#hearing her talk was like having the thoughts taken straight from my brain

[yourlittlettoy]

So.. I met subbylittlelee (this links to her Instagram!) last weekend 😍😘❤️

She is my dark, twisted, non-con soul sister 🥰 you’ve never seen two girls so eager for a nightmarish experience in one room 👯‍♀️✨~

We were matchy in both our Disney hoodies, and as well in our desire to tease u~ 👣😇😉

#feet #me #toes #pictures #photos #photo set #tease~ #community friends #subbylittlelee #seriously guys I used to just screenshot her text posts to explain my dark preferences to people #hearing her talk was like having the thoughts taken straight from my brain #it was crazy :D and im so thankful to have met her- #can anyone spot shenanigans happening in the last photo 👀 #actually illegal 😂😂😤😜

[ctitan98official]

Anonymous: I just rewatched the devil wears prada, and can't stop thinking about reader hanging out with the twins helping them with homework or something when one of them asks reader when their gonna marry Miranda. Which catches reader off guard so the twins say because they're the happiest with them compered to Miranda's previous marriages, while their talk she comes home and smiles to herself that the twins approve highly of reader. Do you think she would bring this up to reader or would she keep it to herself for later? Btw I love your works and I hope you have a great day :) aslo sorry if it's a long ask I just had this bubbling in my brain after watching

Cute T^T I could go for some Miranda right about now XD Let’s get into it!

The sun was slowly setting over the bustling streets of New York City as you found yourself sitting at the kitchen table of Miranda’s elegant townhome. The twins were engrossed in their homework as they rapidly fired questions at you.

“Y/N, what’s the area of this triangle?” Caroline asked eagerly, pointing to a diagram in her math textbook.

You smiled, leaning closer to inspect the problem. “Let’s see. Well, to find the area of a triangle, you need to multiply the base by the height and divide it by two.”

As you explained the concept, your mind began to drift. You couldn’t believe how close you were with the girls now. They were hellbent on getting you fired when you first started working for Miranda… But, it had been almost a year now and the two have come to adore you. You and Miranda have grown inseparable also. You two have been dating seriously for the past few months and you’ve never been happier. It feels like everything in your life is falling into place finally.

Lost in your thoughts, you were taken aback when Cassidy suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence. “Hey, Y/N, when are you gonna marry our mom?”

You shot up ramrod straight, your heart skipping a beat and face flushing violently. You looked at the twins with wide eyes, unable to comprehend the question. “What?! Where’d that come from?!” You panic, trying not to look like an idiot… But failing.

Caroline and Cassidy exchanged a mischievous glance, as if they had been expecting this type of reaction out of you.

Caroline spoke with an air of confidence, “Well, it’s just that Mom’s been married twice before and she didn’t seem very happy. But when you’re around, she smiles more and she’s a lot calmer. Maybe you could be the one for her,” She explains, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your mind was racing, trying to process the implications of the twins’ words. Did Miranda truly feel that way? Was she happier with you than anyone she had ever been with? Or was this simply a product of childhood innocence and wishful thinking?

However, before you could collect your thoughts, Miranda’s elegant figure appeared in the doorway.

Oh, shit. Did she hear any of that?

Miranda stood there for a moment, observing you and the twins with a soft, loving smile on her face.

“Well, well, what a lovely surprise, darling,” Miranda said to you, her voice filled with warmth and genuine affection. “I didn’t expect you to be home yet.”

You cleared your throat nervously. “U-uh! Yeah! Yeah, Nigel got the final print ready and I brought it home so you could take a look,” You stammered.

Miranda thinks you look so cute when you’re flustered like this. She grins softly. “Thank you, my love,” She tells you. “How is the homework coming along, you three?” She asks, addressing all of you.

Caroline and Cassidy jumped up from their seats, eager to show their progress to their mother.

As she approached the kitchen table, Miranda’s eyes briefly caught yours, a glimmer of understanding passing between you.

Fuck. You could sense that she had indeed overheard the earlier conversation between you and the twins. You hope she isn’t freaked out or anything.

As usual, though, Miranda’s tells are not obvious. Great. Now you’re going to be stressing all night about what she’s thinking.

Miranda easily guided the conversation towards the schoolwork, taking note of the twins’ achievements and offering her support and praise. She was proud of their work, but her gaze kept returning to you, more so than usual.

As the evening progressed, you couldn’t help but wonder if Miranda would ever bring up the twins’ words. If she would even acknowledge that she overheard what you three were talking about. You are deeply in love with this woman. So… Honestly, yes. You have thought about proposing to her. Multiple times… Before you chicken out. You try to remain neutral for now. You can’t show your cards. You have to see what Miranda will say first.

There were moments tonight when it seemed as though Miranda was on the brink of broaching the subject. Her eyes lingering on yours a little longer, her smile a touch more tender.

However, the night wore on, you began to fear that Miranda would keep her thoughts to herself for a later time. Perhaps she wanted to give you both space to process the unexpected revelation, to let your emotions settle before addressing the complexities of your relationship.

Eventually, bedtime arrived. Miranda helped the girls get ready and cleaned up and you tucked them into their beds.

As you followed Miranda out and began to turn off the lights, Caroline suddenly looked up at you with a soft smile. “Hey, Y/N. Can you come here for a second?” She whispered conspiratorially.

You quirked an eyebrow in confusion. “Okay,” You said with a grin. “One sec, babe,” You told Miranda. She nodded with a smile and waited just outside the bedroom door.

You walked over to Caroline’s bed. “What’s up, bud?” You asked.

“Y/N, even if you don’t marry our mom, we’ll always love you,” She said quietly. She turned and looked at Cassidy, silently asking if she agreed.

Cassidy nodded rapidly. “Yeah! We love you, Y/N!” She said excitedly.

You felt a lump forming in your throat, overwhelmed by the depth of the girls’ feelings. “Thanks, you two. That means a lot to me. I love you both too,” You say and give them each a kiss on the forehead.

As you made your way out and closed the twins’ bedroom door, Miranda was still in the hallway, her expression now unreadable. She wordlessly took your hand and led you to her room.

“I heard what the girls said earlier,” Miranda told you, her voice filled with a mixture of raw emotion and uncertainty. “And, while you may not have an answer for them right now, I want you to know that I cherish what we have,” She smiled softly. “I’m glad they can see what I see. You are a wonderful person, darling and I love you so much.”

Your heart swelled with happiness, understanding the weight behind Miranda’s words. You leaned in and gave her a kiss, savoring the beautiful woman in front of you.

The path ahead might be uncertain, but the bond you shared with Miranda and the girls was undeniably special. And for the time being, that was enough – A cherished family in the making, filled with love, laughter, and the promise of a future where anything was possible.

Masterlist

#miranda priestly #the devil wears prada #dwp #miranda priestly x reader #devil wears prada #caroline priestly #cassidy priestly #meryl streep #miranda priestly x y/n #y/n is stupid

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Perfect (Alex Blake x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Someone has an opinion on your relationship with Alex

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: none

Alex bowed her head towards you, soft hair brushing over the exposed skin of your shoulder. You sighed, almost missing the words she was speaking, caught up in how beautiful she looked. Her smile told you she knew exactly what was going through your brain. Your eyes drifted down to her lip.

“Honey?”

You hummed, drifting closer to her.

“You didn’t hear a single word I said, did you?” she said, chuckling quietly.

“Sure I did,” you replied, “something about jellyfish.”

Her lips were so pink, practically begging you to kiss her as her smile only grew fonder. There was nothing more beautiful than her, no person nearly so captivating. You yearned for her more than you’d ever thought was possible.

“Not quite,” she said, biting down on her lower lip.

You shifted closer, despite not needing too. The room wasn’t crowded and it wasn’t too loud to hear her. All you wanted was to be as close to her as you could be. To feel the heat from her body, the brush of her fingers, her breath ghosting over your skin. You wanted it all, like a greedy child let loose in a candy store.

“No, no, you definitely said something about a jellyfish,” you said.

“I really didn’t, sweetheart.”

You watched her finger tuck hair behind her ear, practically able to feel that same finger trailing down your spine. You knew the feeling of her touch better than your own name by this point.

“You have to stop looking at me like that,” she murmured.

“Like what?” You looked at her from under lowered eyelashes.

“Like you’re hoping I’m about to devour you right here,” she replied, looking you straight in the eye.

“But I am hoping that,” you said, pouting when she didn’t immediately do just that to you.

“Darling girl,” she said, a note of warning in her voice, “we’re not giving the other patrons of this coffee shop a show.”

“So take me somewhere else.” You shrugged. You weren’t picky where she took you.

“You’re pushing it.”

There was still a warning tone in her voice but the hand she placed on the back of your neck pulled you in. You melted against her, sighing into her mouth. You would never grow tired of her kisses, sinking in to her until you didn’t know where you ended she began. Your hand landed on her knee, fingers digging in when you tasted her tongue.

“I’m going to get a refill,” she said when she drew back, not caring she’d reduced you to a melted puddle of goo.

You stared down into your dregs of coffee left in the bottom of your mug, doing your best to catch your breath. It couldn’t be normal, your reaction to her. It was overwhelming, the way the simplest things could leave you breathless and wanting. Just watching her teach was a lesson in seduction according to your mind.

“She’s way too old for you.”

“What?” You looked up, still in a haze of the taste of Alex on your lips.

A woman, not much older than you, had taken the seat across the table from you. You wrinkled your nose, knowing it was rude, but not overly caring. You hadn’t asked her to join you. You wished she hadn’t.

“Doctor Blake, she’s way too old for you,” she said, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder.

You glanced over, finding Alex standing at the counter, money in hand. Her eyes flickered over to you before landed on the woman across from you, her expression slipping into confusion. You turned back to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said.

“The two of you were putting on quite a show,” she said, flashing you a white smile, with perfect straight teeth, “you must make her feel young again.”

“Can I help you with something?” you asked, finding her vaguely familiar.

“I just think it would make sense for you to be with someone more your own age,” she said, eyes widening as if you’d offended her.

“I didn’t know I was taking constructive criticism on my relationship,” you replied.

Your eyes darted up again and you found Alex standing at the counter, waiting for her order, arms crossed, long fingers tapping against her arm. Her gaze had darkened but softened when she saw you looking at her. That was one of the things you loved most, the way she changed when she realised you were there.

“I mean, she can’t really be giving you everything you want, right? Like you can’t have that much in common. And you know she’s going to die way before you,” the girl said, stealing your attention again.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you replied.

“Look, I like Doctor Blake. I do. She’s brilliant, obviously. But you’re like the age of her students. So you know she’s only interested in you because you’re young and hot,” she said, eyes sweeping over you, “if you’re okay with that then that’s fine, but if you want something deeper maybe you should look for someone closer to your own age.”

“I’m perfectly happy in my relationship,” you said.

“And that’s fine. I just think you should know that some of us are losing respect for her for whatever midlife crisis this is,” she said.

“I don’t think her personal life has any bearing on her professional life,” you said, “or rather, I don’t think it should.”

“Well, sure, in an ideal world but you know what it’s like being a woman,” she said, leaning forward over the table.

“So I’d expect you to be kinder to women, so we don’t fall into the same judgmental patterns as men,” you said, also leaning over, “although maybe this isn’t about respect because of my relationship.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You always sit in the front row of her classes. You try to answer every question she asks. You want her attention,” you said, lowering your voice, “it’s got nothing to do with her being older than me, does it? Not when you’d be okay with it if it was you she was dating.”

“What?” She reeled back as if you’d slapped her.

“I know it’s hard to see someone you have a crush on have feelings for someone else,” you said, “but she’s your professor. Crushes like this pass. All of mine did.”

“How dare you?” She stood up, shoving the chair away with a loud scraping noise.

You could see Alex walking back over, two mugs in hand, a look of concern on her face. Her step hurried, and you felt the vice around your heart begin to loosen. The girl above you was glaring down, blue eyes flashing.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she hissed, leaning over the table to get in your face.

“I don’t have to. I know the allure Alex has. And I didn’t ask to have this discussion with you. You chose to comment on my relationship. It’s not my fault you don’t like the outcome,” you said, “but at least I understand your feelings. I know I’d be upset if Alex didn’t love me back.”

“Candace,” Alex said, appearing over her shoulder, “I hope you’ve done the reading for class tomorrow.”

The blonde, Candace, whirled around, eyes growing wide and mouth falling open. You let your eyes swoop over Alex, biting down on your bottom lip. Her lip shifted, just slightly, and you knew she’d noticed. But the way her gaze hardened as it landed on the other girl had you shifting in your seat.

“Of course, Doctor Blake,” she said, sounding a little breathless.

“Was there something in it that confused you?” Alex asked, and you could hear that she was enjoying putting this girl in her place.

“No, Doctor Blake,” she said, fingers beginning to twirl her hair.

“Then I can see no possible reason for you to be interrupting my date,” she said.

“Right, yes, of course,” she said, “sorry.”

“Luckily for you, our plans have changed. You keep the table and the drinks.”

She placed the mugs down on the table and stepped around, holding a hand out for you. You took it, letting her pull you up from the table, hand easily sliding around your waist to rest on your hip. She lent down, pressing a searing kiss to your lips, stealing your breath.

“I believe you mentioned something about devouring,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding your head, “uh huh.”

“Then I suppose I’d better take you somewhere else.”

She turned back to Candace.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

You couldn’t get out of there fast enough, practically dragging her out onto the street. She was laughing, low and throaty, and it was making your skin tingle. She held the car door open for you, the warmth in your heart like molten lava.

“So what were you talking to my student about?” she asked, the casualness catching you off guard.

“She had some opinions about our relationship,” you replied, “how many of your students have crushes on you?’

“Twelve.” Her eyes darted over to you before focusing on the road, “jealous, sweetheart?”

“Only because they’re able to watch you teach every week,” you said with a shrug, “if you’d been my professor that number would have been thirteen.”

“Lucky number thirteen,” she hummed, “Candace was trying to warn you off, then?”

“I suppose she thought she could get to me,” you said as her hand slipped onto your thigh, “she was wrong.”

“How did she think she was going to do that?” she asked.

“It’s not important.” You shook your head.

“How?”

You sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer.

“She said you were too old for me. Called our relationship a midlife crisis.”

“And what do you think?” Her voice was being too careful and she was staring at the road.

“I think we’re perfect the way we are,” you replied, “and I wouldn’t change anything about you. I’ve never been happier than I am with you.”

Her eyes darted to you then back to the road again. You threaded your fingers through hers, still resting on your thigh. She gave them a squeeze.

“But do you know what I’m more interested in than your student?” you asked.

“What, sweetheart?”

