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lovecoree · 6 months

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𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — 𝐊𝐓𝐇

pairing: painter!tae x black fem!reader

synopsis 🎱: taehyung doesn’t tolerate your attitude, especially when he’s not in his right mind for his next painting. punishing you is the only way for you to know he’s serious about that.

warning: SMUT ! mdni , oral ( m receiving ) , filming ( with consent ofc ) , huge d!ck tae ( yes this is a warning ) , reader is black coded , dom!tae , brat!reader , brat taming , let me know if there’s more !

a/n: this was an anonymous request, also my first time writing smut so it’s probably trash, but hope you enjoy

Taehyung was an amazing artist, the art ideas he had in mind came easily to him, wrist moving swiftly as he painted on a blank canvas, but today was a bad day for Taehyung. He couldn’t seem to stay focus nor come up with ideas that seemed new and interesting. Everything looked the same leaving him more angry and destroying countless of canvases— left ripped or thrown all across the room.

Taehyung was busy mixing up paints in a container with aggression, grey sleeves pushed up and veins protruding on his hands and arms, and glasses on the tip of his nose. He was pouring his anger out on mixing that he didn’t hear your footsteps nearing the door, not until your voice stopped all his movements.

“You’re still going at it” Your voice came out in a sarcastic tone as you took in the sight of the messy room and your boyfriend standing in the middle. Your voice got stuck in your throat when taehyung only turned his head and not his full body, eyes boring into yours as his expression was blank. “What do you want.” His cold tone was nothing new to you, you knew Taehyung can be cold towards you— or anyone when he’s angry about his work not coming out the way he wants it to be, but that doesn’t stop you from letting your true sarcastic comments slip out from time to time.

Your feet thud against the marble floor on purpose as you moved closer towards Taehyung, slightly kicking the half used canvases out of your way. Taehyung hated when you thud your feet, always telling you to pick your feet up when walking. He eyed your movements before slowly looking up at you with an intense look— a warning look that you did not take seriously. First mistake.

Folding your arms over your chest, wearing nothing but Taehyung’s grey shirt that’s oversized on you. “You’ve been in here for five hours, you promised me you’ll only be in here for two hours tae.” Which he did promise, the sincere promise he made right after giving you a kiss. Taehyung sighed as he fully turned his body around to face you. Small container and paint brush still in his hand tightly.

“Y/N sometimes promises are meant to be broken, you’ll be fine. I’m busy.” His blunt comment made you mad as you rolled your eyes. He didn’t tend to be harsh with his choice of words, but the lack of creativity and your sarcastic tone was making him annoyed. “Then why the fuck did you make the promise in the first place tae?” Taehyung jaw clenched as he looked at you with a hard glare. The bratty behavior and talk back is something Taehyung never liked, especially when you cuss. “What I say about cussing?” Taehyung stepped closer to you, towering over your body, but you wouldn’t waver. Second mistake.

“Boy I don’t care what you said, it’s my mouth. Now like I said fuck you make—” The gasp you let out as Taehyung finally broke his calmness, throwing the container of paint and paint brush on the floor— thank god it was washable paint. He gripped your neck pulling your body closer to his as you looked up at him. “Baby I told you I don’t tolerate disrespect or you cussing me out, apologize and I’ll let it slide.” Taehyung’s tone was deep, deep to the point you felt your panties start to dampen.

The look he gave you was telling you to utter something slick again, so what you do? Utter something slick again. “I’m not apologizing for shit.” Third mistake.

“That’s it take it all.” Taehyung groaned deeply glancing down at you as he gripped the back of your neck holding you still as he fucked your mouth. Loud gaging noises was music to his ears. “You look so pretty with my cock down your throat.” He smirked loving the sight of your tears pooling down to your puffy cheeks, spit and precum glistening on your chin and down on the floor, balls slapping on your chin repeatedly from Taehyung’s hard thrust.

“can’t bitch now, can you?” Tilting his head back, gripping the wooden table from behind him tightly as he bucked his hips. You looked up at him as you tried your best to breath out your nose, griping his thick thighs to slow his movements. “Nah, be the brat you wanted to be and take it.”

Taehyung’s girth had your mouth stretching painfully, but you enjoyed it. His tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly as you moaned around his length sending vibrations to taehyung’s cock causing him to moan. “Fuck baby, just like that.” He loved seeing your eyes filled with tears, made him weak in the knees. “S-Shit baby let me record you being good for me, hmm?” You nod your head yes as Taehyung stopped his thrust.

You could finally catch your breath as Taehyung slipped out your sore mouth. Cock drooping low from being to heavy to stand on its own. You hear him unlock his phone and pressing the record button. Gripping the base of his cock you stick out your tongue to let him slap his fat red tip on it. Pretty wet eyelashes blinking up at him as he slide back in, going back to his brutal thrusting.

Taehyung gripped the phone tight as he looked at the camera catching the pornographic scene. Biting his lip trying hard to suppress the smirk seeing you gag around him as he held you in place, nose hitting his freshly shaved pubic bone as he stuffed his cock down your throat. What felt like minutes he finally let go of your head causing you to pull back completely. Taking a huge gasp of air as spit connected from his swollen tip to your now puffy lips.

“You look a mess pretty.” You whimpered looking up at him breathing hard. He wanted to ruin you completely as punishment. Normally he would edge you on, but since you ran your mouth so much he decided to put it to good use. “Cock drunk already?” He slightly tapped your face with his free hand before gripping your jaw to look up at the camera.

“Apologies for being a brat baby and maybe I’ll go gentle.” Your hands rubbed up on his thighs as you looked up at him so pretty. “I-Im sorry for being a brat, it won’t happen a-again tae.” Voice practically raspy from the stretch, Taehyung smiled. “Good girl, finish me off.” He moved his hand from your jaw, allowing you to finally take control. His cock felt heavy in your hands as you jerked him off placing him back in your mouth, bobbing your head back and forth.

“Oh my— fuck you’re amazing.” To be honest this is exactly what Taehyung needed, from all the pent up stress he had today, fucking your throat was the only option in his mind to release it. “Fuck baby I’m close.” Taehyung’s moans turns into whimpers as you pulled away to jerk him off faster sticking out your tongue.

“shitshitshitshit.” Taehyung’s jaw dropped as his eyes rolled back, stomach caving in as thick ropes of his cum splattered all on your tongue, lips and cheeks. You looked pretty to him.

Taehyung turned the recording off, placing his phone on the table behind him. He watched as you scooped the remaining cum off your cheeks and lick your fingers clean.

“You are truly amazing baby.” Helping you up off the floor Taehyung kissed you passionately, tasting his own bittersweet cum. The kiss was sloppy yet loving. “No more distractions, ok?” Placing a harsh slap on your ass you smiled. “Ok.” You giggled as he picked you up bridal style carrying you to y’all shared bedroom.

#taehyung x black reader #black fem reader #bts x black girl #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung smut #smut #black reader smut #bts x black reader #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung #bts thv #kpop smut #bts smut #taehyung x y/n

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ice-cream-writes-stuff · 1 year

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Don't Hug Me Neighbor

《You and your friends find yourselves in a new Home.》

《Inspired By: [post] [post], fan artists as well》

《Warnings: the subject matter this ARG has are potentially disturbing. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Welcome Home was created by Clown @ partycoffin. DHMIS also obtains potentially disturbing content, be mindful.》

"I quite like this place!" Duck remarked, gazing through one of the opened windows from the house.

"Yeah, I do too, it's peaceful." Red Guy said, watching the sun rise from beyond the orange-colored sky of this new place.

You nodded at the two, settling yourself beside Yellow, asking him for his thoughts.

"I.. uh, I don't really know.." Yellow replied, the young boy yawns tiredly. His head rocking back and forth as he tries to stay awake with his family. You smile at Yellow, "well, let's explore later in the day, it's a bit early, isn't?" You said affectionately, picking up the puppet carefully as he snuggles into your neck.

"Hmp, I want to explore now." Duck whispers under his breath, but follows you and Yellow back to your rooms.

