look after plants and I think she'd be endlessly fascinated by how hosepipes work.

Mio Mao: She loves them fucking plasticine cats. She will not stop singing the theme song

Honestly think she'll watch anything with anyone and would get invested, she seems like the ideal person to watch telly with.

Kitty

Ru Paul's Drag Race: I think they all watch this every so often but Kitty is invested. There's bright colours, fun outfits and drama, it's definitely Alison's go to when she needs Kitty distracted.

90s and 2000s romcoms: I believe that every couple of weeks Alison and Kitty have a "girl's night" where they watch all the romcoms that Alison used to watch with her mum, mostly because I love watching romcoms with my mum and Kitty deserves that. Kitty is particularly fond of Twilight.

Thomas:

Any Jane Austen adaptations: He watches them with Fanny as they were both big fans when they were alive (its the only thing they agree on). Kitty also joins sometimes. His favourite is the 1995 Pride and Prejudice tv show.

Fanny:

Grey's Anatomy: I haven't seen it but my mum's a big fan and there's millions of seasons, I think she'd pretend she's not that into it but she definitely is.

Call the Midwife: Same as above.

The Captain:

M*A*S*H: I've seen about half an episode of this but it seems to be about fit young men in a war so it sounds like his thing. Probably Pat's recommendation.

Our Flag Means Death: I think Alison has been trying to sneakily show Cap gay media under the pretence of saying "it's just a fun show about pirates". I think the whole gang watched it together. The Captain definitely didn't cry at the end of season 1 why would think that?

Pat

Taskmaster: I think this is one they all watch together but it's definitely one of Pat's favourites. He probably attempted to set up his own version of the show with the ghost which ended horribly.

Doctor Who: I think he watched the original run when he was alive and was absolutely ecstatic to find out they made more. Julian makes fun of him for it.

Julian

Have I Got News For You: Has been airing since 1990 so he definitely watched it while he was alive. I think he likes to keep up with current politics but not in a very serious way so this is his middle ground.

Succession: I haven't seen this show but it seems to be about horrible men in suits being horrible to each other which seems right up his alley.

The Thick of It: Speaking of horrible men in suits being horrible. I think he watches this with Robin who has absolutely no idea what's going on but just laughs when Julian does and they have the best time. Julian is constantly pausing to add his own anecdotes

What We Do In The Shadows: Alison put this on as a 'let's show the Captain it's ok to be gay' show and the Captain was immediately horrified so Julian adopted it. He identifies with Lazlo.