“All the ways you’re going to devour me when we get home,” you said.

Her fingers tightened and her eyes darkness.

“Oh, my darling girl. I hope you didn’t have plans this evening. You’re going to be busy until tomorrow.”

Tags: @trippol-threat​​​ @theclassicgaycousin​​​ @prentiss-theorem​​​ @nightmarish-fae​​​ @storiesofsvu​​​ @rustyzebra​​​

#alex blake #alex blake x reader #alex blake imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine

[slasherrcentral]

Run, Rabbit, Run — Bo Sinclair. (18+)

Summary: after attempting to run away from him again, maybe you will finally learn your lesson this time around.

Note: this is so fucking filthy and i’m not the least bit sorry for it, bo sinclair has fully rotted my brain. please don’t read if you are sensitive to any of the triggers involving violence, stockholm syndrome, spit and blood or talks of murder. this is some shit below the cut and viewer discretion is very much advised.

Dedications: the wonderful @visceravalentines for inspiring this work with her fic “I’m so dirty, babe” because it’s changed my entire life. and also to the beautiful @bosinclairz , who inspires me to have a blog even half as cool as theirs. thank you !!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Warnings: predator/prey play, name calling and abuse, heavy stockholm syndrome implications, spitting, blood, choking, bdsm elements, topics that elude to past murders, slight voice kink ( if you squint ) ( not even if you squint ), extremely heavy and violent sexual content.

The morning air was frigid while your bare feet pattered against the concrete, your breath leaving your chest in heaving, tired gasps. He was right behind you, the tell-tale pattering of old, worn out black work boots was as clear as the day you’d stumbled into the tiny, vacant town of Ambrose, when he had to chase you down for the first time after discovering his horrible, malicious intentions. You’d been so stupid then, too naive and entirely too trusting. His low, sultry drawl had given you a false sense of contentment. Those piercing, wild blue eyes had drawn you in like bee’s to honeysuckle. He’d even gone as far as to call you darlin’, that wolffish grin peeking out behind sharp canine’s as his eyes scanned your figure, making you fidget in place. Denim shorts, white spaghetti strapped tank with a crimson red bra visible underneath the flimsy cloth. You should’ve ran right then and there, should have found something to clobber him over the head with. But you didn’t. You’d been begging for it then like you’re begging for it now.

“Run, little rabbit! Run!” Bo laughed manically behind you, sending a series of chills down your spine. He was taunting you now, always taunting and menacing. His disease lusted for the chase, for the terror he inflicted upon you. The deep, rumbling chortles and your pants were the only sound ringing through the abandoned, haunted town. Nobody was coming to save you. There was nobody for miles and miles. You should know, you tried to escape him before. Look at where that got you, restrained in an old medical chair and tortured for two weeks straight with no reprieve from your misery. Your body was still blanketed with scars from that incident, constant reminder’s of who you slept next to at night.

You could still feel the stitched up wounds, courtesy of Vincent, on your inner thighs, rubbing against the denim of your washed jeans, blue jeans that had belonged to another girl before you, a girl that had thought she could escape too. Her worn, tattered Polaroid picture was still hanging up inside of Bo’s makeshift workshop. It was taken not long before he’d grown tired of her whining, and put her out of her misery with the sharpened blade of his hunter’s knife. You wanted to rip up that picture, chew it to pieces and spit it out on the ground. You did not like the idea of him still looking at her after you fell asleep at night, when your hole was of no further use, thinking about all the things that he did to her.

He was right, when he’d spat in your face that you never learn, duct tape digging viciously into your wrists. You didn’t think he’d be in the house this morning, didn’t think he would catch you making a bee-line for the open porch door. But he did, and now you knew, he was not going to make the same mistake again. You were dead. Another poor soul forever incased in wax, just like all the others, and you could practically hear them laughing at you as well. Stupid, stupid girl. Thinking you ever even had a chance. Stealing a glimpse over your shoulder, he looked murderous. Pointed, narrowed blue eyes burning into the back of your head. His top lip was curled up into a snarl, growls burrowed deep in his chest, canine teeth exposed to the dewy morning air. You knew Bo wasn’t running as fast as he could be, choosing to make a fun little game out of this instead. You hated his games. It’s because of them that you’ve almost been killed, strung up from the ceilings with ropes and leather straps as he took his careful time ruining your body. A body that was no longer yours — a body that he molded to his darkest, most unfathomable desires.

You were tired. You wished he’d kill you, get it over with once and for all. Vincent would make you look beautiful again, maybe he’d put you in the movie theater, where you could always watch a film. Where you’d never, ever be alone again. Where you could fade into nothingness. Where you could forget about how pitiful you were and how disgusting it was for you to love the very man who stole everything from you. Your goals, ambitions, drive for the future. You’d been on your way back to campus from your spring break trip when your car broke down, leading you here. Leading you to him. Hell, you’d even heard your name on the radio some months ago. Your parents were looking for you, your friends are worried, your teachers insisted that it wasn’t like you to vanish. Bo had laughed when he saw the tears on your cheeks, spitting that they’ll never find you here, that you’re his.

In a move that surprised the both of you, and because the little spitfire that Bo came to adore so much is still buried somewhere deep down inside of you, you hook your heels into the gravel and duck to the left, where a house was awaiting your heady arrival. Slipping on the morning muck—you crash right in front of the steps, a pained groan leaving your chest. Get the fuck up now, he’s right behind you, are the only two things your mind kept shouting. Despite your gasps for air and the pain, you manage to dodge Bo just as he gets within’ arms length of you. He leered at you, twisting to follow you up the stairs and into the shabby, white house. You’d flung yourself into the residence, pressing your frame against the door. It doesn’t have a fucking lock, you’re fucking stupid to think that it did. Barreling all of your weight against the door, which wasn’t much because you’ve lost a considerable amount since arriving here, sustaining a diet of eggs and sandwiches. Your teeth rattled within’ your gums as Bo pounded on the front door behind your aching back, screaming expletives, demanding that you open it up or he’ll carve you like a thanksgiving turkey.

“You’re really in for it now, little bunny.” He huffed out a callous chuckle. And then like rumbling thunder on hot summer nights or heat lightning cracking in the air, he slammed up against the door with his elbow. You’re whimpering now, scanning the house for an exit, but it seems like there’s none. There is, however, a staircase. Hearing the wood split, knowing that he was getting in, you slipped away from the door and made a run for the stairs. He was inside in a matter of moments, his chest heaving and his fists clenched tight at his sides. You’re certain that he’s going to kill you. You’d die here, in the little sad house on the corner, staring into those ocean blue eyes all the while. You hoped that when he does it, that he looks at you. That he see’s you, one more time, and that you’d sit with him for the rest of his days. It’s the very least that he could do for you. You bolted, his glare burning into your back, clambering up the stairs.

It took no time at all for him to reach you, wrapping a meaty fist around your bruised, scarred ankle. You’ve screamed, you’re sure of it, throat burning and warm, wet tears streaming down your cheeks as you began sending hard kicks behind you— hoping one of them would land. One had to land. Had to give you time to make an escape from his rage. “Let me go right now, you fucking psychopath! Let me go! I hate you, I hate you and this fucking haunted town so fucking much!” You’re rambling now, jumbled and frantic. He laughs, that bastard laughed at your hysteria—dragging you down the stairs, slowly now, one at a time. Taunting, always taunting, his malice gave you enough time to send a brutal kick right at his nose. Your kick landed, right on the bridge of his prominent nose. He yelped, surprised for a fraction of a moment, then he roared. Blood poured from the wound, dripping onto his tee, down onto the dirty, blue carpet below. You gaped, waiting, terrified. And when Bo’s gaze fixed back on yours, you knew that you were in for a world of pain. You’d knocked his favorite truckers cap off his head, made him bleed his own blood. Good, you thought. Means you hadn’t lost every piece of your soul—yet.

“You wanna play fuckin’ games with me, sugar? We’ll play, then. Disobedient little bitch, forgettin’ all of the manners I’ve taught you.” Before you had any time to prepare for the blow, he sent a monstrous kick with a steel-toed boot directly to your rib cage. You gasped, couldn’t help it, your lungs attempting to suck in the sweet air that had just been knocked from you. Your head was swimming— small mewls leaving your lips, sputtering out some thick coughs. “Look at ya, poor thang. Writhin’ around, helpless and achin’. Soundin’ sweet for me, singin’ like a bitch in heat down there.”

You were flung onto your back, eyes wide and scared, still dazed from the blow to your mid-section. Bo’s on top of you within’ mere moments, hands now latched tightly around your throat. You’re squirming under the weight of him, heels digging into the carpet and your mind beginning to haze over. It was brutal, you were almost certain that your eyes were going to pop out from their sockets if he pressed down any harder. He was showing sick, twisted restraint— you hated him, hated him so much for it too. He could just end your misery and get it over with. He could extinguish that inferno that builds up inside of your gut when you’re sitting in the passenger’s seat of his truck, windows down and taking in the breeze on back road’s, sandy curls that framed the nape of his neck swaying in the wind, pillowy pink lips curled into a grin as you sang along, obnoxiously, with whatever song he’d chosen.

Or when you’re both in bed, crushed against his chest, strong hand clasped against the swell of your hip bone whilst the other cradles a cigarette and he’d murmur praises in your hair and the crickets sang outside your window. Or when he made you true Louisiana cuisine, snapping at you to stop munching on his goddamned vegetables and grab him a beer from the fridge. When you did, he’d kiss the crown of your head. You needed, desperately, to get away from him. You’re in love with him inconsolably so, to the point where it’s killing you, right here and right now.

He let go. He fucking let go of you and then wrenched calloused fingers into your mouth, hooking the long, ringed digits over your bottom teeth and under your tongue, pulling down with such force that your head rattled. Your mouth popped open—slick and waiting, sobs bubbling in the back of your throat. His iris’ are pitch black now, the dark has swallowed up the light, primality glinting in pools of midnight hues. So busy gasping for air after his attack on your neck, Bo was anything if a man of true opportunity. He hadn’t yet made up his mind what he was going to do with you, what he would have to do to break you. You noticed gears turning in his head, pillowy pink tongue jutting out, running across his bottom lip. He wanted to hurt you, he was going to .. but there was something else, something that you couldn’t quite pin.

“Keep that fuckin’ filthy mouth open, ya hear?” Bo’s leaned down now, snarling into your ear, the smell of sweat and blood swimming in your nostrils. It was so overwhelming, so intoxicating. Made you burn down below, made you wither into yourself with shame. “I don’t wanna have ta’ ruin this perfect little face, that beautiful little mouth. My cock has always looked so good nestled in that throat, don’t ya think so, sugar? Makin’ me hurt ya’, thought ya’ knew better by now.”

A white glob of his spit pushed past his lips; dangled past his chin, slowly lowering into your plump mouth, one of his personal favorite assets on you. Now you’re squirming again, keening at him, a silent beg to cease his infernal teasing and sink his knife into your throat, but you should’ve known. He wouldn’t let you go that easily, not without proving his point first. His saliva’s drooling into your mouth — sliding it’s way down your throat and you’re swallowing it without any command, with meticulously trained obedience, courtesy of the man currently pinning you down to the dirty floor. He was smirking again, tongue poking out to wet his lips, and sanguine curls sticking to his damp, tan forehead.

“That’s fuckin’ right.” He crooned, “There’s my good, dumb little baby. Just how I want ya’. Don’t need one thought in this pretty head.” And then he backhands you, sharp and fierce. It busted your lip, throws your head to the side, makes you cry out in terror as pain radiates in your cheekbone. One hand made a quick work of hooking into your jaw again, keeping meaty fingers pushed invasively into your tongue while the other slid into your flimsy underwear. It hurt so bad, those fingers in your mouth and pushing against the newly opened wound on your bottom lip. And it felt good, too. So fucking good. He made a house inside decay and rot, and you lived there with him, singing songs on the radio and making breakfast in his shirt. Those wax figures were all laughing at you now, you could hear them. You were filthy, utterly grotesque.

Two calloused, rough fingers were on your clit. You’re strained and babbling into his hand, whimpering like some bitch in heat, as Bo so kindly put it. His deep, thundering groans does nothing to help your current state, only aiding your back in further arching, heart thudding wildly against his own. Slow, slicked circles around your swollen bud sent you reeling, exhausted legs still kicking underneath of his weight, white dots speckling your vision. His fingers were still locked on your jaw and stuffed inside of your mouth, and when you’d whined at him again because you felt like your teeth were giving way to his brute strength— he had taken his hand out of your battered mouth to send a ferocious slap to the same cheekbone as before. Bo knew that it would only hurt more that way … it did.

“B-Bo! Stop, p-please, just fucking kill me!” You cried, fingers digging into his white v-neck, as if attempting to anchor yourself into him, into that moment. Sticky, warm tears were freely flowing now, and he leaned in your face to lick them off your bruised cheekbone. He always did love how quickly bruises blossomed on you, like paint to canvas. His breath, always so hot and wet, invaded your rattled senses. Then, all at once, he sinks two fingers into your core, giving you no time to adjust before setting a brutal pace that had your legs shaking, your head thrown back against the staircase. “Stop Bo, stop, stop! F-fuck, I can’t take it! Please, please!”

“I know you’re lyin’ to me, angel.” He kissed your inner earlobe—sloppy wet kisses careening down your neck, before he stopped at your jaw to bite down. It hurt so bad, the skin breaking, your moans turning into sharp, bellowing shouts of agony. The dig of his fingers were keeping you grounded, expertly finding the sweet spot inside of your body like all the times before, calloused fingertips rubbing into the sponge of your g-spot and pulling an animal-like wail from the back of your throat, hips wrenching in an attempt to throw him off. “Christ, this cunt is fuckin’ droolin’. Makin’ a big ‘ole mess. You don’t know what to do with yourself whenever ya ain’t gettin’ stuffed fuckin’ full, do ya? Fuckin’ empty inside, needin’ somethin’ to scratch that itch.”

Tears continued blurring your vision- chest heaving as you struggled to intake enough air underneath of Bo’s braun. Your heels have stopped digging into the filthy, dusted blue carpet beneath your feet. Your fingernails have stopped assaulting his neck and chest, leaving a litter of angry, crimson red welts and scratches behind, which had only seemed to spur him on. His lips found yours, another all too familiar occurrence, gnashing of tongues and teeth and blood and spit and regret and stone-cold hatred and unspoken love all at once, your peak lurking dangerously close to the surface. He was right, always right. You needed him, needed this. You craved it, actually, and the realization only made your tear ducts well up more. When he broke away, he was feral looking as he loomed above you. And when Bo’s lips pursed to send another big, white glob of his spit directly into your face; spittle hitting your sore cheek, chapped lips and bruised chin, you screamed out for him, fingers digging into his back and arching off the floor with a steady groan, eyes rolling in your skull as wave after wave of euphoria overtook your body. His teeth were digging into your collar bone now, tearing skin and growling like a rabid dog, his arm was under your back and holding you against him as the rest of your orgasm has turned you into a mewling, squirming mess in his tight hold. Like a little kitten, you thought, trying to wriggle free from grasp and scamper off into the woods.