You pause, looking back at Red, asking him if he was gonna head back with you. Yet he remains silent, his focus on the outside world, much different from the one you all knew.

You tuck Yellow back in his bed, patting his messy blue hair before whispering reassuring words to see him when he woke up. Duck heads back into his bed as well, mumbling a sleepy "good-night".

You, however, don't go back to bed. Instead, creeping back downstairs to see Red still in the same place where you left him. His mind still elsewhere, hopefully somewhere happy, you hoped.

You open the fridge, clicking your tongue in distaste, peeved at the stains of blood decorating the inside. Opting to ignore it, you focus on a few items you needed to make a pleasant breakfast.

You were so thankful for the stove to be working today.

"I reckon if there's any coffee left," Red states, walking over to the fridge, but finding it empty.

"Is there?" Duck asks, looking through his crossword puzzle as Yellow happily munches on the crepes you made.

"No."

"Any in the pantry?" Red questioned you, watching you clean around the pantry door. "No, sorry. I guess will have to stalk up today for groceries."

"Oh yay! We- we can explore this place today!" Yellow cheered, Duck recoiled in disgust. "Close your mouth when you eat, it's rude to talk with your mouthful."

"Sorry..."

You throw away a red-color stained rag in the trash, coming over to Yellows side of the table. Wiping away the crumbs on his cheeks as Red brightens up at the idea of heading into the new environment.

"Yeah! It's evening now, I think we should be fine."

"Hmm, lemme finish this first," Duck says, looking over his puzzle. "What is a six-letter word for an action, but also a group of birds."

"It's a murder." Yellow says, you wince at the words, but dutifully take away the dishes from the table and place them in the sink.

"That can't be right..." Duck utters, scratching the tip of his pencil on his head.

"Can we please just cut away to the exploring bit, please."

[Taglist closed]

[Hiya! Thank you guys so much for such the positive comments! I need some more, I crave. Readings ya'lls reactions are the best and make it easier for me. Thanks! Art is always appreciated!]

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nickfowlerrr · 1 year

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and i don’t wanna leave

pairing: max burnett x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut. angst. lmk if something needs to be tagged pls!

words: 3.3k

notes: i love max burnett with all my heart. that’s it, that’s all i have to say i think. thank you in advance for reading and as always, feedback and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. 🖤

You were rifling through every cabinet and drawer in the apartment as you collected your things, not carrying in the slightest at the mess you were leaving in your wake or the obnoxious sounds of you slamming things and throwing anything in your way. You were near seething as you continued storming around. Every stupid gift you came across that you’d been given over the last five months squeezing at your heart before you discarded them like they were trash. They were. They meant absolutely nothing. All of this, everything, meant absolutely nothing. At least to him. He couldn’t care less. He never cared. You knew that now.

He never cared.

The hot tear that ran down your cheek was almost startling, the anger starting to make way into despair, utter heartbreak. You wiped at your face, rubbing at your bleary eyes as you forced the tears away.

You had trusted him. You gave him everything. You gave him all of you. You weren’t sure what was worse, the embarrassment or the pain.

All you knew was that you didn’t want to focus on either. Anger was easier.

You walked into the open space of the living room and immediately your eyes landed on the torso sculpture that Max had bought when you’d been wandering around the art fair downtown last month.

“Reminds me of you,” he had simpered. “Of course it comes nowhere near your beauty, but until I can get my hands on a sculpture of you,”

“A goddess will have to do,” you finished, scoffing off his flattery, an eyebrow raised at his ridiculous statement. He nodded with a smile, eyes never leaving yours.

You would have sworn you could feel the love he had for you just in the way he looked at you alone.

But you were stupid. Clueless. Foolish.

You were moving before you were really thinking, making a beeline for the sculpture sitting on the pristine bookshelf. It was in your hands as you heard the front door being unlocked and pushed open and in the same instant, you raised it above your head, nothing but anger at the forefront of your mind. It all happened in the blink of an eye, really. You could feel his eyes on you the second he walked in, and you didn’t even look at him as you threw the statute on the ground with all the force you could muster. The sound of it breaking was perfectly in tune with how you were feeling.

The smashed pieces of ceramic laid shattered on the ground. Your breathing was ragged as you stared at the pieces, a once beautiful piece of art now in ruins. Just like how you felt.

“Honey, I’m home,” Max’s lilthful voice drew your attention and your ire as he shut and locked the door behind him. You watched as he shrugged off his black coat, his dark blue button up and well fitted slacks making you wonder where he had been today. Not that it mattered.

He threw his keys on the table, sighing heavily before looking back at you, brows furrowed as he examined you. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You said nothing, just stared at him indignantly. He wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what was going on, you were sure of it.

He took a small step towards you, seeming to test your waters. You stood still, not moving an inch. He approached you then, stepping over the pieces of shattered ceramic around you when he got closer.

Your chest was heaving with your breaths as you fought back the rise of tears you could feel threatening to well up again as you stared at him.

“Baby, you’re shaking,” he said as he grabbed your hands in his, his warm touch making you flinch. You hadn’t realized it, but he was right. You willed your hands to steady as he rubbed them in his, looking down at you, attempting to get you to meet his quizzical eye as he tilted his head. “Babe,” he said softly as his hands ran up your arms, coming up to hold your face. You couldn’t help the tears as they slipped down while you took a shaky breath in.

He gently took your face in his hands, his thumb wiping at the tears on your cheek as he looked at you with something akin to concern but not quite. Sympathy? Pity, maybe. You couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t take the way his touch was so comforting and disarming, not when you knew the truth now.

“Don’t, don’t! Don’t do that,” you cried as you turned your face away from him, attempted to at least, his hold on you not letting you go. “Don’t act like you fucking care,” you seethed through tears as you shoved at him. His jaw tightened in the slightest as he let you go. You stepped away, needing space as he stood in the midst of the mess on the ground.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, frustration and confusion edging into his voice, as if he really had no clue. “What’s going on? You gotta talk to me,”

“No. I don’t. You can drop the act, okay. I know. All of it, everything. I know, so just please stop playing dumb,”

“I really don’t-”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Max! Stop!,” you exclaimed in exasperation, moving to walk back to where you left your things. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t fucking care. I called a car, I’m leaving.” You finished shoving your things in your bag and zipped it up. You felt him walk up behind you, his steps slow and measured.

“You’re not leaving,” he said, unimpressed with your threat, clearly not taking you seriously. You turned sharply, eyes narrowing at him. You clutched your bag and moved to walk past him, only to be stopped as he blocked your way.

“Move,” you whispered angrily. He held eye contact with you, not budging from his spot, face completely stoic now as he stood before you. He considered you for a second before setting his eyes firmly on you.

“No,” he responded, blinking. The calm he had was not only frustrating but almost eerie.

You shook your head indignantly. “I’m not doing this. You got what you wanted, right? Right?” your voice raised of its own volition. You paused, swallowing hard and taking what you intended to be a grounding breath. “What else could you possibly want?” you bit, trying to speak clearly as your voice wavered, threatening to break as the tears rose anew in your glossy eyes. You flinched back as he reached out to touch you.

He took a heavy breath as he watched you before setting his jaw as his crystal blue eyes cut into you.

“Put your bag down,” he instructed, taking a step back before turning around and walking back over toward the couch, glancing around his apartment as he did. He exhaled a breath through his nose, shaking his head. “Made a hell of a mess,” he stated, coming to stand at the broken pieces of the statue you’d thrown. “Seems a bit dramatic,” he toed the mess of broken plaster with his shoe, “but you do have a thing for dramatics, don’t you,” he smirked, turning back to face you. You hadn’t moved from where you were standing, though you had a clear shot to the door. He was so unperturbed, it almost had you questioning yourself.

“Dramatic?” you breathed. “Says the man who’s been living a complete and total lie for months all for a bit of money,”

“A bit of money,” he barked a laugh. “Baby, come on, you’re worth more than just a bit of money.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, you did,” he smiled, walking back toward you, getting closer. You cringed but didn’t avoid his touch as his hand found your hip, pulling you closer. “Repeatedly. That first time was nice, wasn’t it. I took care of you, just like I said I would,”

“I trusted you, I - I gave you all of me,” you shook your head as you examined his face, “and the whole time, you… You’re terrible,” you said under your breath, holding his eye still.

“I’m not that bad,” he denied, pulling you closer. He took your bag from your hand and tossed it behind you.

“You used me. You tricked me, you-”

“Yeah, okay. Fine. I tricked you, I used you. And when everything was said and done, I was supposed to ditch you.”

Your breath caught as you saw the truth in his eyes.

“That was two months ago. And look, here you are. Here we are.” He wiped again at the tears slipping down your cheeks as your lip wobbled. “What did I do to you, huh? Did I hurt you? Did-”

“You stole from me.”

“No,” he denied sharply, shaking his head, “no I didn’t. I didn’t steal anything from you. Daddy dearest on the other hand,”

“Don’t talk about him,” you warned. He sucked on his lower lip before nodding.

“But you get it, don’t you. I mean, this was never about you,”

“Yeah, I get it,” you said with a harsh scoff and a grimace. “I was just a means to an end.”

“You were,” he nodded. “Supposed to be, anyway.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked away then. You weren’t entirely sure what you were feeling anymore... On one hand, he was right, he didn’t steal a thing from you. No, you thought bitterly, no, he just found you, wormed his way into your life and got you wrapped around his finger. Manipulated you into introducing him to your parents, something you had no plans of doing, knowing full well the disapproval they’d have. You weren’t aware of the payoff they’d offer him to leave you, had no idea he’d taken it…

He got the money. He should’ve ghosted you weeks ago. But he didn't, he was still right here… You were still here. Spending most days in his apartment, waking up in his bed, in his arms.

But what did that matter? He had lied to you and had every intention of using you and leaving you like it was nothing, were you just supposed to believe he wouldn’t now?

His hands sliding up your back as he leaned his forehead to yours brought you back to the moment.

“Max,” your voice wavered weakly.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m really sorry, okay? I was gonna tell you,”

“How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

He was holding you against him, his touch somehow easing the tension and anger from you as he did.

“You’re just gonna have to,” he said after a moment.

“What if I can’t?”

“I know you feel this between us. I know you don’t really wanna go, you could’ve walked out that door by now if you did,”

“But I should. Shouldn’t I?”

His eyes fell from your to your lips as he pressed against you, nose to nose as he whispered against your parted lips, “No.”

He kissed you then, soft and dedicated. Your eyes fell shut despite yourself, once again getting lost in his touch. You pulled back after a moment, visibly pained, not only the loss of his lips on yours, but by the inner struggle that was consuming you.

“I don’t think I can just forget everything,” you said sorrowfully, trying to pull away from him to no avail.

“You don’t have to, not everything. Yeah, there were some lies here and there, but listen,” he took your face in his hands as he stared down at you, “I never once was pretending with you. I didn’t have to. The second I bumped into you, I just knew there was something different. This wasn’t just another job, you, you were different. I felt things for you, I feel things for you. I haven’t had that happen in a long time, and never like this. You don’t have to forget everything, just forget the ulterior motives,” he tried to laugh. You took his hands in yours and moved them off your face. “I’ll help you forget,” he said, his voice low as his arms wound around your waist, pulling you flush to him. His lips were on yours before you could even register him getting closer, kissing you a bit harsher this time, hot as he pulled you even closer, hands holding you tightly. You broke the kiss and turned your face, his lips immediately attaching to your neck as he continued kissing you.

“Max,” you murmured as your lashes fluttered shut once again, your own arms coming up to hold him as his hands wandered your soft body, squeezing as he pleased while feeling you up.

“I’ll make it up to you, babe, I promise,” he spoke between kisses. “Promise,” he repeated in a murmur against your skin.

You knew you were being weak, letting him off way too easy, but you couldn’t deny the way you felt - the way he made you feel. You didn’t stop him as his hands slipped under your shirt. He pulled away for just a second to pull it off of you, his eyes taking in your curves as his hands held your waist, moving to unclasp your bra in the next moment.

Before pulling it off of you, he started walking you back toward his bedroom, you let him guide you as you stumbled backward until your legs were up against the edge of the bed. He pushed you to lie down, making quick work of his own pants and button up before crawling on the bed with you.

He pulled your bra off easily and quickly dropped his head to your chest, littering kisses all over you as his hands played with your full breasts, squeezing them firmly in his large hands before taking a pert nipple in his mouth, earning a soft moan from you as your hands found their way into his hair. He sucked at you, licking and nipping at your sensitive peak before giving the same attention to your other.

You could feel his stiffness straining against his boxers as he rubbed himself against you, nearly beginning to rut in his pleasure.

You pulled on his hair, a deep moan leaving his lips as he stopped his hips, kissing up your chest and neck until he was hovering above you, holding himself up on one arm while he stared down at you, his eyes dark blue and full of desire.

“I’m gonna make it up to you,” his voice was heady and husky as he lowered himself down on top of you, kissing anywhere he could, “you gonna let me, baby?”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to answer him as his lips peppered kissing along your face and jaw, back down your neck were distracting you. When he pulled away to look at you once again, his eyes were expectant, awaiting your answer.

“Yes,” you breathed, almost inaudibly. His lips crashed into yours the second you uttered the word. Both of you moaning into the other's mouth at the intensity.

His hands went to the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down as much as he could without parting from you. Sitting back on his haunches over you, you raised your hips for him to continue sliding the material down your thick legs, pulling your thong down with it and leaving you fully exposed to him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praised you as he ran his hands over your body, following the shape of your curves as his touch ignited a spark within you.

“Take them off,” you said, eyeing his boxers. His eyes flicked to yours, his mouth slightly parted as he moved to do as you instructed. Your eyes were glued to him as he rid himself of his boxers, then gripped his hard cock in his hand, pumping himself once almost teasingly. “Come here,” you sat up, pulling him back to you until you met with the bed once again. Max lined himself up to your entrance, dragging the head of his cock up and down your slit, teasing both of you as he played in your wetness briefly until he slid back to your slick hole, pushing himself in little by little while your breath caught in your throat, little moans escaping you from the stretch you still weren’t used to.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned as he reached his limit inside of you, your walls squeezing his length tightly as you mewled desperately. “That feel good, baby?”

“Mmm,” you nodded, hand reaching to touch his hip, “move,” you whined.

He chuckled softly before he rolled his hips against yours, dropping his head down to the crook of your neck. Your eyes squeezed shut at the delicious friction on your clit, sending sparks through you. Max slowly pulled out of you before pressing back in and again rolling his hips against you. He set a torturously slow pace, as you mewled and moaned beneath him, his grunts and groans sounding in time with you. When he rolled against you again, your walls squeezed him even tighter as your hands wound in his hair, your muscles tightening as he brought you closer.

He growled at the feeling of you around him, picking up his pace as he began fucking you deeper, chasing his own high as one of his hands drifted down between your bodies to play with your sensitive bud, drawing circles over your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

You nearly squealed at his touch, your stomach tightening and toes curling as your nails absentmindedly dug into his back. You came with a cry, as Max rocked into you.

“There you go, baby, let it go for me,” he whispered huskily in your ear. “Good girl, so fucking good,” he praised, his voice tight now as kept fucking into you until his own orgasm crashed over him, shooting his load inside of you. You were both breathing heavily as he collapsed on top of you.

You stayed that way for a minute until he slowly pulled his softening cock out of you, exhaling heavily as he turned to lay next to you. You were looking up at the ceiling trying to get a hold on your scrambled thoughts when Max pulled you into him.

“This is real,” he said against your temple before placing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you,” he whispered, causing you to freeze entirely against him, heart stopping and breath caught in your throat.

You pulled away, sitting up as you needed to look him in his eyes. “What,” you questioned breathily.

“I love you,” he repeated, eyes never leaving yours.

“Max, don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” your voice was breathy still as tears formed in your eyes, fighting against the lump forming in your throat. He took your face in his hands, pulling your face to his.

“I mean it. I love you,” he said, words dripping in sincerity so true it had your heart clenching in your chest.