“Right there, angel. Jus’ like that. Feels so good when you’re cummin’ all ‘over my fingers, don’t it, my sweet girl? Almost made me forget about your punishment.” His southern drawl, filled with false comfort and low, rumbling honey, turned venomous again. “I’m gonna fuck ‘ya into the ground now, little bunny. When I get done with ya, maybe you’ll finally fuckin’ understand exactly where this sloppy cunt belongs, after I fuck it stupid. Not that you need any fuckin’ help with that.”

You were thrown onto your stomach, head smacking against the staircase and making you simper in pain; although, not as much as the hard knee pressing into your spine suddenly did. You cried out, legs aimlessly flailing once again. You could hear him making hasty, frantic work of his black leather belt behind you, and grumbled curses leaving his blood-stained lips. Your entire body was sore and stinging, eyes filled up with tears and dried tears staining your purple and yellow cheekbones. Your lip was split, your cunt was aching, sputtering and clenching around nothing, your spine threatened to give way underneath the weight of his clothed knee. “I-I’m so sorry, B-Bo! Please, please, I won’t ever run from you again!”

And when you heard the metal buckle release, before that same belt looped around your hands — securing them to the small of your back, you felt the weight of Bo’s love for you. He didn’t want to kill you, he didn’t want you to leave him. He couldn’t fathom what he’d ever do without your scrambled eggs and toast thats always just a little too burnt in the mornings, without your pattering footsteps behind him while he worked about Ambrose, always lingering and always wanting, eager for any chance to be near him. Or without your perpetual, infuriating kindness, how you’d cradle the nape of his neck and press kisses to his sweaty head, whispering in his ear how good he is, how he’s worth something. No, he couldn’t kill you, couldn’t ruin this, but he could make it hurt— he’d always make it hurt. Snarling, he took his boot off of your spine and made quick work of shedding your denim jeans and undies, pulling them down your legs with jarring force. You’d arched back into him without realizing it, seeking his warmth and his embrace. He laughed at you— again, reaching down to pull himself free from the confined black slacks around his waist.

“Ya ain’t sorry for nothin’ yet, angel.” He made a noise similar to annoyance in the back of his throat, “But ya will be, that I can promise ‘ya. If ‘ya wanna act like yer some disobedient little mutt with no fuckin’ common sense or house trainin’, forgettin’ what i’ve taught ‘ya, that’s how yer gonna get fucked.” With one big hand pressing in between your shoulder blades, whilst the other found purchase underneath of your waist, Bo’s cock was pressed up against your heat. Your stained face was pressed down into the carpet, which smells soured and stale from years of abandonment. You’re holding your breath, still trembling, waiting for Bo to sheath himself inside of you. “Here I was, fixin’ to be sweet on ‘ya tonight for being so good ‘fer me lately, only to find my angel tryin’ to run away. Mama must have been right, i’m a damn fool. You wanna break it, darlin’? Break this old heart of mine?”

You sobbed into the carpet—fingers digging into the fabric. You felt guilty, felt so damned guilty. It’s part of your sickness, part of who you are now. You never wanted to hurt him, even when you had opportunity, even when he made you bleed and scream and beg. Never wanted to know a world without him, without ocean blue eyes and calloused hands and the smell motor oil left behind on his clothes. If you ever were found, a therapist would tell you that you have what normal people call Stockholm Syndrome. All of your friends would plead with you to see reason and stop thinking about him. Your parents would want him to spend his life in prison. And all the while, you would dream of being back here with him. You’d be in that small cell with him, refusing to leave his side. You’re filthy, and fucked up, and dirty, belonging all to him.

Your tongue wanted to stick out childishly, at all the ghosts who’ve been taunting you since your arrival; wanted to tell them all to shove it. He was yours, he cared about you. You had him in a way that nobody would ever have him again. You ruined him just like you’re ruined now, bound together by your vileness, something not even Trudy could say from her grave.

“N-no! I never want to break your heart, please,” You didn’t know what you were pleading for, pushing the warm clench of your pussy into the head of his cock, “Bo! I need you, I need you so bad, p-please fuck me hard and make it hurt! I-I need it to hurt please, sir.”

The levee broke. Bo slid into your wet, willing hole with an ease that was almost embarrassing. Almost. This is where you were meant to be, right here- pinned under the man who you loved more than life itself, even if it’s never going to make sense again, even if it’s so wrong. Even when you felt him push your body into the carpet, even more so than it already was, his breath steady on your goosebump-ridden back as he gains his bearings, hissing through clenched teeth at the feeling. You held your breath, wanting to savor the sound, knowing that it’s your body that makes him lose his composure. His ringed fingers dug painfully into your shoulder blades, but you didn’t mind. Your face was smushed down into mildew-coated carpet, and you still didn’t mind. You’d pry open your chest and wrap your fingers around your still-beating heart, handing it over to him if that’s what he wanted from you. When he grants you with another bone-shattering thrust, hard and deep, stopping for a moment to grind his pubic bone into the flesh of your ass, you snapped back to reality with a loud wail, that bounced from the walls of the small home and makes Bo’s pillowy top lip curl up into a pleasured sneer.

“That’s my fuckin’ angel. My good fuckin’ girl, always ready to be pumped full ‘o me, aren’t ya?” That damn southern drawl, you could live inside of it if he’d allow you to. You nodded, the best that you could with your face shoved so brutally into the floor. But that wasn’t good enough, not for the man behind you. Bo’s thick, veined hand took mercy on your shoulder blades and grabbed a fistful of your matted hair, whilst the other locks itself around your waist in an iron clad grip that made drool start pooling in the corners of your dried, cracked open lips. “Speak up when I’m talking to ‘ya, girl. Won’t bother sayin’ it twice, either. Use ‘yer cute little lips and start singin’ pretty for me, sugar.”

“P-please, sir! I need it so bad, need to be full of you, need to be yours! Please, fuck me, please!” You were absolutely wrecked before he even started, babbling directly into the carpet while his hand held your face there by your hair, scalp stinging so pleasantly, your mouth drooling and hanging opened, waiting for yet another sticky, wet surprise from his mouth. And he began fucking you, in earnest, balls slapping against your ass with a volume that should be disgusting, so damned raunchy that it could’ve hit top views on the latest porn channel. You couldn’t get enough, didn’t want to ever get enough — wanted to feel that cock, always so thick and angry, plunging into your achin’, soaked little hole for the rest of your life.

“Right there, sir! Oh, fuck yes!” You’d moaned into the creaking staircase—your body moving on it’s very own accord, pushing yourself back against his brutal thrust, desperate for any release that he we going to give you; crimson blood still leaking from his nose and falling on your bare back with little droplets that makes your toes curl into themselves, cracking at the bone. There was a prominent warmth in your belly, a dam that was sheer minutes away from breaking, a heat that made the chill, morning breeze seem piping hot. You’re clinging to the surface, grasping at whatever purchase you can find on the floor, screaming for him like a banshee. He felt too good, he felt so good, and you wanted to kill him for it, make him bite down on your rage and on your searing, weightless devotion to him. Get a taste of his medicine, make him bleed for your loyalty. He was pawing at you now, keeping you in place against him, driving his cock into you at a speed that should be considered brutality, hisses and low, thundering groans echoing. But you’re alive, your body on fire, your heart swelling.

“And If ‘ya really think that I’d let ‘ya slip away from me, you’re dead fuckin’ wrong.” Bo hisses into your ear as a coil began to tighten in your stomach. “Ain’t nothin’ on god’s green earth as sweet as this cunt and she knows who she belongs to. You’d just come back to me, baby, beggin’ me to take ‘ya back again. Thats if, ya don’t go blabbin’ to the pigs—like the fuckin’ bitch that ‘ya are.”

“I-I love you, Bo,” you’re sniffling into the floor, “Love you, so fuckin’ much. I’m not leaving- I need you, you make me so happy, sir.” You weren’t lying to him, and that’s the most devastating part. Bo hummed and he seemed pleased by your dramatic confession and the genuine sound of your voice, flipping you with a force that rattled your bones. You were dazed, whining and confused, the back of your head slapping against the staircase and further aiding your current state, all the white dots that danced in your vision returned, and it made Bo squeeze your inner thighs like he was trying hard to maintain his own composure, the sight of you reduced to nothing but a pliant, squealing little toy to use like a fleshlight was enough to make him tail spin.

Bo sits back on his broad haunches, pushing your thighs up against your chest and effectively folding you in half, before drilling into your core at a numbing pace that has your watery, puffed up eyes rolling back into your skull and screams that ran your throat ragged in seconds, the air between you both becoming so thick that you could practically taste it when you opened your mouth to keen for him, your hands reaching up to tangle in his tee-shirt, which you wanted to pull from his skin. He used the ball of his thumb to rub tight circles onto your clit, granting you one step closer to sweet, unabashed release. When Bo brought his hand up from his assault on your clit, to slap it without mercy, you began to spasm in his grasp.

“Keep those fuckin’ eyes open,” He snapped down at you, “Look at ‘ya, filthy fuckin’ bitch. Spread wide for me, cummin’ all over the carpet. You feel that, angel? Feel ‘yerself creamin’ nice and hard ‘fer me?” You do, could feel it starting in your toes, splintering it’s way through your body, spurting at the seams. You were delirious with pleasure— could hardly manage more jumbled whimpers and pleas for his mercy, for what heaven he’d be willing to give to you in this little hell, something that would be yours to keep.

“Y-yes, sir! It feels so fucking good,” You wheezed, “I’m gonna cum, sir! I’m gonna cum!” Jaw slackened, eyes squeezed shut, toes curled up, fingers bunched up into his old work tee-shirt. Your orgasm was a violent thing, turbulent and licking up your spinal cord. You felt your sticky, hot release spill down your thighs and onto his thighs, the wet clapping of your skin meeting his own sounded akin to the sweetest music you’ve heard, the symphony of your bodies colliding with a passion that you’d never, ever known before. Bo groaned, his peak wasn’t far behind, lurking just underneath the surface, his head lulling backwards to stare up at the cracking, white water-stained ceiling. This has to be his heaven, his own place of worship nestled between your thighs.

“Baby,” Bo’s body folded over your own, lips closed on your neck, red hot kisses left in his wake. “Gonna cum, gonna fill ‘ya up. Mark ‘ya from the inside out. ‘Ya ever pull this shit on me again, I’ll slit that fuckin’ gorgeous throat ‘an bleed ‘ya out like a snuffed deer. Hear me?” When Bo kissed you again, smooth as butter, tasting blissfully of copper and cigarettes — you hooked two trembling legs around his waist and pulled him deep, your hands finding purchase in his damp curls. Curls that you wanted to root your fingers through forever, anchoring yourself to him. You loved him, wanted to burrow into his skin and stay there for good.

“I-I hear you, sir! I’m so sorry, p-please forgive me Bo, wanna be so good for you.” You hiccuped, “Wanna be your angel. Please, let me be good for you, daddy. I’m empty without you, make it feel better.” It wasn’t very often that you flipped the daddy switch, made him so hot under the collar. But when you did, you knew you had him right where you wanted him. His groans, the resounding grumble that vibrated deep in Bo’s chest, was confirmation that you had him on a wire. There’s nothing left to do but send him teetering on the edge. When your hips came up to meet his thrusts, you did exactly that, wide eyes staring up in awe as his damp, disheveled frame succumbed to bliss.

“Jus’ like that, sweet girl, fuck!” Bo clenched his teeth, brows furrowed in concentration and head lulled while spurt after spurt of his spend painted your walls in the essence of him, marking his territory, making sure you understand who you belonged to. This was his, no one else’s, not even yours. After he collapses on top of you, panting and thoroughly exhausted from the chase you put him through and from fucking you into the carpet; he placed little, gentle kisses on your chest, up to your collar bone and neck line before finding your sore lips.

“Never run from me again, angel.”

“I won’t.”

With the world waking up outside and basking you in a glow of golden hue, you smiled up at him through dark, crimson blood stained teeth and when he returned the same smile back to you— his bloody canine’s showing, you know that you weren’t lying to him.

author’s note:

how are we doing? are we okay? yeah, me either. thank you all so, so much for reading! i have a lot more of ‘ole Bo sitting in my draft’s, more to come from yours truly.

#bo sinclair #brian van holt #horror #slasher #house of wax #bo sinclair brain rot #bo sinclair x reader #gore #blood #house of wax 2005 #house of wax fanfiction

[lizhly-writes]

Hello— ORV whump prompt because I’m Thinking So Many Things and want to see what cool authors like you think about it!

Scenario fic: one member is brought back to the event that led to the first meeting between the party. Of course it’s our Rat that disappears in a poof of sparkles, and of course KimCom think the first people to meet were KDJ and YSA so they rush to head to Minosoft… BUT!

a) on the way they pass a certain all boys school at Just The Right Time

b) LSK is there and knows the Truth and Freaks Out

c) they don’t find him in time and track him down when he’s on the verge of d**th

Dealer’s choice hehe!

hello! i finally sat down and started writing through this ask! i appreciate that you came into my askbox and immediately slammed the button on 'misery', always a fun time lol

anyway. i have ideas. unfortunately if i attempted to fully finished these ideas, you would probably see this ask either in a year with a full fic or in uh, never, so you get this.

There is a teenager.

She looks much like any other teenager bored out of their mind in class.  Chin propped up on one hand, other hand wielding a pan tapping out a distracted staccato on her notebook, perfectly in time with the tap-tap-tap of her foot, watching the blackboard up front but mostly watching the clock above it, waiting for everything to be done. 

She’s so sick of class.  Sitting in one place, trying and failing to listen to a teacher saying shit she doesn’t care about – ahhh, but she’s got to care about it, doesn’t she?  Gotta make sure she knows enough to score good on the CSAT, except that’s never going to happen because she’s got shit-for-brains, shit-for-grades.  At this point, wouldn’t it be easier just to drop out?  Who wants to live this kind of life?  Not her.  Not anyone else.  Who likes school?

…Yeah.  Jung Heewon was like that, as a kid.

“Hey, you,” Jung Heewon says.

That image of her younger self ignores her.  So does everyone else in her old middle school classroom.  The teacher drones on, uninterrupted – and it really is a droning, the kind of indistinct murmur you hear as background noise, only occasionally cut with actual lecture material.

Everything here is indistinct.  There’s a vague sense of blurriness about everything.  The faces of her teacher and the few classmates she remember are clear, or at least, almost clear.  Everyone else?  Faceless.  Unmemorable.

… Maybe that’s the point.

…

Yoo Sangah likes to think her memory is good, but truthfully, it’s hard to remember the faces of her middle school classmates when she hasn’t talked to them in years.  A few that she kept in contact with, sure, but everyone else, she’s likely to get wrong.

They’re in some kind of scenario space right now, and if the scenario is drawing things from her memory, that might be why everything is so… unclear.  Unreal, almost, the edges of reality soft instead of well-defined, only sharpening around her younger self as she files out of the classroom, chatting with – is that Ahn Minji?  Yoo Sangah hadn’t thought about her in years.

Things only get worse as they head outside. The younger Yoo Sangah is a beacon of clarity, but everything else is just fog, white and dense and casting a featureless pall over everything.

…No.  Wait.  Not quite.

…

Lee Hyunsung had taken some time to tear his eyes away from that boy he’d once been, talking to one of his seniors – “I guess I’m not really sure what to do.  I don’t have to think about it if I go directly into the military after high school, right?”  In the end, though, there wasn’t any use to paying attention to that sort of thing, not when he was alone.  He hadn’t entered the scenario alone, so where were the others?

Not in his school, he’d looked.  The only other thing he could do is go straight into that strange white fog, even if it meant he was walking blindly towards nowhere.

Except it hadn’t turned out like that.  In the backdrop of nothingness, he could make out a building, getting clearer and clearer as he ran towards it.  So well-defined – that had to mean something, didn’t it?  

…

Shin Yoosung pressed her nose against the glass of the window.  That building, the only one she’d seen in what felt like forever, was getting closer.  Maybe that was where the train would finally stop.

Maybe the train wouldn’t stop at all.

But no, that’d be weird, wouldn’t it?  There had to be an end to the scenario somewhere, and it couldn’t end if she was just stuck on a train that never stopped.  Or, well, maybe it could, but – the point.  The point was that the scenario had to have some way of ending it.  It couldn’t go on forever, that wasn’t any kind of proper entertainment at all.  That was just throwing an incarnation into an infinite commercial break, wasn’t it?  No dokkaebi would let that kind of scenario pass.

Yeah.  There had to be a way out, right?

[Ahjussi, are you there?] she sent up tentatively.  

Still nothing.  There had been nothing for a while.  But she had to keep trying, didn’t she?

…

Lee Gilyoung had been trying.

But there weren’t any bugs on this train.  Sometimes, he’d get the faintest impression that there was something there, and then – nothing.  If he could get a bug, any bug, he could – he didn’t know.  Scout.  Get some information.  Call a plague against anyone moving against him.  Something.

That was Plan A.  Plan A wasn’t working out, so he was stuck with plan B, which was this: if he kept running through this fucking train, he’d run out of carriages eventually.  He’d run into something eventually.  Maybe the conductor’s carriage, and then he could press some buttons and force it to stop, or maybe drive it into a building or whatever.

…

Yoo Joonghyuk pressed his hands into his eyes.

He’d really thought that he had died.  Ended regression three, back to the start at regression 4, back in that same train carriage all over again, and this time with a death he hadn’t even seen coming.

He’d died three times now, but the shock of it, even though it wasn’t real – hard to snap out of without a scenario in his ears telling to kill someone to live.

What had happened?  

There had been a scenario.  

He had been with his companions.  There had been a scenario, and Kim Dokja had vanished.  Then that subscenario had kicked in… what was it?

…  

[Sub Scenario  – Will to Survive]

Category: Sub (Personal)

Difficulty: ????

Clear Conditions: Help Incarnation, Kim Dokja, realize the will to survive.

Time Limit: ????

Compensation: ????

Failure: ????

…

Kim Dokja blinks.

He had the strangest feeling that he had forgotten something.  Something important.

…It can’t have been that important if he’s forgotten about it.  He’d already run through his list of things to do, anyway, not that the list was very long.  He supposed the right thing to do was to talk with somebody, but really, he had no one to talk to, so there wasn’t any point.

There was maybe Mother, but… no, she didn’t count.  He didn’t talk to her, he talked at her, and she never cared enough to give a response back.  If she, by some miracle, cared enough to be upset about what he was doing, then – well.  She could get over it.  There was nothing wrong with him enjoying the sunset.  There was nothing wrong with anything he did after that, either.

With that thought firmly in mind, he took one last breath of the air – cool, refreshing – and headed towards the edge of the roof.

#asks #anon #orv #kdjc #omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader #my writing #everything

[littlenighttales]

Spoilers up ahead for The Sounds of Nightmares, Chapter 5. Live thoughts as I listen through, so not necessarily entirely accurate. Afterthoughts in parentheses.

I got a surprising amount of attention on the last one from you guys, so I really appreciate that you enjoyed reading my thoughts (:

A Deluge of the Inevitable

So Otto says that Noone was being used by the Ferryman to speak? Last night, I dreamed I could fly. These are two entirely unrelated things. I just wanted to share.

Noone was right about still being sick. Tumor. So the water sickness was a type of cancer? I figured it was more in line with a more simple but harder to kill parasite.

Otto’s mentor had written that the key to reach the Nowhere could be fear.

“It’ll blossom year after year, just like you.”

Awwww, that was kinda sweet, Otto. But I still think you’re sus.

Noone wanting to open up about her parents. She sounds like she really needs hugs ):

Demands for no machines to be wired up to her.

CiCi is Otto’s sister? I guess Otto did mention it being a long time ago, but… still, I didn’t expect that. So the idea of Six having a big brother in canon is kinda wholesome, though now that I think about it, never thought of Six as British (rather, pictured her to be Japanese). That is still assuming CiCi=Six, though. With only one episode left, I’m not sure we’ll get any confirmation.

In Noone’s nightmare, there are a lot of other kids peeking down on her from above. She’s down in a tunnel.

Monster with a sack over his shoulder. Sounds like squeaking shoes. And rising sewage. How pleasant. Not a threat for now. Leech in the water?

Nope! Nome! :D Nome, Nome, yeah! *excited hand flapping*

There’s a girl delighted by the Nome, wanting to take it, maybe wanting to eat it. But Noone saves them, so that means she joins RK and Rain (and Frisk) in the Mushroom Friend Protection Club. Also dang, rich Nome living like a king.

Theme sounds a bit like the Lady’s theme for a brief second? Are we in the Maw? (Probably definitely not.)

The man that had carried a sack was wearing a rubbery suit. The sack was the back of his head. Spine deformed, whole body sounds like. The Janitor? Doubtful, from description, but possible. Noone mentions the place itself had deformed him. (Definitely not him, I’m just reaching here.)

Noone remembers the other kids- Jester, the kid with gooey hair, and Rusty. So Noone jumps from her hiding place to save the Nome. Kids above are probably porcelain bullies, or at least related in a way.

The monster has some sort of gadget to detect… something.

And the Nome tried to abandon Noone ):

Otto falls asleep- also my tablet wants to correct his name to potato. When she’s awake, Noone continues.

And a LOT of Nomes appear (:

But… a wave of sewage water comes blasting through, taking Noone away. The Ferryman appears now, though Noone isn’t sure he’s evil.

Also his voice isn’t what I pictured. Seems a lot more demonic than I pictured. Almost like Colony’s (Halo Wars 2 character, if anyone is curious) voice, with the reverb.

The kids in Little Nightmares seem to have some afflictions cured when they’re taken from how Noone talks. Their problems are gone. I’m assuming this is only disease, maybe some mental illnesses as well, but I doubt all. Mono still having a LOT of problems (damn you, Signal Tower).

Noone floats the idea that Otto might not be a good guy. Otto catches her ruffling around paperwork in his desk and straight up gets rid of her. He tells her a tumor is in her brain, kinda coldly. He’s definitely being a dick, but at least he reflects (that he was too harsh on a literal child. Noone is like seven or something, dude. You’re an adult. Act like it and have some hecking empathy and stuff.)

Otto theorizes that the tumor is a gateway to the bad place. But hearing his voice right now makes me want to punch him in the throat. My tablet was right to compare him to a potato.

Later, he watched her sleep. Hooks her up to those machines he promised against using. Her little voice….. )’:

“Otto… you promised….”

Why is this stories so darn heartbreaking?!

Noone’s nightmaring while Otto watches, the machine seems to be able to see an outline… then, Noone starts glowing like the sun and disappears (?)

Whatever Otto was watching watched back. Maybe it took him rather than her. That’s what he wanted, after all. And that’s it for this episode. (Could also be one of those laser eyes that turn kids to ash in the Maw and Nest. Maybe a proxy of the Eyes from the Signal Tower?)

So the fifth episode probably on episode 3 level of quality so far. I still think episode 3 was peak, so that’s pretty high comparison. Pretty close to a tie.

#little nightmares spoilers #the sounds of nightmares #episode five #spoilers #ln spoilers #A Deluge of the Inevitable

[platonic-activity]

Ignis Fatuus (Foolish Flame)

Rating: PG, NC-17 in some chapters

Category: Novel, X-Files Fanfic, Diverging universe

Spoilers: Up to Amor Fati

Click here for AO3

Chapter 3

The line only rings once before he answers in a rush

“Mulder”

“Mulder, it’s me.” 

“You’re back.” He states. She can hear rustling around on his end of the line. 

“I am. How are you?” She makes herself comfortable on her couch preparing to begin her lengthy questionnaire about his health. She wonders what types of questions she could sneak into the middle and trick him into answering. Have you felt any lightheadedness? Have you had a normal appetite? When was the last time you were sexually active? 

More rustling and the creaking of a door. “Mulder, what on earth are you doing?” 

“Scully, did you stop by my building earlier?” He asks, the sound in the background goes silent. 

Shit. She doesn’t ever lie to him. 

“I thought about stopping by on my way home from the airport but I am exhausted.” She says, scrunching up her face, hoping he lets it drop. It’s not technically an outright lie. 

A moment of silence passes and the sounds begin again. A thump followed by another thump. Sounds muffled and then sharp again. 

“To answer your question, I am going out.” He says muffled. She imagines he is holding the phone against his shoulder. 

Scully sits up straight “Mulder, you are two weeks out of brain surgery. You shouldn’t be out. You shouldn’t even be alone. Where are you going?”

“Well I have been alone for 5 days now and before that, you haven’t spent more than 10 minutes in my presence so I am performing a little experiment. I figured you would like this. It’s scientific. A sample size of one. Your favorite.” 

She feels guilt squeeze at her chest. She should have never taken that request for a consult in Chicago. 

He senses her reaction. “Relax, Doc. I am only walking to the market two blocks away. I’ll make it home. I promise. And before you start wondering if you should have stayed in DC, don’t. A field office in a city like Chicago would only request you if they are stumped. They aren't short of forensic talent. People are just starting to recognize that you are the best at what you do.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to this unexpected compliment. It’s not that she is insecure about her skills as a forensic pathologist or that she is valued by Mulder for the same. She hasn’t worried about that in a while. She’s just never heard him express it so bluntly. She relaxes into the couch. 

“Ok, I’ll bite.” What is this experiment with a sample size of one?”

“I am hoping that I can persuade you to stay in my presence for more than the time it takes to check a wound and run. I haven’t been able to sense anything from my neighbors for a couple of days. Before you left my barometer was you and my ability was waning then. I figure there will be a few people at Trader Joe’s. I want to see if I can sense anything. ”

She feels a wave of embarrassment at her inability to control her thoughts around him. “Isn’t that the new place that is always packed? Mulder, you don’t have to do that. I can come over.” 

“I’ll turn around if it starts to hurt my head or I feel overwhelmed. Plus I need something to eat that isn’t freezer burnt. I am suddenly craving what you call ‘real food’ I thought you would be pleased. Anyway, I have to hang up if I want to leave my apartment.” 

“Take your cell!” She nearly shouts. 

He chuckles in the low way he does when they talk on the phone late at night. The way she secretly hopes no one but she ever hears. “I never leave my apartment without my cell.” He says and hangs up. 

_____________

He is just leaving the elevator when his cell phone rings. He smiles despite himself. If pressed he would admit to feeling slightly abandoned this past week. He understands her reasons for being uncomfortable around him. It just so happens that they are the same reasons he suddenly feels like being in her presence is the best possible situation for him. She emanates unconditional love and he finds it addictive and unimaginably comforting. Her more romantically inclined emotions toward him aren’t bad either. 

“I just talked to you.” He teases. 

“I know. I know… just humor me.”  

He passes a fellow tenant on their way to the elevator. 

“Did you hear that?” He says. 

“Hear what?” 

“Exactly,” He says like he is leading her along explaining one of his theories. “I just passed that accountant who lives on the second floor but never uses the stairs. Didn’t get anything off him. Of course, he might just be a robot.”

“Mulder… I wouldn’t be able to… Nothing? Not even a feeling?” She feels hopeful 

“Not a thing yet.” He is walking along Wythe St. which is moderately travelled with a few restaurants and shops. He hasn’t walked closely to anyone yet. “Hey, Scully. I am going to call you back. I need to interact with someone and it’s rude to be on a cell phone at a cash register.” 

“Do you think that interacting with a cashier will be enough to tell?” 

“Have you ever shopped at Trader Joe’s? I’ll be lucky if I get out of there without knowing the person’s life story. Telepathy or not. I’ll call you back.”

He closes his phone and turns into the store. This store is weird, he thinks. He’ll probably end up with frozen food despite what he just told Scully. He sets out to grab a few things he needs and a couple of things he knows she would like. He genuinely hopes she will have some reason to spend a bit more time at his place soon. He buys a bag of popcorn, some coffee, and milk. He grabs some mixed nuts after some deliberation. Why would a store this small have this many options for nuts and trail mix? Should he buy eggs and toast? He doesn’t typically eat a big breakfast but he knows she makes the time to eat in the mornings. 

That thought pulls him into reality. Is he thinking about making her breakfast? Where in the hell had that come from? He needs to be careful. Knowledge of how she feels about him suddenly showed up in his mind a couple of weeks ago but he is living in a very different reality than she is. She doesn’t seem like the ‘move fast and break things’ type of person when it comes to romance. Not that they have ever talked about that sort of thing. If they did they might tempt fate. What the fuck is wrong with them?