“That doesn’t just suddenly make everything okay,” you told him dejectedly.

“Tell me what I have to do,” he prompted, “tell me what you need me to do, I’ll do it. I’m not gonna let this go, I’m not gonna let you go just because this didn’t start as serendipitously as you thought,”

You laughed almost bitterly at that bit, shaking your head.

“I don’t know what I need from you. But I guess the truth would be a good start.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know,” he agreed, pulling you in for another kiss, soft and gentle as you acquiesced to his lips.

“Everything,” you told him when you pulled away from his lips. “You’re gonna tell me everything. And then we’ll go from there.”

#max burnett x reader #max burnett x curvy!reader #max burnett x plus size!reader #max burnett #max sharper #max x reader #sebastian stan characters

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inoreuct · 4 months

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okay okay yes chef sanji is wonderful but baker sanji. confectioner sanji. think about it.

sanji kneading dough on a saturday morning with his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow. he has flour on his cheeks and one of those cute canvas aprons the colour of a brown paper bag with a million pockets and he keeps getting pissed off because strands of his bangs are constantly falling into his face. he makes sourdough and cheesecake and strawberry pavlova and tangerine tarts and dried mango nougat and carrot cupcakes that everybody eyed suspiciously before they actually tried them and now they're a friend group favourite.

he makes monthly batches of those agar-agar edible crystals for vivi's entire family and ships them by the crate to alabasta. he bakes robin and franky's blue raspberry black forest wedding cake. all of the straw hats have multiple packets of his dark chocolate dried fruit and nut and oat yoghurt brittle in their bags at any one time because they're the perfect snack and they're delicious. he makes red bean matcha mochi for zoro because the mosshead can't tolerate anything too sweet.

he has jar upon jar of aromatic infusions on the shelf: vanilla, black pepper, florals, all steeped in liquor to make high-quality extracts that he has gotten MULTIPLE offers to start a business out of, but he always declines because hello. he's busy cooking for straw hats and co.. luffy and fam. he has no time he is a busy busy man and would you look at that chopper's upside-down apple crumble is ready.

usopp makes him all sorts of contraptions, a high-speed blender, a state-of-the-art stand mixer, an ice-cream machine; sometimes if he's feeling lazy he'll go equipment shopping with sanji and just modify whatever they buy. sanji has a toffee hook on the wall of the galley and a very formidable collection of cookie cutters and piping tips. he's managed to make fondant that doesn't taste like utter trash and it's legendary. his salted caramel cashew macadamia popcorn has and will continue to make grown men cry.

but sometimes, he just chucks some charcoal in a pot and plops it in the middle of the dining table with a bowl of chocolate on top and brings out the fruit skewers, or the marshmallows and graham crackers. sometimes they eat rice krispy treats out of the packaging as they huddle together on the lawn and stargaze just because they can. sometimes the almond and dried cranberry combo just can't be beat and sometimes plain toast with butter makes you see god. but you'd best believe the next day he's up and at it again; his sourdough starter's looking more and more like a sentient life form by the hour and he has seven different things going on at once with two more bowls cooling off in the fridge and the oven preheating. i love baker confectioner sanji.

#black leg sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #one piece #strawhat pirates #straw hat pirates #straw hat crew #mugiwara pirates #op sanji #look he's just a silly little candy man okay #he's sweet let him make sweet things #ino writes #more of a braindump than anything else but i love sanji and i want to squish him into a waffle maker.

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cornerstoreclown · 1 year

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Laundry Day

Summary: This is a short one-shot (2830 words, approx.) where the Reader (Gender Neutral) has an undomesticated killer clown stopping by infrequently to use their shower and get his clothes cleaned. Some light domesticity, which is quite a feat, given this wild guy!

Trigger warnings: None this time, unless you really don’t like laundry, which is understandable.

Author’s notes: This was absolutely the first thing I wrote on a whim while trying to find my feel for Art. It feels very much like a toddler trying to learn to walk, so bear with me. Likes and reblogs are appreciated! It would be nice to know I’m not just filling up an empty room with no one in it. I hope to do some NSFW soon!

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Art was kind of hard to pin down. For anyone to really pin down, honestly. Those that knew him feared him, except you.

You can’t remember the exact date, but it was last year in October, and it was in the final week of the month, you think. That’s when you met him–that strange black and white clown who didn’t utter a single word. He was dressed up walking around the streets with a giant black trash bag slung over his shoulder. It was hard to miss him–he was covered head to toe in gore and dirt and mud. Poor thing looked miserable, and the wet flopping sounds of his shoes as he walked sounded a little uncomfortable.

Very clearly you can recall when he laid his eyes on you, and the way that he looked like he wanted to tear you apart, limb from limb. He approached you, and you hadn’t moved. Even when he stood a few mere inches away from you, then made the choice to jump at you to try and see if you flinched, nothing. That made him curious. Why didn’t you react? Most shrieked in horror or resorted to slinging insults.

“I… Have a washer and dryer back at my place. You wanna use it?” You asked him.

It was that single question that changed the trajectory of your entire life.

You didn’t have an ounce of self-preservation in your body that night, and to this day, you still don’t. Some things didn’t change.

Pan over to present time, months upon months later, where you’re in the same spot as you were the night that he took you up on that offer, sitting on a tiny stool in the laundry room with some clothes you were folding to put into the basket in front of you, spacing out until you hear the sounds of someone approaching. The bare footsteps are ones that you recognize, and you’re confirmed in your suspicions when you see him wearing nothing but a cotton white towel and his standard makeup. It was a little weird seeing him out of his outfit at first, but you’re used to it by now, and so is he, at you seeing him like this.

Evil was taking up residence in the vessel of a fleshy body that donned black and white. At first you wondered if he was human, but the longer you both spent together, you soon came to realize that he was something supernatural, and the more knowledge you had, the more questions it gave you. Why of all people, did he let YOU live? What did he see in you?

Art could have killed you. You knew this, and he knew this. It was a mutual understanding, but where else could a notorious killer have a place to hide, rest, have laundry done, take a shower, and eat all in one place without a care? You didn’t get in his way, and while you weren’t necessarily a murderer, you were at the very least complicit by giving the stray and feral clown a sort-of-but-not-really home.

“Hey, buddy! You look great.” You flash him a smile. “Feel better after the shower?” You’re never short of amazed at how he manages to keep his makeup so pristine. It always seemed to be in a flawless condition, even when he was looking rough.

Art takes a few seconds, raises his hands out wide to his sides to express how refreshed and brand new he feels, then drops them, giving an enthusiastic nod, eyes closed as he shows an even wider smile. You can see the flash of his teeth that look like they haven’t been brushed for at least... a while. He then brings his hands up to the front of him and gives a gentle clap, interlacing his fingers thereafter. The clown then gives you a few hopeful blinks and an innocently pleading look with a tilt of his head, looking at you, and then the washer and dryer.

“Oh, no,” You laugh. “It’s not ready yet. Still isn’t done with the wash cycle. You got your clothes really bloody, Art.”

And just like that, the puppydog-like eyes Art has been giving you disappear as he scoffs silently and impatiently. The clown’s arms go to fold across his chest.

“How many people did you kill exactly to get it that messy, Art?”

He gives a shrug and a turn of his head, as if asking for you to guess.

“Two?”

He gives you a ‘more’ gesture, hand held out and fingers wiggling which would otherwise look like he was telling you to come closer.

“Three?”

He’s still indicating for you to keep going.

“Four? Five?”

He raises his hand and tells you to stop, raising his finger.

“Five?”

A shake of his head no.

“Four, then.”

He points at you. You genius, you! You got it right! He’s smiling now again, clearly proud. He even gently claps for you.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You answer. You’re not really feeling one way or another about it. The initial shock has kind of worn off. You stare down at the clothes in your lap briefly when you see Art staring down at the basket.

“Yeah. I’m doing my own laundry. Folding it is a little bit of a pain, but I’m almost done.” And it’s true, you were very meticulous with folding. Normally you’d just have your clothes in the basket and unfolded, but you were trying to be a little more diligent instead of just fishing out what you washed the week before and putting it on. You’ve been struggling a little doing it, too.