He suddenly realizes he has been standing still holding a carton of eggs for much too long. He quickly puts the eggs back. Grabs a couple of premade salads, whole wheat cereal, and some microwave foods that contain veggies and makes his way to the register. He will stick with offering her popcorn, hopefully during a movie. 

Now that his task is over and he has stopped dwelling on Scully, he realizes his only thoughts since leaving Hegal place have been his own.  

___________

It feels like hours have gone by when Mulder finally calls her back. She has paced the apartment, boiled water for tea, forgotten to pour the cup of tea, flipped through the channels on her TV, and stared at the phone. 

She tries to not answer too quickly. 

“You should come over.” He says. That tone again. She gets a flippy feeling in her stomach. Has he always talked like that on the phone?

“Is everything OK?” She quickly asks. 

“Couldn’t sense a thing. The kid that rang me up is going to Georgetown. He has to work because his scholarship only covers his classes, not his living expenses…”

“Mulder…” 

“I laid down for a few minutes when I got back or I would have called you sooner.” 

“Are you fatigued? Do you feel like you might have a fever? Are you in any pain?” She asks, unable to keep the concern out of her voice. 

“I have been injured several times since I met you, Scully, and I haven’t died yet.” He says, irritation just slightly evident in his voice. 

“You’ve never had your brain cut into.” She says. And then left for dead she thinks. “I’m coming over.” 

#xfiles #scully #mulder #fanfic #the xfiles #ignis fatuus #mulder and scully

[selamat-linting]

living after experiencing sa is so weird like, the same piece of writing about assault could do nothing or it could send me into a week long spiral and its just a matter of dumb luck or pure chance that determines my brains' reaction to it. i've had moments where im legitimately triggered in the middle of re-reading something i actually enjoy as porn. over the years i figured it was because i had small triggers that are abstract or wasnt easily noticeable or doesnt feel like anything until its in the spesific context of sa. like being trapped in an enclosed space with strangers, begging to be sent home, being deceived, having your preferences and interests weaponized against you, the really lonely and painful walk home afterwards where no one comes to save you but maybe its better off this way since you dont want to be seen, those are things im particularly sensitive with. for example, a few years ago i got really messed up about this anecdote of a kid who got kidnapped by a neighbor for a few hours. he offered to see his cat and then lock them up in a room while theyre playing with said kittens. nothing actually happens but that made me legit depressed for a few days. while im fine talking with my friend about an incident where she got followed by a creepy guy who groped her while she's walking home. both situations are horrifying and bad ofc, but i cant exactly communicate or find an easy way to filter out the bad. like, i can handle hearing the graphic details, the bare bones account of what happens, but if it touches on how the victim was tricked or deceived or gets taken advantage of, even when its basically the least upsetting part, i just couldnt do it.

idk, maybe its because my experience was more in the mental stuff. yeah sure, it was only some groping, an almost kiss, and some sex talk. but the context was that i asked for help, someone friendly comes along, they say theyre just helping me but turns out they actually have ulterior motives. i was stuck in a car for hours to god knows where, fully knowing i was gonna get raped when the car eventually stops, trying to plead or at least delay it with someone i thought was a friend without being too harsh because i know they could do even worse things if i drop this thin veneer of friendliness we got going on. and all the while this asshole kept touching me in spots i didnt even realize was a sensitive place for me and i had to keep a straight face the whole time because if they see a hint that i liked it, its over. did i like though? yeah. do i want it? fuck no. never in a million years. and i felt betrayed because im supposed to have that moment of discovery with a boyfriend or a girlfriend and it was supposed to be nice and comforting but its not. and i might associate gentle touches with this forever. and there's also a part of me that said, hey somebody wants me. dont you want to be wanted? i might as well enjoy it because no one's gonna offer me hot car sex like this. i should try to get myself wet! this is a new experience that i should just see the bright side of. im supposed to be a kinky slut right? i just turned 20. and after all, i promised myself, after the first time i had my sa as a kid, the next time it happens im gonna fight. and what am i doing right now? i'm just running my mouth. im laughing at my soon to be rapists' joke and i tell him we should meet up later instead of doing everything right now since i had work later in the day. this isnt fighting, its bargaining. and all the while im wondering if i look pretty while im doing this. i hope i look pretty. im just wearing sweatshirt and pajama pants. this is sick, why do i want to look good while im sexually assaulted?

i never told this to anyone except a friend. but even she didnt get the whole account. she just know it happens. its the part that actually upsets me that i didnt tell her. the whole violated trust thing. and how dumb i am for instantly accepting help from an acquaintance i dont even know that well. and what happens after the car stops. all she knows is that when it stops, i pushed him off of me and i left the car and run.

to her it just seems like im valiantly fighting off an asshole. she didnt know that after i ran, a bunch of men saw me running. they asked me if i need help. they were kind. but i thought of the hassle of reporting to the police, being grilled with questions, have my entire behavior scrutinized, and my parents vacillating between unhelpful anger or chastising me for being so trusting and eventually isolating me because i cant be trusted to exist in a public space without being harassed and god i dont want to miss work today and theyre gonna ask why if i had to miss a day and theyre gonna know too. so obviously i shut up. i couldnt say anything. the fuck who assaulted me came, and get this, i went back to his car. i didnt sit next to him, i was sitting at the backseat, and he was angry and yelled at me the entire time while driving me back to the closest bus station. i didnt say anything, and i actually paid him money before leaving. i was a coward.

in hindsight, what happens after the next few month after that was just me trying to compensate for the shame and utter incompetence i felt. i thought i was good at being confrontational and assertive, but when it actually matters, i cant speak. it was awful. i mean, it was a moment of self improvement, i did evolve from being an awkward self-important debate kid to an adult who relies on being good with persuading people for a living. im proud of that. but the feeling of helplessness still remains. im still afraid that when it happens again, i'd just clam up like usual. even though i already successfully fend off several people trying to fuck with me before anything that bad ever happens because im a hot saleswoman now. it felt weird calling myself a victim or a survivor because, it just happens. i didnt survive shit nor do i want to be a victim. i dont want to be pitied. and i dont want to be called brave or anything because im anything but.

except that everytime something reminds me of my sa incident, i kept having this urge to tell somebody, and i'd wrote a long paragraph detailing everything that happened including all of the uncomfortable details that didnt make me look good as a victim. and then i'd delete it before sending because its not good to tell your personal triggers online right? but i have no one i want to talk about this irl. and i cant imagine any well-meaning response that doesnt make me angry. i kept thinking about it. if anyone acknowledged this happens to me, i have no socially acceptable response. im not sure if anyone could understand or be sympathetic. i mean, imagine someone told you a grave secret about them and then they get angry and throw a tantrum when you say youre keeping their secret to the grave. youre in the right to be angry and confused at them. and its one thing to write a retrospective like this, and its another thing talk about it directly. i wouldnt be self aware to control myself. i'd just ruin another friendship because i got pissed off for no discernable reason.

i dont really know where im going with this. i think i just wanted to get this out of my system. its been what? three years? im sick of keeping that shit in. i think i just need to talk about it, sort of like a confessional before moving on for good. anyway, your usual shitposting will resume shortly. bye bitch!

#sa cw #this is about my personal experience with it #and something about abstract triggers

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

I've gotta ask, obviously Marcus Pike is a dom no matter how you slice it, varying degrees, but still kinky in every version of him in every universe you've created him. Have you ever considered him being with a partner in a capacity that intended to be no strings attached, or even in a more formal kink setting like a bdsm club and finding his perfect match there? I'd love to know what versions of him you've imagined even if it's versions we haven't seen. You write him with so much heart and I just can't get enough. I will pay for crumbs of your Marcus content even the most fleeting or passing thought about him. Thank you for writing!

Oh wow, anon. I was trying to implement a "No new Marcus Pike ideas" rule for me so I'd be forced to branch out a little and then I read This Ask. I got this right before a 1 hour car ride so basically I had this idea rattling around in my brain for an HOUR and it's very possible there will be a fic of this at a later date but for the time being please imagine the following:

My first thought was that Marcus is asked to go undercover as a dom at a BDSM club for [insert Art Crimes reason here].

He plays dumb for the benefit of his colleagues but the truth is, he's intimately familiar with the concept. He used to go back in grad school, after all. It’s been a long time, but its not like those preferences... go away

He decides to go for the full "daddy dom" look and wears his suit (sans jacket) with his sleeves rolled up and too many buttons undone😏 and the effect is just 🤌🤌🤌

He's trying to just lay low and get the arrest (even though he's ITCHING to be involved and his brain is like 'hnnnnggg') but somehow he gets roped into doing a scene.

At first the sub he's paired with is like "haha nah" because of course Marcus looks SOFF(tm) and she's like "I need a dom who can make me cry and I am VERY hard to make cry."

(Most doms upon hearing this will go straight to heavy degradation and humiliation and generally that just pisses her off and does NOT make her cry)

But YOU KNOW that's not how Marcus rolls. Instead he fucking obliterates her with his belt, all the while whispering little praises and teases in her ear, telling her how perfect she is, how much he loves doing this to her, telling her he's not gonna stop until she's a crying mess, so she's gonna be a good girl for him, right?

He's like stroking her cheek so gently with one hand and causing exquisite pain with the other and it's so overwhelming that he DOES make her cry (and come)

Marcus KING OF AFTERCARE Pike dedicates an excessive amount of time tending to her afterwards and just talking to her softly and making sure she's okay

afterwards she's like WHAT THE ABSOLUTE SHIT and is understandably affected and has a lil crush and Marcus is also like "oh wow that's right I REALLY fucking like doing that" and he's super taken with her too, but...

He's got a case to focus on. And finally at the end of the night he's able to make an arrest and his sub from before sees and understandably feels lied to, and like ~angst~ happens and he convinces her it was DEFINITELY real for him. 💕

#marcus pike #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfic #okay you can probably expect this to be written at some point

[poedameronwifey]

A true home (The hobbit Fanfic)

Chapter 6

Kate's Pov

It was absolute chaos. There were dwarves everywhere. They were taking all the food out of the pantry and we just brought that. Not to mention, Ren is going to get hangry soon.

I stood out of the way as Dad tried to stop them. I'm surprised I haven't fallen yet. As I walked to where the girls were, one of the dwarves pushed past me and knocked me over. I closed my eyes and braced myself to meet the floor but strong arms wrapped around my waist. I opened my eyes and looked up to see Fili holding me to his chest.

I blushed like crazy. He helped me stand up straight and I thanked him before turning and walking quickly to my sisters.

"Ooh la la, someone's got a crush on a certain blonde haired dwarf. Do I hear wedding bells? Can we be the bridesmaids?"

Lilith kept smirking at me while Renée hummed the bride's march. I hit them at the back of their heads and told them to shut up. We looked at the dwarves and sighed at the mess they were making. That's gonna be a lot of food to clean up. We just leaned against the wall and watched them act like animals but it was pretty funny.

Renée leaned against me and I knew that she was done with socialising for the next few days. Balin looked at us with a 'why aren't you eating' look and we just mouthed that we didn't want to disturb them. He just chuckled and waved us over, showing the space next to us.

I informed the girls and we manoeuvred our way to where he was and sat next to him. Since Ren and Lilith already ate, I got some meat and salad because I didn't feel like eating too much. I finished my food rather quickly and looked around the table. Balin introduced us to all of them and vice versa. They were very sweet and kind to us.

"So you are Mr Baggins daughter. How did you meet these two?"

Gloin asked, causing everyone to look at us. I looked at Renée because she's the best person to handle this.

Renée's POV

"Well that's a story. Let's hope my brain wont shut down this time. Kat lost her mom when she was two and Bilbo thought she was dead but really she was taken to an orphanage. My family adopted her a year later. But all good things come to an end. My parents died in an accident, causing my older brother, Kate and I to go to the orphanage where we stayed for two years. Lilith's mom then adopted us when Kat, I and my brother, Tommy, were 9 and we lived with her until we were around 20. But then just last year she passed away so yeah that's our story. Been together since we were 6."

I explained as I held Kate and Lilith's hand. Lilith looked down when I spoke of Mama's death. She still hasn't gotten over it.

"And you brother. What happened to him?"

Ori asked. I looked down, letting a single drop before wiping it and looked at them.

"He was killed when we were 18. He was walking home from work when someone threatened him with a knife and tried to mug him but when he refused, the guy stabbed him and ran. He left Tommy bleeding out on the floor in an alleyway. We found out a few hours later."

Kate was trying to keep herself together but I know she was having lots of trouble but that was the last straw for Lilith. She got up and left. It was too much for her.

Lilith and Tommy were very close. Hearing us talk about him hits a nerve because she hasn't gotten over it. She wanted to kill the guy responsible. After we lost Tommy, we all gave up a bit. Lily sorted doing weed and drinking, basically anything you can think of so numb the pain, Kate stopped eating and lost her spark.

Hell, she even stopped drawing and slept until 11 in the morning. I began self harming and staying in my room. My marks slipped and I slept all day. Mama couldn't handle that so she did everything she tried to stop our unhealthy habits.

She managed to help me get help after I was found lying on the floor, bleeding out from cutting my wrists and attempting suicide. It also seemed to make Kate realise the situation so she got back into art but she isn't eating as much as she should have. Lilith was the only one who just ignored mama and kept doing drugs and drinking. She even began sleeping around and having one-night stands which we didn't comment on because we didn't really mind that just as long as she was being careful and safe.

It was only after mama got sick that she stopped. She does smoke but not as much as before and she cooled down on the drinking. After we lost mom, she was tempted to go back to her old habits but we stopped her. Her death is still so painful for us so we aren't really over it. But we're trying and that's what is important.

All of the dwarves just looked at us with sombre looks but we have accepted our reality. Kate and I excused ourselves so we could check on Lilith and we found her sitting in the living room. She looked at us.

"I'm feeling a lot better, you two. I just needed to get out. It was a bit too stuffy. I promise I didn't do anything. I just had a smoke."

She got up and walked to us, pulling us into a hug. We returned it and pulled away before doing a special handshake that we had. We walked back to where Bilbo was and let's just say he was pissed. He was complaining about the dwarves to Gandalf. Ori then came up to me.

"Sorry, I hate to interrupt, but where should I put my plate?"

Fili then came up to him.

"Oh here you go Ori. Here, give it to me."

He then threw it at Kili who caught it while having a pipe in his hand and threw it into the kitchen.

We looked at the stack of clean dishes and over mouths flew open,

"What the actual fuck? That was so cool. You gotta teach us. Imagine how quickly we'd get the dishes down. Ooh I can see it now."

Lilith was literally fangirling but she's got a point. That was fucking brillant. Gandalf laughed at our childishness. We then heard a knock on the door. The entire room became stiff and serious and we all looked at the door.