The clown begins to approach you, and is rather leisurely at that. He’s relaxed and in his element here, familiar with the environment.

Familiar with you.

That makes your heart flutter a little, your mind in a daze that’s short lived, because Art is now close enough to you that you have to give him your full attention. Sometimes you still wonder if each time he visits will be the last time, and that one day he gives into that irresistible longing which ends with him pulling your intestines out of your lower abdomen like he were performing one of those endless magic scarf tricks. He’s thought about it, and while he hasn’t told you, you know. Maybe it’s a kind of unexplained psychic link that you swear you have with him nowadays, or maybe it’s just the simple fact that at the end of the day, he is what he is at his core–a predator. And you’re just prey.

You tense up a little when he leans down in front of the basket of folded clothes, and you watch him come close.

“Oh, you want to.. Help me fold clothes?”

He doesn’t answer, instead lifting up the laundry basket in front of you, and before it fully registers in your head what he’s doing, it’s already too late.

“Hey–No, no, Art, don’t–!”

Almost thirty minutes of folding, spilling right on top of you as you were about to stand up and try to stop him. Piece after piece of clothing falls on you, around you, and all around at your feet from where you’re sitting. You even see him pretend as if it was all by accident, looking shocked, even as he tosses the laundry basket off to the side where the plastic container hits the wall and clatters to the floor. He likes to be funny sometimes, but other times, it’s like he’s testing you.

Your heart rate immediately speeds up and your muscles tense as frustration makes your blood simmer. But it dies just as quickly as it rises, a flame snuffed out as he watches for your reaction, as if wanting to see if you’d let your anger get the best of you. As if that’d give him incentive to strangle you with one of your own sweatshirts, should things go south.

He was a jokester at heart, and that was part of who he was. Often when he was here, he’d ruin something because he’d think it was funny, or he’d just be generally chaotic and straight up unhinged. One time a few dishes were broken, then one day he brought home a half chewed on rabbit you think he caught, a few months ago he took your entire collection of knives that you used for cooking, no doubt to stab and murder someone with. You remember that he took all your razors from your bathroom too. Another time, he took your toaster? Literally just walked out of the house with it in that Mary Poppins black trash bag of his. What was yours was also his when he came to visit, and at the end of the day, you know it was better that he fucked with the things in your house instead of you. In this instance, it was something less offensive than destruction or theft–he just foiled your attempt at trying to be a little better with your clothes.

Instead, you just sigh, and look up at him. He’s tilted his head back, mouth open wide, eyes closed, pointing at you, silently laughing hysterically. You just know that if he had a voice, it would be bouncing off the walls right now.

Your lips thin out into a small line, lifting upwards into a faint but tired smile. Art was always a reminder to you to maybe not take things so seriously… After all, you might not wake up tomorrow.

“Funny.” You give a soft chuckle. Art is now slapping his knees as he’s leaned forward, still pointing at you. He’s got some audacity, you think, standing there in nothing but a towel, but you just shake your head and keep your smile present. You’re not going to go back to trying to refold the clothes. So much for trying, you’re just going to shove them haphazardly in your basket and put it on your bedroom floor and keep pulling from it until there’s practically nothing left. Fuck that. You tried, and therefore no one could criticize you.

A hand with wiggling fingers is out in front of your face suddenly, and when you glance up, Art is now looking down at you. You take his hand with no hesitation, knowing that if you only rejected him, he’d keep putting his hand in your face until you listened. When you take hold of it, his grip is tight. Tight to the point where it’s almost painful. He yanks you up to your feet out of the pile of clothes and you have no choice but to glance up at him. He’s taller than you, standing at what you guess is a little over six feet tall. Being so close to him always manages to take your breath away at some point.

“Thanks, Art.”

He gives you a pat on the shoulder, then grips it firmly to where it hurts a little, and gives you a few gentle shakes before letting you go. It’s a little jarring, but you’re fine with it. You still keep your expression pleasant, and had your hand rested overtop of his until he decided to let go. You give a few laughs.

“Hey, I didn’t get the chance to ask you right away when you came in, but where is your friend? Is she okay?”

The little girl.

Sometimes she was here, sometimes she wasn’t. She left messes of her own in your house, and they were often unsavory ones that you weren’t sure what they were, and you didn’t like dwelling on them. Liquids, mysterious chunks of sticky substance, among other things. Art however, thought she was a high class comedian, and so you went with it. She meant well in her own way, you suppose. But like all children, she had a habit of getting into things she didn’t need to be in. It was just another level of stress for you, so as much as it’s a relief that she’s not here right now, you still can’t help but worry a little. That was Art’s friend. She brought him joy. And what made Art happy was good.

The clown’s demeanor shifts a little at that, to which he stares at you for a few seconds before once again asking for your hand, to which you give him it. This time, the grip is much tighter than the one he used to pull you up with. This is the same kind of grip that you just know was amplified even further to rip open torsos and rip faces clean off to the bone. You feel fortunate that he’s shown restraint, and that he cares enough for you to deliberately not want to hurt you. He leads you from the laundry room to the next room over–the living room. Your living room.

The living room is pretty plain and standard, the main attraction being the couch, coffee table, and what he’s gesturing towards in front of both of those things–the flat screen.

“Oh, the television! Yeah, of course.”

He sits you down on the couch first, before seating himself. He reaches for the remote on the table and surfs the channels until it lands on the news, displaying the show of a cleaned up scene of the crime stained with blood out on a neighborhood street from what you recognize is the next county over.

LOVING FAMILY MAN FOUND DEAD OUTSIDE OF ESTATE, the headlines read, before going on about how a man was found outside of his home, arms chewed on and with a few pens jammed through his eyes straight into his skull. Following the details, there’s the show of a single tiny hat, one that you immediately recognize that would have a pigtail jutting out of it.

So, that’s where she was. Did anyone actually see her? Could she only kill people that could see her? There was no sketch provided, nor is it seeming as if there's any sense of awareness as to who the hat belonged to in the news report. You knew that she was selectively visible to certain people, but what determined that? Art can’t help but silently laugh and point at the screen, going so far as to reach out over to you to show you the answer to your question, and most certainly for you to also appreciate his friend’s handiwork. You laugh out of politeness, though you’re not really feeling one way or the other about it. Your head is swirling with questions as you try to figure out the logistics of the case. Was that actually her hat?

Just as soon as the news of the murder was on the television, it moved on. Local news tended to not dwell on topics for too long. They had a list of updates to go through and a short time to allot for it.

“Stay tuned for the upcoming documentary on the infamous terror on the streets every October–The Miles County Clown. We suspect he’s back. More at eight.” The news reporter says.

Art enthusiastically points at the television while looking at you, and you give him a nod of acknowledgement.

“Glad you’re getting the attention you deserve.” You tell him, and he gives you an incline of his head and a smile, before showing how pleased he is with the chef's kiss gesture. You actually do genuinely laugh at that. His body language was always… Charming.

Advertisements start playing and there’s just the weather and now national news up next until eight. During that time, Art reaches behind you and puts his arm on the top back part of the couch. While it’s not over your shoulder, you still feel enveloped by him all the same as you sit crisscross applesauce next to him, fiddling absentmindedly with your hair, fingernails, anything to keep you stimulated as the news prattles on.

It was kind of nice. The intimacy and domesticity–if you could even call it that–which the two of you shared was a special one. You’ve seen him exposed like this, and he’s seen you dressed down in a similar fashion before. Neither of you thought much of it, but you at least would find your gaze wandering, and you’ve seen him do the same a few times in turn. The chemistry is undeniable. There’s something there.

It was going to be maybe another thirty minutes until Art’s clothes are done in the wash and need to be moved over into the dryer. Just in enough time for the documentary on the Miles County Clown, who was right next to you. You start to feel a little tired, fatigue taking over you as you begin to, against your better judgment most certainly, lean against him a little to doze off briefly.

And he lets you.

The Miles County Clown has his hand on your back now, giving it a few gentle yet firm rubs before returning his arm on the top of the back cushion of the couch, intently watching the television. He might not be mortal, but you are, and he seems to understand that.

Those thirty minutes of rest are going to come in handy for the level of attention you’ll need to give him when you wake up.

#terrifier 2 #art the clown #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #terrifier #slasher x you #coulrophilia #minors dni #horror #slasher x reader #canon x reader

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weirdmageddon · 10 months

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Do you recommend reading homestuck? I really like your analysis and takes so I was curious when you talk about homestuck and want to know if I should read it and when to stop. I’m aware that it has its own unsavory elements but I was curious on your opinion

honestly yeah despite everything i honestly do. just don't read the epilogues or homestuck^2, they felt like a spit in the face to me. what i loved about the comic properly ends at ACT 7.

i think it's a marvel in world construction and scale, has very intriguing elements, and has excellent consistency in character voices and characterization. and i think about what hussie, as much of a dick as he is, once said back in homestuck's early years regarding this all the time because i think it's some the best character writing advice i've heard in my life; this is how i manage to think about it as well.

i think writing in voice is pretty simple. its mostly about consistency. choosing a set of parameters and committing to them absolutely. it can even be a shitty set of parameters and a crappy character. but if you keep hammering away at that voice, people will say, damn thats some pretty good characterization there! i mean… they might be WRONG. but theyll SAY it. the advantage in being so obstinate with the profile you choose is then any deviation you make will be very noticeable. this is to your advantage, if you can control these deviations with purpose and precision. such deviations can serve as the pillars for character development. they cant happen without the consistency first. and ironically, without the consistency, they DO happen. for the wrong reasons. because you fucked up. syntax is not a typical part of voice in most works but its one ive latched onto aggressively in HS and perhaps solidifies the illusion of strong voice. in fact ive become so conscious of syntax-voice, i noticed for some reason when answering these questions ive gravitated towards an ad hoc syntax, no caps, no apostrophes, otherwise punctuated. i am fearful of deviating from it. because it will mess with your heads if i do. and mine. See, look. Instant syntax upgrade. It’s hard to believe this is even the same person talking! Inconsistency can be one of great calling cards of utter trash. Glorious inconsistency, artful inconsistency even, I think is something to behold. It’s like a window into a defective mind. These are principles I employ in SBaHJ. They interest me for some reason. Will this sentence end with a period? No, looks like it won’t. But this one will. Why was that particular word misspelled? Why not just misspell every word? That would make no statement. It would invite no speculation into a uniquely defective thought process.

(x)

i highly recommend the authentic experience if youre gonna read it. tons of things you can do with this to make your read more comfortable too

#homestuck

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utterhomestucktrash · 1 year

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Drew one of the Pixielocks System's Alters Sunny ! ☀️ Was a little spur of the moment thing but the first time I've used lines in so long :) hope u guys like it

#pixielocks #pixielocks sunny #utter trash art #eye strain /#scopophobia #i likea the hair !! :) yellow is a cool colour

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eveindtub · 6 months

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this dialogue from ep 12 bts reminded me of kintsugi or kintsukoroi, which is a japanese technique used to restore broken pottery with gold.

"Kintsukuroi art lovers’ utter believe in awe, reverence and restoration can be easily portrayed through their rationale for keeping an object around even after it fell apart and then drawing attention to its cracks and repairs. It’s as if ‘resurrecting someone from the dead’ and simply taking breakage as an event in the life of an object instead of considering it it’s end. So, Kintsukuroi reincarnates the object that would otherwise end up being in trash. This Japanese art form is not something spiritual but is a way of embracing the flawed object that looks more beautiful than the original product."

i think this last line in specific it's such a comforting and beautiful way to look at topmew's relationship. considering how they started on some wrong footing and now they became better versions of themselves and of a couple.

the cracks of their relationship only built up for a beautiful final product. 🥹

#topmew #only friends series #only friends the series #forcebook

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drbtinglecannon · 1 year

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Taking a second to focus on my favorite background bits of this wonderful beautiful gigantic cast picture by Dresden Douglas (their Tumblr is "dresdoodles" give them some love!!! I did not tag them here so I'm not hitting them with a notification full of my stupid observations haha)

Obviously gotta go to Darius & Eber first. Look at the utter disgust upon Darius' face even touching Hooty (or maybe it's directed at Eber for being willing to bite Hooty), meanwhile Eber is bitebiteclawmaim-ing Hooty but despite the claw marks they seem to be ineffective. I wonder how much of Eber's attacking is for his own safety/curiosity vs trying to save his bestie Darius from the Ick™. They're just my favorite "opposites that are besties for life" duo I could talk about these goobers forever

Skara & Viney (& Puddles)! My girls! They're wearing their Emerald Entrails uniforms! Personally I think they're a cute ship but even platonically I love how different they are yet have become their own little duo within the flyer derby team

THE BATTS *hiss*. Katya & Derwin looking at each other & doing the pose like total cuties, meanwhile Amber is making SUCH a face haha. Did anyone else imagine food fanfic chick from s1ep1 would end up fleshed out & important enough to be part of her own little corner of a massive art piece containing most of the show's cast that's hanging in a gallery dedicated to the show?

Gilbert & Harvey Park and Perry Porter, the Dads. So Perry focusing on work still even in this moment is condemnable honestly, dude is tangled in a coil of Hooty & is like "I need to report on this". Meanwhile Harvey has big watery eyes & Gilbert has a soft smile. I love the detail that Gilbert appears to be carrying Harvey, it matches with him being a construction witch (so probably fit) & also it's a funny reflection to Willow with her looking more like Gilbert & also being the Buff™ friend

Mattholomule & his big bro Steve!! Rip Steve this isn't the first time -- or even second time -- Hooty's taken him out, and it probably won't be the last. I love getting the brothers next to each other, helps show how similar they look. Matty is fairing better than Steve but he seems to be struggling himself. That's fair, boys, Hooty is certainly unpredictable

Grandma lesbians made it, good for them

You know that Gwen&Dell are looking at how happy their daughters & grandkids all are, like you know the scene before then is a dream come true kinda soft feeling that they've wanted for their daughters for decades

I love the fond expression on Emira's face looking at Edric, vs the confusion/surprised one on Alador's face. Edric's fine tho look at him he's having fun. Odalia can't even look at her family and is just absolutely scowling, but Kikimora is right beside her so horrible trash women Odalimora canon

You KNOW that Willow fanboy is shouting "WOooOOOooo GO WILLOW" seeing her & Hunter together. I think it's extra funny Boscha is right next to him looking like she's sucked on a lemon with Kat shrugging at Amelia but neither looking surprised by Boscha's antics. (as someone who always hated bos//low it's just such funny staging imo, I know it's probably not that but it's still funny)

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leahsgf · 9 months

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flicker of hope

pairings. adult lottie matthews x reader

you have struggled with your anxiety for as long as you could remember, but with lottie you feel like you can get through anything.

description of anxiety and panic attacks!

the bitterness of the cold nipped at your skin, joining your mind in taunting you as you slumped down against a tree, an unplanned detour from your final jobs of the day around the compound.

you’d felt the weight of your anxiety compressing against your chest from the moment you had awoken, teasingly, like some twisted social experiment to see how long you could bare to fight it before it inevitably consumed you.

“fuck” you threw your head back, feeling the scratch of the bark behind you as the lump in your throat grew strength, and tears began to silently slip out and down your reddening cheeks.

your bad days were now considered rare in comparison to the decades ago when you were stranded, and the gnawing, looming voices inside of you had actual reason to grip onto and control you with, like a puppet on strings. however, even years after you’d been rescued, every now and again that puppet would be ripped from it’s prior abandonment and tormented, when you least expected it and without reason, making your feelings even more overwhelming and complicated, especially now that you’re expected to of left every aspect of the wilderness behind you with the time passed, and stories were no longer published in the news about it, meaning no therapist cared to see you either.