"He's here" 

Oh boy. Here we go. Lets just hope Lily doesn't try to kill the guy. Not like the dwarves will allow that. This is gonna be interesting. The last thing I need is having to bury someone's body in the back yard because Lily couldn't control herself. Plus we read the book ad watched the movies so we know what's going to happen but even now its still feels like we never know what's going to happen. I just need to remember that I cant fall in love with Kili. I cant risk ruining the events of the story. Besides we were brought here for a reason and I think I know exactly what it is. I just pray to God or whoever the fuck is up there, that we wont fail because I don't think I can handle anymore death. 

#the hobbit #kili #fili #the company of thorin oakenshield #dwarves #dwalin #balin #bofur #nori #dori #ori #gloin #oin #bombur #bifur #bilbo baggins #gandalf #Renee Griffin #Katherine Wolfe #Lilith Everdeen #Youtube

[esnyshire]

amateur PT. 3

summary: In part three of amateur we finally get to hear what goes on in Harry’s head. With a twist of course. Submitting is the last thing on his mind.

warning: nervous Harry, public sexual conduct, the support from Love, first time oral exploration, dom moments, Harry tries hard

wc: 4.8k

HARRY P.O.V

For the entirety of my shift, Love has been teasing me. Her soft touches all over my body, lingering in dangerous areas. I am being publicly tortured. I'm so wound up from her watching me earlier in the locker room and now her in that bikini is doing nothing to help calm me down.

Every move she makes is calculated, and she does it with a smile on her face. She's antagonizing me. She plays it off well, nobody noticing how seductive she's becoming as time passes in this crowded pool. Her skin is hot from the sun as it glides against my own, it's addictive the way she touches me. I never want her to stop, she makes me feel like I'm being slowly dragged to hell for all the nasty things I've daydreamed about doing with her while simultaneously ascending to heaven with how beautiful she is.

I'm still on shift, so I have to focus on the resident children swimming. Love is a constant distraction, I lose sight of her for a fragment of a second only to feel her swimming between my legs, grabbing my thighs and leaving soft nibbles on my skin.

At this point I want her to take me away from all these people and take advantage of me, to use me and abuse me. I'm entranced with the way she talks, so confident and unapologetic.

She's like a waterfall, pushing and flowing down the rough edges of the rocks, filling up every crevice and crack. Ive never wanted someone as much as I want her. Her words weave their way into every corner of my brain, taking over every one of my senses. Leaving no room for anyone else.

In the short amount time getting to know Love, I've noticed she barely talks to people. I'm also very aware she never actually spoke to the women she sat with all the times. It's humorous to have knowledge of what they've spoken of me so freely in front of her. Seeing us interact for two days straight must be a big shock to them. I haven't noticed because I can't even concentrate on anything else but Love. She is at the forefront of my mind, night and day. Her plush lips are softly brushing against each other as her words leave her mouth, while she converses with her friends. Her long dirty blonde hair is draped over her back as small droplets drip front the ends of it, leaving wet marks on the top of her exposed ass. She has a glow to her, her new tan accentuating her toned dancer body.

That's one new thing I've learned about her, she's a dancer and a damn good one. I also learned that she has a dance partner.

I'm not mad cause he's male, that would be childish of me. I'm more focused on him touching her, and her enjoying it. I don't think I can give her what she wants, I don't have it in me to take the lead. I can't even imagine me doing the things she's done to me, I think I would pass out from the pressure of it all. I want to, so badly that it physically hurts me to know someone can please her in ways I can't.

I barely know her and already can't stand the thought of someone getting her the way I have, a tight burning feeling forms in the middle of my chest just thinking about it. She's enigmatic to the point where I find myself ready to show her exactly what I want to do to her, and I've never taken control of anything in my life.

I watch her walk around mingling, smiling, and laughing with her friends. I can't help but wonder if she would ever let me take control if I decided to. She seems to be dominant, in almost every aspect of her life. Even though I'm on the clock I've been watching attentively. Her friends rely on her a lot, to keep the conversation going, or else they would be lost. Wherever she goes they follow.

It's mesmerizing.

The pool closes in five minutes, which means I get to be alone with her again.

I need to prepare myself for Love. I never know what she's going to do or say. My palms are sweaty and my heart is beating so fast I feel it could jump out from my chest. I have no control over my body as I make my way to the lockers. My  legs begin to go numb, it's like millions of needles are poking me with every step I take. I search for her in the crowd of people leaving, when my eyes land on her rage boils in my stomach. She is hugging her partner.

He wraps his arms around her waist and hoists her off her feet, a squeal leaves her lips as she smiles the biggest smile I've seen since I met her. I don't normally get mad so easily, but seeing her be playful and touchy with someone else only makes me want to take control even more. I need to show her that I'm willing to do certain things. I turn around before she can see I'm watching and make my way to the lockers.

It's normal, I remind myself. It's okay that I'm not experienced. She's okay with it, she finds a thrill in my willingness to give her the reins. I don't think she would've continued with her cat and mouse game if she wasn't okay with the answers I gave to her questions the first day she came into the locker room.

The turmoil within myself suddenly disappears, it wouldn't hurt to try something new with her, I feel comfortable. I remind myself how crazy I sound considering I just met this woman. But it's true and I'm not running from it. That doesn't come easily from me either, to trust someone so quickly the way I have with Love.

Love, what have you done to me?

I fumble with the lock to my locker and slow down my breathing. My mouth dries instantly when my ears register the slow creak of the door. I hear the pads of her feet lightly hit the floor as she makes her way to me. I lean my head against the cold metal and take a deep breath in. I don't know if I should be nervous or mad.

Maybe both.

Most definitely both.

I feel her hands run down my back, sliding to my sides and wrapping her arms around my torso. She's warm and her skin is so soft, a weird contrast considering she was in the cold chlorine water that should have made her skin cool and dry. She's an enigma, in all aspects. I can't get my head around her giving me the time of day, she's the polar opposite of me. She needs someone who can match her in every way possible and I'm so obviously not that.

Before I can think too hard about what I'm doing I reach for her left arm that is tightly wrapped around me and pull her to stand in front of me, she is taken off guard by my swift movement. Although I'm nervous and feel like I might pass out I smile a little, seeing a little bit of me in her right now. The look on her face pushes me to continue with my dominance. I take both her wrists and lift them above her head. I hold both wrists in one hand and pushing them against the locker. A rush of pressure surges through my body and goes straight to my dick. This feels amazing and I've barely done anything. I lick my lips, getting ready to speak, " I feel like you're doing all this on purpose"

"Wha-"

"I wasn't finished speaking." I cut her off as I bring my lips close to her neck, ghosting them on the cartilage of her ear.

"You walk around my pool, all confident and sexy. You suck me off in the locker room then act as if nothing happened. Is it that easy for you? Teasing me like that and you just walk away fine." I say putting some base in my voice, trying to hide the nervous shutters forming in my chest. I'm out of my depths here but this feels way too good to stop now.

"It's not easy," The tone in her voice is condescending, letting me know I was wrong in my thinking. "You are a sight, you know that Harry?"

She pushed her back off the locker, hands remaining confined behind her as her breasts press firmly against my chest. "Every time I leave this locker room, I'm dripping for you, my dirty boy." She smiles as she finishes her sentence, pleased with her new nickname for me.

"How come you never told me?" My curiosity gets the best of me and I start to slip into my submissive behavior as she tries to take control again.

"It was for you to enjoy, not me. You needed it more." A thin layer of water coats her eyes like she's in pain being constricted the way I have her. I stare into her eyes as my fingers glide across her bare skin to her breasts.

I circle the pads of my fingers around her right nipple, teasing her with small pinches. I flatten my palm on her chest and harshly push her back against the locker. A small gasp escaped her lips, from the contact of the cold metal. I politely push aside her bikini top exposing her hard nipple and squeeze lightly to get a reaction out of her. Her back arches and her mouth falls open in the most perfect O shape, I feel my cock twitch. He's begging me to stuff her, but I've got to be patient. I have plans for Love. I lean forward and attach my greedy mouth to her rock hard nipple. I suckle like I'm being fed the last supper. I remove my mouth and look into her foggy eyes.

"I appreciate your kindness," I say under my breath. "But I can't forget about your needs just cause I haven't done much before I met you." She looks at me with wide eyes, noticeably surprised. "It's my turn to take control, that's okay with you?" She takes in my face and slowly nods. My lips quirk up, knowing the words that are about to leave my mouth will hold so much irony.

"Use your words, Love," I steal the same exact words she's said to me every time I couldn't get my mouth to work.

She'll never fully realizes how hard it is for me to speak. I was pretty much a mute for most of my childhood and some teen years, only when I got proper speech therapy did I speak. Even then it was hard for me to actively participate in conversations. The day she approached me on my chair, I knew she was making her way to me before she even got halfway around the pool. I have been admiring her since she first came to the pool, in the same spot with the same expressionless face.

"Yes," she rushes out, "Please."

I don't know what I'm doing, or if what I'm doing is correct. I just go with it. I bend down just enough that our lips are in reaching distance and I waste no time in connecting them. The kiss is passionate and hot, like I've starved her just so that in this moment she can devour me to her heart's content. Her lips taste of cherry and lemon chapstick, if she was a candy my lips would be puckered and my eyes would be squeezed shut tight. I'd take the temporary pain and wait for the savory taste of her soft-centered core.

Just from the way she eagerly gave in to my request has my dick throbbing in my swimming trunks. I'm brought back to reality when I hear a small whimper leave the back of Love's throat.

Her hair is a frizzy mess, while her cheeks are a beautiful shade of deep red. I snake my hand up to the back of her neck and comb my fingers through her scalp, I close my fist on the hair between my fingers and pull her lips away from mine. Just from the way she focuses on my face, my legs feel weak. It takes all my willpower not to fall to my knees and let her do what she wants. But I need to do this, for me and Love.

I let go of her hands that are confined above her head and pull her into my body. My hands explore all over her, gripping and kneading at her soft skin. She's so beautiful, I swear I've imagined her. That none of this is happening and I'm just having a very nice dream.

I slowly drag my hand down her back, while I tighten my other in her hair pulling her back to my lips. I take a handful of her ass and lift her off from the floor. She wraps her legs around my hips and pushes her lips so hard on mine I feel like all the breath in my chest has been knocked out of me. I'm being overstimulated, all I can focus about is her body pressed to mine. I've never been challenged sexually before. To be with someone who waits on you to make a move. It's foreign and maddening knowing I have to initiate everything.

I can do this.

I push her against the locker, and my lips leave hers for the second time. The look on her face shows she's not pleased but doesn't say anything to protest.

"I've never been good with words," my hand smooths the skin on her back, and her breasts push up against me. I roll my eyes, it's seriously infuriating going this slow but it feels good to be in control. I want to drag this out a bit, it's something Love would do. "but you make me want to learn every word imaginable so I can describe to you how I feel right now," I whisper out, my eyes roam over her face.

"You make me talk during times I normally wouldn't even be able to form a sentence, you've pushed me so far off the edge. I can't believe I'm even doing this." I speak some truth in the moment, hoping to calm myself down with all the doubts swarming my head.

"That's what I wanted," she nudges her nose against mine. "I knew you had it in you. Now, why don't you show me what you can do, my sweet boy." The innocent nickname slides off her tongue with ease and the switch from dirty to sweet has my skin crawl with excitement.

I bring my hand to her chest and slowly inch up to her neck, grabbing her jaw, I bring my face close to hers. Her hot breath fans over my lips as I wait for a signal to continue. She lifts her chin and grabs my wrist, guiding it to her neck. I watch her intensively as she takes my thumb and middle finger, placing them over two prominent veins. She places her hand over mine and begins to put pressure on my two fingers. Her veins plump up, seeming to cut off the circulation to her head. It's then that I realize she's teaching me how to choke her the proper way. My eyes widen. Looking directly to hers, she nods in understanding that this is something that I'm not used to. I've never put my hand around a woman's neck before and I most definitely didn't know it was something that was done during sex.

This just reminds me again that there are more experienced people who can handle this type of pressure and power. They would relish this feeling and not want to cower in a corner just how I want to right now. A beautiful woman is clinging to my body and I can't get this feeling of uncertainty off my chest. I try to push all my thoughts to the side and enjoy everything happening to my body.

Her eyes are reassuring, calming the panic that started to form in my gut. I continue my actions by loosening my hand from her hair. Guiding my hands to her hip bones, I massage her skin. I rub my pointer finger over her center, through the thick fabric of her bikini. A whimper leaves her lips as I begin to draw circles on her clit. Her back arches from my slow tantalizing motions, I can't take my eyes off her body.

I yank her by her neck, so quickly her hair flies forward over her face. She inhales harshly, in bliss with my newfound toughness.

"I want your pretty lips on mine," I say proudly. She smiles at my request and leans in. I stop her movements by putting more pressure on her neck. We are centimeters away from each other and I feel like I'm going to suffocate. I don't know how much more I can handle, I push through though. "Other lips, Love." The smirk on my face grows as her smile begins to fade.

This is exactly what she wanted, and she's going to get it. I keep reminding myself to continue. She likes it, she wants this just as much as I do.

"Have you done this before?"

"No, but there's a first for everything. Yeah?"

Her body goes limp around mine, stumbling as she lands on two feet. My hands feel every inch of skin she allows me to, grabbing and rubbing as I make my way to my knees. I kiss every part that comes in contact with my lips. Savoring every flip of my stomach her soft skin brings me.

I'm now looking up at her, the difference in our height normally is comical. Now having the roles reversed I can't imagine being so confident while someone towers over me like a tree.

"Don't be shy, take them off." She whispers out.

I harshly gulp, and bring my hands to the strings of her bikini bottoms and pull slowly as I hold eye contact with her. As she looks down at me I can't help but smile at her, although I'm the one on my knees I'm still in control.

She's letting me keep control. I'm thankful. I am.

But, I feel like I'm drowning.

Oh god, help me.

"You okay?"

I feel like the only reason she's asking me that is because I physically look like I'm losing the ability to breathe. My face feels hot and my hands are shaking. It's no secret anymore that I'm nervous, I'm not hiding it as well as I think I am. I'm not okay at all. She can't know that, that will only give her back the power I so eagerly pushed on myself.

"Don't worry about me Love," I puff out my chest just a little to hide my nervousness as I reach for her hips. "Just put that pretty little pussy on my face."

My head takes a spot between her legs, kissing at her pelvic bone. I leave wet kisses everywhere else but where I know she needs me most. It's fun teasing her, hearing her whines and whimpers. Just when I place a sloppy kiss on the top of her clit, a soft exhale of air comes from the depths of her chest. My tongue darts out and slowly trace circles around her clit.