“you love and care so deeply about every little thing that it consumes all of you. i couldn’t imagine a more exhausting existence.” one particular doctor had uttered to you once, paired with the typical sympathy laced look in her eyes that made your stomach drop that little bit more.

you were your own biggest enemy. it was a simply a fact, one that no medication or fancy degree would truly ever solve. you shredded yourself from the inside out before anyone else could even come close to doing so, something you’d done since the days when you would simply rip up your finger paintings and cry because everyone else’s would automatically be better than yours no matter how hard you tried, and it utterly exhausted you.

lottie was your one constant throughout everything. she always had been. she was the one who, at the age of six, would pull your torn up art out of the trash when you weren’t looking, before spending all night taping each of the tiny pieces back together and returning them to you anonymously, with a smiley face and a note saying how beautiful it looked scrawled across the back.

your dynamic had always remained similar to this, and you knew that she loved you. every single inch of you. she reminded you of it every single morning in the mirror, and in every note she’d leave dotted around the house, with the same smiley face and handwriting that had been engrained into the very workings of your mind for decades. you loved her so much that it terrified you that she’d one day see you the way you see yourself in moments like this, that the love would one day slip - and she’d leave you.

no matter how hard she had tried to guide you into it, insisting that it’d help and that she’d never judge you, you had always refused to completely break down in front of her, or anyone, even in the crash, out of the sheer fear that consumed you.

you’d been avoiding her all day, having long predicted the inevitable - skipping your usual breakfast together in favour of ‘getting a head start on your jobs and classes’ and rushing around to ensure that your paths wouldn’t cross, knowing that she would’ve seen straight through you with even a glimpse in your direction. instead, you let the mere whispers in your head gain power and volume, until you were thoroughly overwhelmed, and lisa’s simple correction when you were helping load the van for the upcoming market sent you running off into the depths of the woods.

you had never learned your lesson in bottling everything up until it was too late, putting off talking about what was on your mind in hopes that it would resolve itself, and simply disappear. but they never did. not once. the bottle always got too full, shattering into sharp edges that cut into you before you could even flinch.

you buried your head into the coldness of your hands, as you shuddered, clinging onto the last shred of composure that you had before you completely broke down, as the looming darkness and distant echoes of your name pulled you from the depths of your thoughts, and sent even more panic surging through you.

lottie had felt deep inside, long before lisa had approached her full of concern for you, that something was up. she had been in your life for as long as she could remember, and no matter how hard you tried to shield it from her she always knew. it was just something in her. upon hearing about your sudden disappearance and your general demeanour, she too ran in the direction of the woods, almost directly mirroring your actions.

as the thickness of the trees enveloped her and her feet burned as she moved, she had a feeling she knew exactly where you would be. it was a habit you had adapted during the time you had been stranded. one that she had yet to of seen you you come to since then, disappearing and sitting against one specific tree when you were having one of your really bad moments and didn’t want her to see you.

there was a particular tree nearby that you had discovered together on a walk years ago, shortly after lottie’s return from switzerland and your reunion, your hands only once parting from one another’s to carve your initials into its bark. you had spent hours there, making up for the time that had been stolen from the pair of you, and it became your spot. lottie had since built the compound and had grown her community in the surrounding area, wanting to cherish the meaning of it and the part it had played in bringing you back together, and it had always remained an incredibly special place for the both of you.

she found you with ease, as if on autopilot, and almost melted with concern and relief as you came into her eyeline, her intuition proving correct. she rushed towards you, feeling her heart break as she kneeled down on the ground in-front of you, discarding the way her robe became dusted with mud as she guided you into the familiarity of her embrace. your walls crumbled miserably as her warmth enveloped you, and the tips of her fingers traced your back, the last kick of encouragement the sobs previously trapped in your chest needed to break free.

“i’m right here with you, sweetheart. i’m not going anywhere, just let it out.” she soothed, coaching your breathing as you trembled in her arms, tears dampening the softness of her clothing as you pressed your face further into her neck.

“i can’t, i can’t-” your face burned, as your chest tightened and a stream of incoherent apologies and cries fought past your lips.

“it’s okay, it’s okay. just look at me.” she spoke to you with such love and softness that it made you feel like the crumpled up pieces of art of yours that she was taping back together.

“i’m sorr-“ lottie lightly guided your chin, thumb caressing your cheek as you locked eyes.

“you have nothing to be sorry for. ever. you are everything to me, and i love you, all of you, unconditionally. i’m here baby, just breathe with me.” she pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering for just a second longer and closing her eyes as she ever so gently rocked you, knowing without hesitation exactly how you needed to be comforted, like it was natural, a language that she was fluent in but yet never had to learn.

“things may feel impossibly hard to navigate right now, but i’ll do all of it for both of us, okay? put it all on me.”

you had never felt like you deserved the goodness, and pure light that was lottie. you didn’t think you ever truly would. she taught you not only how to receive love but how to love someone else, completely and through everything. allowing yourself be so vulnerable around somebody else, and beginning to let the long standing walls you had up was a challenge, but lottie matthews has never been just somebody to you.

and although things were complicated, and painful, and messy at times, she was your flicker of hope. that you could fight it.

that you could beat it.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #lottie mathews x reader #lottie yellowjackets #lottie matthews comfort

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miraclemaya · 2 months

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do you know what is something bizarre. a lot of people seem to think that like bad art or "cash grabs" are made without passion or love. like no actually passion or love are in no ways signifers of good art. so much utter trash is made with so much passion, it just doesnt mean it's good

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misslili265 · 2 years

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hello, sweetheart. sooo, if you finished the series... can i ask dom Giyu, pls?? he is literally the personification of repressed emotions. let the boy get a little mad

Hey Love, it took me too long, sorry, but here it is your adorable emo boy, be a good girl with him today, he is mad... 💓

YANDERE GYIU X F.READER ( AU MODERN)

⚠️ It's a Yandere you can see dark themes

The hands pull the tie that until now was choking Gyiu. Suffocating, he looked in the mirror and reflected all the suppression that he feels lately come in around his mind.

At the sink hands as beautiful as marble, are fixed in support of the body. In the mirror the serious look and full of a whirlwind of emotions when looking at himself the he knows, today will be different.

Being a teacher is not an easy task, he needs to be assertive, patient and donate... always everything he does it's for the benefit of others. But today some peoplegonna be surprised... groups of students causing bullying on others in the school corridor were not only verbally warned as usual, it was possible to see the focused sensei Gyiu, pulling the cowards ones of the institution by their robes, in addition to taking few and good with the thrusts of a daggers, which came out of Gyiu's mouth as he talked about, how they were nothing but trash to society and how they didn't think for themselves but always followed the sheepdog like sheeps.

Those students returned home with their spirits crushed, as they have done several times for other students, today for sure, they would have a lot to think about...

while this, in the teachers' lounge when trying to prepare his own classes, Gyiu has a colleague teasing him, this was part of Gyiu's routine, until now, the math teacher Shinazugawa, whenever he has the opportunity, approaches to Gyiu to subliminally say that Gyiu's function does not perform the same importance in which Shinazugawa works.

Gyiu's mind is exhausted and he makes a decision. " No more."

With a gaze as deep as the Laurentian abyss, Gyiu rises from his chair, words are not uttered, but Sanemi's sarcastic smile is soon transformed into a hard-to-named set, as Gyiu's fists are kissing his face as he punch him, Shinazugawa is repeatedly beaten.

The teachers around, watching the scene in shock, rush to an intervention.

Who separates them is Gyomei, who calmly talks to the two. "- Gyiu, I understand your anger towards Shinazugawa, however, we don't want to set this example for children, please calm down." Says Gyomei gently placing his hands on Gyiu's shoulder which starts to let the air enter more smoothly into his panting lungs.

Shinazugawa is wiping the blood from his mouth with his shirt cuff, and not satisfied threatens Gyiu. Looking contemptuously.

But this time Gyiu take the lead and responds. "- I just hit you because I'm tired of your voice next to my ear, you don't make any difference in my life, for me you're nothing but a dog that was torn apart by someone, look at you, disgusting. I'm not afraid of a damn chihuahua like you. "

The embarrassment that Gyiu's words caused Shinazugawa was enough for him to jerk his arm out of Professor Kyojuro's hands and at that moment the most he could do before heading out of the room was to respond with a grunt. "- Tch."