I pucker my lips around her and suck on her like a lollipop, her hand shoots to my head weaving her fingers through my hair. She grips my hair and pushes me to her center, pressing my nose against her soft pillowy skin.

She's trying to suffocate me with her pussy, and I can't seem to complain. It would be a wonderful way to die.

"Oh." She cries out softly.

Her breathing is heavy, pants coming from her like she's struggling to fill her lungs. As her legs begin to shake I grab hold of her ass in a way to give her a seat to leave back on. Her hips start to grind against my face as I pick up the pace of my tongue, lapping and slurping up every drop of her. I detach my mouth from her clit, her warm legs no longer squishing my face with comfort.

"What's my name, Love?" I look up, her eyes are hooded and glossed over. I soon slip into a comfortable state, feeling way too buzzed with adrenaline to even think about how nervous I was just a few minutes ago.

She hasn't even been talking like she usually does, so bravely speaking in times like this is her specialty. Hearing nothing from her causes a pang of worry to course through my body.

"Are you o-"

"Harry, please don't stop," she breathily lets out rushed words. Her voice is strained like she's been holding in a scream for ages.

"Touch me, I need you to touch me."

I keep eye contact with her as I bring my hand to her center, my middle and ring finger find her clit and I begin to rub on her nub ever so softly. She's so wet, her cum is already dripping down her legs.

My mouth begins to salivate just from the sight of her sweet nectar. I slide my fingers to her entrance and slowly push in, my face takes its place back between her legs.

As I look up from my position, on my knees, admiring the beautiful women who's stood above me. Writhing in pleasure, mouth agape, and to add the cherry on top she's a mesmerizing shade of red. Her hair is a frizzy mess and she's groping her breast in a way to occupy her needy hands.

The small glimpse of her I get in this moment causes a moan to leave my lips, straight onto her clit. My eyes roll to the back of my head as goosebumps erupt all over my body. She's so fucking beautiful, I know I've said I might pass out but I think now I'm most definitely going to pass out.

The vibration of my moan causes her to arch her back, her pussy clenches on my fingers in quick spurts. As I glide my fingers up, I feel a quarter-sized lump on the inner wall of her vagina. I slowly press my two fingers against it, which elicits a loud moan to leave her chest.

"Yes, yes, yes!" She squeezes her breasts unbelievably hard and I feel myself twitch in my trunks. Good god.

I take note and continue my movements, quickening my pace with my fingers along with my mouth.

Her legs are weak and noise is constantly flowing from her mouth, each sound from her teaches me things I never knew were possible. She's so reactive and without words helping me, just watching her come undone has me throbbing. I can feel my pre-cum soaking the front of my trunks.

I find the courage to speak, "You look so beautiful from down here." I wait for her reply. "Fuck, you're so hot." My fingers continue their tantalizing movements

"I know exactly what you mean," she stops mid-sentence, a gasp leaving her soft pink lips. "why do you think I love doing it to you?"

Through all her pleasure she finds the strength to smirk at me, biting her bottom lip as she softly giggles only to be stifled by a moan.

"Let go for me, Amor."

I latched back onto her clit, sucking and circling. I try and spell my name with my tongue, first and last. I close my eyes enjoying her taste and smell. How soft her skin feels on my face, how her pussy juice is slowly dripping down my jaw and neck, coating my mustache in her clear shiny cum. I can just imagine it glistening like a freshly cleaned diamond as she looks down at me.

She grabs onto my shoulders, roughly digging her nails into my skin. She's hunched over me, gasping for air as she reaches her high.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, that feels so good!" She yells at me.

"Just like that baby, shit!" She praises.

"Oh god, oh god. Fucking hell!" She pleads.

It's like all the words she was trying to get out this whole time let loose once she did, a never-ending damn flow of water spewing out of her mouth. I let her ride out her high, flicking my tongue over her now engorged clit. I slowly slide my fingers out and looking at my hand. It's covered in her juices.

I take my hand to my mouth and suck at the two fingers I just had in her. Licking everything up, staring at her the entire time. I stand to my towering height and grab her face and force our mouths together.

The kiss is rough, lips are smushed and wet from the leftovers on my face. I'd give up all my riches just to kiss her whenever I'd like. She sighs into the kiss and her body goes limp, if I wasn't practically holding her up I'd do the same thing.

We separate from the kiss, panting from the lack of oxygen due to our recklessness, I'd much rather kiss her than breath.

"You sure you've never done this before?" She lazily smiles, a cackle leaves her small body as her chest jumps up from laughter.

I shake my head smiling down at the floor, "Yeah, I'm sure."

I unlock my locker and grab a fresh towel and clean her up to the best of my ability. I chuck the towel in the laundry bin and grab her bikini from the floor. I slip it in between her legs, covering her core. I grab the strings and tie a small bow, then proceed to do the same for the other side. My movements are slow and when I finish I gently brush the pads of my fingers across her hip. My touches are delicate and deliberate, I want nothing from her. If anything I want to do more for her.

"How about we get out of here, and go out tonight? I've only ever seen you in a bikini, your dancing clothes, and well, naked." I chuckle at the thought of skipping so many steps when finally having sex with someone. It's not usually oral? And never the first day you meet?

Right?

"I'd like that a lot. Plus, I get to dress up for you." Her eyes focus on my lips then on my eyes, then back to my lips.

My cheeks heat up, just as my chest inflates with a big gasp of air. The thought of her dressing up for me causes butterflies to form in my stomach. Tickling my insides so much I feel the need to squirm.

"Great. I'll pick you up. How does 9 sound?" I timidly ask, trying not to show how excited I am to see her a second time in a day. She makes me feel good, the best I've felt in a while.

"Ok, but you have to walk me to my car."

Perfect, I want to kiss her.

"Let's get dressed, Love."

I quickly get dressed and grab my bag, locking my locker and the pool. We make small talk as we walk to the parking lot, exchanging numbers and her address.

"Are you gonna tell me where we are going?" She asks expectantly.

"I think I'd like to keep that a secret if you don't mind?" As we get to her car the sunset beside us leaves a shadow across half of her face, the glow from her light brown eyes knocking the breath out of me. The highlights in her hair glow from the sun cascading off her.

I can't help but admire Love.

"How am I supposed to know how to dress?" She quirks her eyebrow up at me. I giggle at her silly face and turn to face her.

I stroke her cheek with my hand and speak, "it's not fancy," I can't help but enjoy this adrenaline rush that's still coursing through me. "Wear something that will make you the center of attention."

"That's easy."

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles rec #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry #harry styles #harry styles sub #harry styles fan fic

[kaimelia-endgame]

Focus on me

Hey I haven’t written a fix since I was like 14 years old and this is pure garbage so sorry. Please don’t be mean. ⚠️past drug use, needles ⚠️⚠️

Maggie is rushing through the ER not paying any attention when she runs right smack into someone. “Oh my gosh I’m so so sorry-wait, Amelia?” Amelia looks up from the chart she was quickly scanning. “Jeez girl, where's the fire?” She laughs. Maggie furrows her brows at her sister. “Didn’t you hear about the blood shortage? We all need to go donate immediately” Amelia doesn’t know how to respond. She’s been trying to talk herself into going over to the clinic all day to give blood. But she knows sitting there alone with a needle in her arm will be too triggering and she doesn’t know if she can risk it. She has Scout, Meredith's kids, sisters, and Kai. She especially can’t break down in front of them.”um yeah I’ll be over there soon. Just so busy with patients! So many head traumas today!” Amelia runs off as Maggie continues to stand there confused. She’s slightly worried as Amelia definitely seemed to be a little off. But Maggie couldn’t quite figure out why.

It’s about an hour later when Amelia is standing in the ER staring out the double doors at the rain with a blank look on her face. It is just a few minutes before this that Kai Bartley has decided they need to stretch their legs and get another cup of coffee as they have been sitting in the same spot for several hours going over data. They get a little lost and end up right outside the emergency room. They smile as they turn their head and see a familiar petite brunette standing a few feet away. “Hey Shepard” they say as they come up behind her and reach out their hand to graze her lower back. Being completely lost in her own thoughts, Amelia lets out a yelp as she jumps back, a little frightened by the sudden touch. Kai chuckles. “Someone is lost in her own world today”. Their signature smirk begins to falter as she turns her body to face them straight on. “Shepard what’s wrong?” They say as they notice the look on her face. She gives them a tight smile before saying “Oh nothing just thinking about a trauma patient. Actually I should be getting back to them, they should be getting out of CT right now..” she turns to walk away but they grab her arm and pull her back to them. “Amelia what’s wrong?” She looks down for a second, racking her brain for another lie when she’s stopped by their hand moving under her chin to lift her head back up. As she looks up into their green eyes, she is brought back to that day outside the hospital where they shared their first kiss. She feels so safe and calm with them. No one has ever taken care of her like this before and she keeps fighting with the voice in her head that tells her to run, run, run. Kai doesn’t say anything as they wait for an answer but Amelia just can’t find the words. She’s afraid that if she opens up about this that they’ll walk away. And she can’t lose them. Yes she’s told them about her past, but not about her triggers or her cravings in detail. It’s too much, too soon, and she doesn’t want to overwhelm them. Doesn’t want them to think she’s Hurricane Amelia like everyone else does. They’re still in their own bubble. They don’t know what’s she’s done or who she’s hurt. She’s brought back to reality by Kai’s hand moving from under her chain to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Amelia,” they whisper. “You can tell me anything, you’re not going to scare me away, I promise” She sighs and leans further into their hand as it comes to rest on the side of her face. “Okay”, she whispers. “But not here”.

Amelia takes them by the hand and leads them to the closest supply closet she can find. Turning to close the door behind her, she takes a moment to breathe and settle her thoughts. Kai stands quietly, cursing anyone from her past that made her feel like she couldn’t communicate her feelings. All they want is to hold her and keep her safe from the world, all the pain she’s ever felt. Finally, Amelia looks up and meets their gaze. “There’s a blood shortage”. They nod, a little confused on what that has to do with her clearly anxious state. “I haven’t given blood since a was a teenager. Since before I started using…” she trails off as her eyes begin to burn with tears. She doesn’t want them to see her cry but one stubborn tear escapes as she looks at at them. They reach out a hand and wipe away the tear with their thumb, waiting for her to continue. “I’m afraid of what will happen when I see a needle in my arm. I don’t think I can do it. But there’s a blood shortage and people are dying and I feel like I’m failing everyone and-“ “Hey shhh” they cut her off and bring up their other hand to the side of her neck. “I’ll come with you. I’ll be right there the whole time. And if it’s too much then we can leave. Okay?” She releases a long breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Okay”.

As they walk into the clinic together hand in hand, Kai gives hers a squeeze as a nurse walks over to them. “Hi Dr. Shepard it’s nice to see you!” She smiles sweetly. “Hi Jen nice to see you too” Jen looks over at Kai. “And you are?” “Dr. Kai Bartley nice to meet you” they reach out to shake her hand, charming as always. “Okay you guys, let’s get you settled right over here. Nurse Jackie is going to come take care of you in a moment”. Amelia sits down in one of the empty chairs and Kai takes the seat to her left. “Hey Dr. Shepard! So we’re a little overwhelmed down here so we’ll have to take your blood one at a time. Any preference on who goes first?” Nurse Jackie looks between the two doctors. “I’ll go” Amelia tells her. As Jackie goes to grab the supplies Amelia looks over at Kai. They take her left hand in their own and rub circles with their thumb on the back of her hand. “Just focus on me”. “Okay”. Blue eyes stare into green as Jackie wipes Amelia’s right arm with an alcohol pad and tightens a tourniquet around her bicep. Amelia takes a deep breath as she knows what’s about to happen and immediately squeezes her eyes shut as the needle goes in. “Open your eyes and look at me please” whispers Kai next to her. She’s so grateful to have them in this moment and her eyes well with tears at the thought of how good they are to her. “You’re doing so good baby just don’t look okay”. Amelia continues to focus on her breathing but eventually her brain tells her to look. And she does. She only glances down for a second but as soon as she does her mind starts to spiral. She’s suddenly back in that hotel room, rolling over to lay on Ryan’s chest and realizing he doesn’t have a pulse. Rehab, withdrawl, hurting Addison, hurting Charlotte, and everyone else close to her. Finding out she’s pregnant with his baby. Christopher. Her baby boy dying in her arms. He lived for 43 minutes and he was beautiful. She’s panicking, beginning to hyperventilate. Kai notices immediately and goes to reassure her but Amelia is already ripping the IV out of her arm and going straight for the exit door. She doesn’t want Kai to see her breaking down like this. She just needs to be alone, to calm her spiraling thoughts, to breathe. Just breathe Amelia. She finds the closest on call room and locks the door behind her. Kai is running after her and tries the door. Their heart breaks as they hear her sobs coming though the door. “Amelia please open the door”. She can’t let them see her. She’s choking on tears, stuck in her painful memories and she just needs to figure out how to stop. Kai doesn’t give up, wouldn’t ever leave her like this. “Shepard please let me in”. They feel helpless, afraid of what she might do alone with her thoughts right now. She finally walks over to the door, unlocking it before walking back towards the window of the on call room and turning around so she doesn’t face them. “Please just go, I can’t…I can’t do this right now”. “I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving you ever, Amelia”. “Please just let me help you”. They reach out and gently grab her arm turning her around and trying to pull her closer to them. “No don’t touch me! I can’t- Kai please Go!” She grabs their arms and tries to push them away. Her breathing becoming more irriadic and mascara runs down her face. “Shepard I need you to look at me and breathe” she stops fighting for a second as they take one of her hands and bring it to rest on their chest. “Feel my heartbeat. Just focus on the rhythm of my heart and watch my chest rise and fall.” Amelia is mesmerized by their ability to begin calming her. She does as she’s told, still very much panicked but feeling slightly less out of control. “I’m right here. Just keep breathing with me. “. They stand like this for a long time. Kai’s gaze steady, looking right into Amelia’s eyes. As she finally begins to calm, they move a hand to cup her face. “Better?” Amelia nods. “I’m sorry” she whispers, voice horse from the tears. “Never apologize to me for your feelings, Shepard”. She takes in their words. The sincerity of them maki

making her eyes well up again and more tears fall. Kai moves their hands to her shoulders and pull her in to their chest. Amelia buries her nose in their chest and breathes. Their familiar scent calming her even more. They rub up and down her back, thinking carefully about what they want to say next. “I love you”, they whisper. Amelia tenses a little in their arms. “Don’t say anything, it’s okay. I just wanted you to know how I feel. I am in love with you Amelia. And I will always be here for you, even when things are difficult. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to know all of who you are”. Amelia thinks for a second. She does love them. And she wants to tell them, but she’s just so scared of them leaving her like everyone else. But maybe she should try. Try to let them in. Try to show them all of her. She takes a deep breath, “I love you too”. They smile wide, glad she’s still tucked against their chest. “Yeah?” “Yeah”. They release her body slowly and Amelia whimpers at the lose of contact . “Come here” they say as they walk towards the bed and lay down. Amelia complies, taking off her shoes and badge before laying down and cuddling up to Kai. They wrap their arms around her and she lays her head in the crook of their neck. “Hold me tighter” she whispers. “Okay baby” they tighten their grip on her even more and place a soft kiss on her forehead. “Close your eyes, I’ll be right here when you wake up”. “Promise?” “I promise”.