The art teacher, Uzui breaks the tension of the moment, Gyiu "- I have to admit, Shinazugawa is a torment sometimes. And your punches were flamboyant, hahaha."

Gyiu doesn't respond. He just moves in a way to spoil his neck that snaps back, and goes again to his function. The room is silent, everyone is surprised, no one expected this, not from Gyiu. Who is always silent , calm and serene. But they realized something important this time, underestimating Gyiu would be a mistake, after all, he tame the explosive Sanemi Shinazugawa, and let's say that this is not an easy task.

Finally, at the end of the day, this moment is always special and awaited by Gyiu, who knows that in the following steps, he will soon be guided to your desired presence where he always find peace.

The door to Gyiu's shrine opens, the home he shares with his beloved wife, you.

But he's coming in and you're getting ready, the uniform shows you need to do an extra shift at work, this happens all too often, let's say that Gyiu got tired of it too. Just as he got tired of not having your cozy warmth around when he needs it most, it's at this moment that Gyiu is thinking as he looks at you, and decides for you, you can see he analysing your figure, you get a little stunned, but needs to leave for work.

You kiss him sweetly on the cheek and say goodbye."- Love, I'm leaving, see you later."

Normally he would respond with, "I love you too." Today, Gyiu's response was instead to let you go he goes to grab your wrist. "- Y/n, today, you will stay at home, with me."

You are surprised, and you try to understand. "- Honey but..."

"- I won't repeat mysel." He answers coldly. Gyiu takes the phone out of his pocket and looking into your eyes he is making a call while still holding it close to him. As the phone rings he raises his eyebrows in a warning and says

"- Shhhhhh... hello, I'm Tomioka Gyiu, I'm y/n's husband, sorry to inform you but she is not feeling well and won't be able to do the night shift, I needed call earlier but I couldn't, I hope you understand, thank you."

You are apprehensive.

"- Don't worry, your boss's reaction was just of concern, you will remain here, with me today."

Gyiu's hands now slowly are guided to your face, of course you are slightly scared, but, with you he wouldn't be like he did with everyone around, no, but he wants everything to go as he wishes today.

"- Y/n, put on that dress I like."

In his tone you can hear, he is not asking, he is demanding.

The fear is screaming in your eyes.

Gyiu always so calm has suddenly turned into a domineering man, you think twice before say something so as the things are like this you have to be silent.

As your "boss" said, you leave his presence and goes to your room, where you open your closet, taking from it, Gyiu's favorite dress, he loves when you put it on, the summer dress he gave you, it's comfortable, at the height of your thighs and has a certain transparency, the fabric lightweight is smooth to the touch.

While feels the fabric gently enveloping your body, as you look at yourself in the mirror, Gyiu's reflection it's already waiting, you couldn'thear his steps, with his arms crossed and waiting for you.

Your heartbeat is racing and the questions keep running through your mind. "What happened? Why is he behaving like this?" But today you don't will do nothing against his will...you slowly turn to him, showingyourself as your hands goes through the dress and your your face goes toward his.

Gyiu slowly walk to you. Again, your face is caressed, and your hair get into his game, being entwined between Gyiu's delicate movements of his fingers.

He comes closer and sticks his nose to your neck taking a deep breath and letting out his hot air.

In an hallucinate state he says. "Oh, oh...my y/n... how I want to smell this delicious scent of yours all night long."

Even seeing that Gyiu is different, you can't help but feel the shivers rising and falling caused by your husband's breathing, you cringe slightly.

Gyiu, seeing your reaction to his touch, goes crazy.

Grabbing you by the waist he kisses you as if he were going to swallow your mouth, it's a deep and intense kiss, you practically can't breathe, Gyiu doesn't want care about it, give your way y/n.

His body is thrown with yours on the bed. Gyiu continues to caress you madly, kissing you and using his lovely and experienced hands to run through your entire being and squeezing you all over at the point to make that spots purple later.

For a moment he stops and before saying what he has in mind, Gyiu invite you to look at his sapphire eyes. Oh...those blue eyes are the ocean that drowns you every time you dive in, the suffocating feeling of always getting lost in it is terribly pleasurable.

As an alpha he claims. "- Today you are my y/n, only mine."

Gyiu has a lot of stress to release, and I don't imagine it's little, but with you, all evasion will be in the form of the most possessive and genuine love.

Lucky woman...

#demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #tomioka x reader #gyuu x reader #yandere demon slayer #yandere x reader #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere tomioka x reader #kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #uzui x reader #yandere muzan #gyomei x reader #yandere kny #yandere kny x reader #obanai x reader #yandere demon x reader

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minijenn · 4 months

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Jen Tortures Herself With Every Dreamworks Animated Movie Ever: Prince of Egypt

Papa Bless (literally) its time for me to talk about one of my favorite animated movies, nay, one of my favorite MOVIES ever made. Prince of Egypt is a work of art. Hands down, it is one of the most incredible movies I have ever seen. I'm not even religious (I did grow up Christian and am now a Filthy Heathen but that's beside the point). The real point is that this movie is one that I think can be enjoyed by anyone reguardless of religion. At its core, they took a simple biblical story and turned it into something with raw passion and emotion and art. And I simply adore it.

Every time I watch this movie, its such an experience for me. I always fall in love with new things, from the fantastic character designs, to the insanely lovely animation to the beautiful songs and score to the way the story is told and the emotions the characters go through with it. Everything in this movie feels huge, weighty, and important. It's very respectful to its source material while making changes that make it work better as a film, particularly the brotherly dynamic between Moses and Rameses that adds a whole new layer of drama onto the story.

As for that story, we all know the Exodus story by now so I'll spare you on that and discuss the things the movie does on its own. That dynamic between Moses and Rameses is at the heart of the movie and it really is just a devestating tragedy to watch them break apart and become enemies because of the huge responsibilities thrust onto both of their shoulders. The fact that tragedy ends on such a heartcrushing note too its just... god. (literally god, get it? cause this is all his fault lol jk ok)

Moses is fantastically written, a great main character to follow who has compelling drama, at first about his true identity and how he struggles to comes to terms with it and then grappling with having to oppose Rameses to set the Hebrews free. Rameses himself may just be one of Dreamworks best villains, you really do feel bad for him but you also know he's bringing so much of this suffering on himself because of his own stubborn pride. The rest of the cast is also fantastic, Tzipporah is lovely and really fun, Miriam is an absolute sweetheart, Aaron is a sassy little loser but I love how he comes around in the end, and well, God is God (the burning bush scene tho, can we talk about that? fucking INSANE)

The MUSIC man, each song is SO damn good its hard for me to even pick a favorite. Deliver Us is such a strong opening, a wonderful way to set the stage that makes the stakes feel high right from the start. All I Ever Wanted is a great way to show the life Moses always knew cracking from the inside out. Through Heaven's Eyes is just a bop with a lovely message about change and growth. Playing with the Big Boys is delightfully sinister and the Plagues, oh GOD THE PLAGUES???? INSANE MAN SO DRAMATIC AND INTENSE AND THE IMAGERY IS JUST??!?!?! BRUH! When You Believe might be my favorite though, it starts out somber but grows into this hopeful triumph of excitement and relief and its absolutely beautiful.

This movie is so beautiful to look at too! The composition of some of these shots, the storyboarding, the facial expressions, the set pieces, the movement of the animation, its all so expertly crafted, so entrancing to watch every second of it. Like I said at the start, this movie truly is an utter work of art in every sence of the word.

I've been gushing about this movie for long enough I think, but I can't help it! It's honestly that good! And its so hard to believe that it came hot off the heels of a trash heap like Antz. Like bruh how were they cooking that shit and the godsend that is Prince of Egypt at the same time??? Insane, utterly insane. This studio is ridiculous.

Anyway, Prince of Egypt is the GOAT and I will fight you if you disagree.

Overall Rating: 10/10

Verdict: Tzipporah marry me pls

Previous Review (Antz)

Next Review (Road to El Dorado)

#jen watches #prince of egypt #dreamworks watch #dreamworks animation #jen tortures herself with every dreamworks animated movie ever

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