#kaimelia #kai bartley #amelia shepard #fanfic #fluff #hurt/comfort #kaimelia fanfic

[ploykantida]

a sensitive person

I got off uni early today because midterm exams are coming and I'm not about to waste a second of my time. At least that’s what I thought. I ended up walking straight into the mall to the clinic I normally get laser hair removal for my lower legs and armpits at. I said it like that because I actually go to another place for my Brazilian area. I know, kind of counterproductive but the other place are so cozy and they treat me like a goddess. It’s somewhat like a spa experience so that’s why I do my Brazilian there, iykyk. Back to the story, I got in and got taken into the laser room right away because it’s 10.30 am on a Thursday and people just have better things to do. So, good for me. I took off my shirt, wrap a towel around my chest and send a signal to the esthetician that I was ready. When she came in, I put my focus back on my phone. I hate small talk and nothing is worse than a small talk while the other person is closely inspecting your body. Still, I have to answer the inevitable questions like “Do you shave or plug?” and “Are you normally a hairy person?”. I kept  my eyes on my phone while talking even though I know it’s kind of rude but hey, homegirl was just uncomfortable. After all that body hair talk she moved up to my face to put the protective glasses on me while I starting to relax my face because I thought that was gonna be the end of the chitchatting. But I couldn’t be more wrong. It was just the beginning.

“You know, we have acne treatment here too, right? You can get a treatment to clear up your face. And maybe some mesotheraphy to treat those dark spots too.”

Um, Excuse me. I am letting you put a protective glasses on me so you can move on with lasering my hairy body not a commentary on my acne prone skin and how I should treat it. I am very self aware so no, thank you.

But I didn't say anything. Good thing she’d met me when I'm not 16 because I would’ve said something she wouldn’t want to hear back. I’m 21 now so I just stayed calm and let out a chuckle as I thought it signify the end of the conversation.

“Hm, your back also have a bit of acne. Are you allergic to your shampoo? You should try switching them up or get a treatment here, you know?”

Okay, now I am officially annoyed. I know I have bacon, I don’t think it’s from my shampoo or any product I’m using because I haven’t even changed my shower routine in the past year. If I have to take a guess, they just came because of my stress and shitty diet. Also, the fact that I’m a picker doesn’t really help. But still, I said yes in the most nonchalant way possible. I can let one comment slide but two? that’s a bit generous. I know she was just trying to sell all these packages but all I’m gonna say is, between me and her, I have less things to worry about. 

I’m being mean? Sorry, I guess.

I tried to reach for my earphones to plug in to really makes it clear to this lady that I’m not in the mood for talking when she spewed another godawful question again. 

“Oh my god what happened to your legs? There are so many dry and red patches. Have you been scratching them? You need to stop and you need to get a brightening treatment for them.”

At that point I wasn’t just annoyed, I was angry. Why do you think you are allowed to talk to me that way? At what point did I tell you you can comment on my body and give me unsolicited advice? At that millisecond my brain thought, “thank fucking god I’m not letting her anywhere near my Brazilian area because I might have to pretend to be ticklish and kick her in the face” Fucking rude.

In the heat of the moment I just said with an obviously irritated voice

“I am sensitive”

Referring to my skin. But since that word came out of my mouth until the treatment was done. I wonder if I was actually referring to my skin or my mind.

#journal #2023 #diary

[scruffyssketchbook]

reading that "Blizz knocked out, lost memories" question made me remember my "OCvee" Hope the shiny sylveon and how I literally just snatched the "character gets amnesia and is completely different" from Blizz lmaooo. tbf i thought Blizz was evil when he was in the plex??? but recently i think not and he was actually the good guy?? idk. Dusk and Vay tell different stories.

anyway, why not tell Hope's edgy nonsensical backstory? her dad was a shiny that had a special gene that made all his kids shinies, so Hope and her bro Dream were shinies. but mom was a normal eevee and had an older litter of non-shinies, and she was killed by the evil lab ppl because that's useless. they kept Hope and Dream (they didnt have names at this point actually) together for a bit, putting them through extreme tests (idk why??? just to be evil?? they were trying to make them super obedient soldiers, like how Dusk described old Blizz at one point i think?), but at some point they got separated and Hope was devasted. she got put under super harsh conditions as the 'stronger' vee while Dream went off to.... not sure actually? i know he HAS kids with a shiny vulpix (one shiny eevee, two shiny vulpix/ninetales), but i dont know if thats cause he became a breeder vee or if he fell in love with the vulpix idk. i think both, and he had other kids but theyre not important/got taken away from him.

the mention of older non-shiny vee litters is important because one of those vees was Cream!!! who named himself that cause he has creamy fur. he saw the death of his mom and was very sad (even tho i think his mom was the one who tore half his face off? he has half his face ripped or burned off or something, blind and deaf in one eye/ear, but i canNOT remember how/why), but he (somehow??) discovered his younger (by like. a month? idk) siblings, or at least Hope. he wanted to save her/comfort her, so after her bro was taken away Cream was always there to talk to her between tests! (no clue why the scientists never... stopped him?? cause he was cute maybe lmao) but Hope Did Not Care For Him. ignored him most days, tolerated him on best days, and berated and attempted to attack him on worst days. sure, there were a few instances where she may have been kinder, but mostly she was just. the worst.

she was all edgy and cruel because, on one hand she had a bunch of experiments done on her, and on the other, she also was forced to fight a whole lot, and straight up murder other pkmn. like genuinely if you were told you were going to fight her, it was a death sentence. she was a killing device, because they were also trying to hone her unique powers (she knew moves that eevees cant know, ghost type i believe, which actually came from her mom who turned into a zombie/ghost idk. the details are fuzzy to me).

so one day Cream hears word of a group of escaping vees who've caused chaos, and Cream thinks this is the perfect opportunity to escape since the scientists are all frazzled. Hope ignores him at first but when she realizes she can actually escape, she bolts. Cream tries to help lead her, but she DOES NOT CARE or listen to his instructions, she's just running. at one point Cream tries to stop her and tell her there are vees that can help them over yander, and she just straight up kills him before he finishes his sentence. cause yeah.

and then i honestly have no idea what happens. right after killing her half-bro, she gets knocked out (falling? running into something? attacked by a mon? i think it might have been by the main vee Glaceon) and she. forgets literally everything. not only that but all her trauma, physical and mental, is magically gone somehow even tho amnesia cant erase patterns on the brain like that (well. it can but not blunt force trauma-induced amnesia usually i dont think).

she gets found by the other escaping vees, and taken in by the nicknamed Dee, an old eevee who is the father of most of the other vee-lutions in the group. her dad names her Hope because she "holds no trauma from that evil place and shows what our future could be." at first she's kind of quiet and odd, but slowly she opens up and becomes super hyper and happy and overly joyful, always wanting to put a smile on everyone's face. she even evolves into a sylveon because of this happiness and affection. no one in the group knows about her past, and think she's just some fortunate shiny vee that escaped (except maybe the Glaceon vee, who keeps a lot of secrets and is still in contact with the lab, and also 100% knows Hope has an obvious tracker on her ear, but doesnt say anything about it bcus Hail [the glaceon] knows that theres a tracker in his body too anyway). the only thing Hope can remember is the faint memory of a happy, laughing eevee that she knows is a) her brother and b) named "...ream." ...which is how she gets the idea that she has a brother named Dream.

sucks to be Cream, I guess.

(sorry this is so long lmaooo i just kept writing)

Author Chan: Ngl this was a very interesting read

[jacksnaces]

Inconvenient Qualities Pt. 1

I do not dance. I was told I look stupid and everyone is going to laugh. I hate my smile. My mom spent so long trying to teach me how to smile exactly right. She showed me what a good smile was like. I never did figure it out. I do not draw or paint anymore. I thought I was getting good, but I mean she was always my biggest critic. I hate my laugh. I hate how loud I talk. I wish I could join in on the stupid little games. I cannot react. You could have just got me tickets to Noah Kahan but I’d be too worried of looking stupid. I do not know how to use my words. I cannot express emotions. I cannot say I love you even when I mean it. She made that such a big deal. Went as far as to get onto me. But dad always encouraged it. But never did he stand up for it. Now I struggle telling family that I love them. I cannot sing. Sometimes if the music is loud enough I will join in. But I over think it. I wanted to write music but that is also on the list of things I’m unable to do. And it is funny. I am a hopeless romantic yet doing something as simple as buying flowers or writing a letter is so incredibly difficult to do. I cannot buy the things I need. So instead I buy things I want. I do not understand that one. Owning more than one pair of shoes makes me anxious, I must be clean. Used to I had to be fully put together even just to go to the store. Luckily this one I have mostly broken. I have learned not to give a fuck. I cannot take pictures of myself. I judge every photo taken so harshly. And that sucks because I love pictures. Sometimes hearing footsteps through the house or the sound of the knob being touch causes me to panic. Sending texts absolutely scares me. I was taught to worry how others perceived me. I was taught defending myself was considered talking back. Finally, my brain took it upon itself to quit trying to calmly explain and go straight into fight mode. I think there is a second side of me living in my brain. But also, I am scared I have made that up just to keep from accepting fault. Which is funny cause like I still accept what I did, and I am still striving to fix it. I have been taught I am not allowed to go to sleep until I have solved the problem. I have been taught my needs come second and they do not get met unless I am needed. I struggle with food. I was told I will get fat and be ugly if I was not careful but also, I was not allowed to leave the table until every bite was gone. My sensory issues was me just being dramatic. My meltdowns was just so all the attention would be on me. I was and still am too young to have depression or anxiety and I never did go to war so there is no way to have PTSD. I am just living in a delusional world out of spite of my mom. She makes sure to remind me I’m not actually trans, but I’m doing this out of spite. Funny. You may wanna be careful, as I only have emotions to try to gaslight those around me. And watch out for the fact that I cannot accept responsibility. That one still cracks me up. I spent so many years trying to be perfect, but it will never be enough. I will never be worth loving. Not unconditionally at least. I do nothing but destroy everything around me just for fun. Not because the fact I was autistic was hidden from me and the mental abuse I endured. I can’t do arts and crafts as that was childish and dumb. Plus, her father always had a say. Could not join any school plays cause as dramatic as I was, I wasn’t good enough to be in theater. I was a slob. Despite me keeping the house and yard perfect. I just did not have time for my laundry after helping put hers away. I do not love my siblings because I could not stand being touched. I am going to taint them and ruin them just because I exist. I will never become anything in life. I will die sad and lonely, living on my parents’ couch. Inconvinent qualities that the trauma formed. So may lies pushed into my brain. Little by little I am taking it back.

[goonie-forever]

#1

This is for me....

I want to write to get this all out of my brain. It's hard to hold everything in and just live through life with it all bouncing around in my head, like hyper kids in one of those blow up castles at birthday parties.

At this point I don't even really know where to start.

Maybe....

Just the basics for now.

I made it to my late twenties and that in itself feels like a dream. I never thought I would make it this long. I thought for sure I would've taken myself out by now and made my world quiet. Here I am! Living in my late twenties! I moved back home recently to go back to school and pursue the career that I always wanted but was too chaotic to achieve.

Another good place to start is that I am trying to be a better person... in my professional life as well as my personal life. Work, school and relationships! OH MY! Juggling everything has been quite the journey in its self.

Relationships...

Ugh.

Where do I even begin.

I can start by saying my "picker" is broken. Because oh boy! Do I know how to choose the good ones! My first serious boyfriend was a tweaker and cheated on me. He also beat up my brother which was sooooo much fun (sarcasm is dripping from that). He also wasn't the kindest person to me either but I was young dumb and ready to love someone. He hurt me a few times and took advantage of me and the emotional abuse was strong at its peak. It definitely didn't start out that way. You ever hear about the boiled frog metaphor? Well my frog was boiled until he went to jail and I packed my shit and moved thousands of miles away. I avoided anything that resembled a relationship after that. The trauma from that took a toll and my already existing trauma ( That's for another day) also reared its ugly head. After a looooooonnnnngggg time I start talking to this girl who we will call Mary. Mary is absolutely beautiful in every way. Older and definitely prettier than me. I figured why not shoot my shot and she took it. Then I moved. I blew up my whole life to start a career I always wanted. Long distance wasn't her thing and that was okay. It was my fault for leaving. We talked all the time and I grew to love her more and more. Her faith in God was beautiful. She made me want to believe again. Then she got mean. She told me I was going to hell because I wouldn't accept Jesus into my heart. Mary and I fought one day about something stupid (that's also a story for another time) and I said what I needed to say and I never talked to Mary again.

Jimmy (not his real name)

Jimmy and I have been talking over text for 10 years. It started on kik when I was 17. He always checked on me and he saw me at all of my bad times and still thought I was beautiful, even when I cut off all my hair in a manic rage. The universe never let Jimmy and I come together. Either he was in a relationship or I was. I also had a terrible habit of moving out of state. Finally after years of just texting and phone calls we met in person. We went straight to a hotel.... My dumb brain made me awkward and he sensed the fact I was uncomfortable. Nothing happened but I did lose my shirt and we shared long takeout sessions until it got dark and I needed to go home. And again my dumb brain made me freak out and I convinced myself that if I liked him this much he would leave me.... so I left him. I ghosted Jimmy for over a year. Just recently I got drunk with some friends and I messaged him on Facebook. I apologized for all of the times I ghosted him. This was part of me trying to be better. I think I just needed to get right before I dove in again. Now we talk everyday and he's the nervous one now. Which I understand because I did that to him. We've been through some shit and are both broken and that's okay. I really do think it will be better this time.

Jimmy is part of the reason I decided to write all of this. To revisit everything, to remember everything and move forward. I don't want to lose him again.

I won't lose him again.

Cheers,

Goonie