#i am completely normal about these two...

[formulafanfics13]

You have a sister? - 1

Masterlist

Summary When George Russell asks if he can bring his 24-year-old sister to Silverstone for her first-ever Formula 1 weekend, Toto Wolff says yes without a second thought. What he doesn’t expect is a feral, curvy, wildly unbothered woman with a resting bitch face and a laugh that could derail strategy meetings. She’s not here to flirt. She’s not here to be impressed. And she’s definitely not here to play nice. But when Toto finds himself drawn in anyway, things escalate fast. George sees it coming. Lewis fans the flames. And what starts as a simple invitation becomes... the Silverstone Situation.

Warnings Explicit language, sexual tension, implied smut incoming, family banter, sibling bickering, chaos brewing, soft dom Toto energy on the horizon, Lewis Hamilton being emotionally unserious, and George Russell experiencing premature grey hairs

George didn’t usually bring his personal life into the paddock. Not because he was hiding anything, but because he liked boundaries. He liked routine. He liked clean lines between his world and the one beyond it. But that morning in the Mercedes motorhome, legs crossed, fingers twitching against his water bottle, he broke his own rule.

Toto glanced up from his laptop, brow raised. “You look like you’re about to confess something criminal.”

“I kind of am,” George muttered. “I need a favour.”

Toto didn’t blink. “Does it involve PR? Mechanics? Social media scandals?”

“No. My sister.”

Toto’s eyes narrowed like he was scanning for a name on some invisible HR list. “You have a sister?”

George nodded. “Yeah. Y/N. She’s twenty-four. She’s never been to a race.”

Toto leaned back in his chair, giving George a rare full-body once-over like he was trying to detect a lie. “How do I not know this?”

George sighed. “Because she’s normal. She doesn’t care about Formula 1. Like at all. She’s got a job in publishing, I think. Or PR. Or something with books? Anyway, she lives in Camden. She’s completely uninterested in all of this.”

“And you want to bring her to Silverstone?” Toto asked, fingers steepling.

“Yeah. She asked, randomly. Said she figured it was about time she saw what I actually do. And she’s right. She’s never been.”

Toto gave a noncommittal shrug. “Of course. She’s welcome. Just give comms her details so we can sort a pass.”

George hesitated. “She’s… she’s kind of a lot.”

Toto’s head tilted. “Define ‘a lot.’”

George winced. “Feral. Smart as fuck but mouthy. Thinks everything’s a joke. She wears big sunglasses indoors. Refuses to watch Drive to Survive. Drinks iced coffee in the rain.”

Toto looked like he was holding back a laugh. “So, not a fan of the sport?”

“She once called a podium ceremony ‘a man glitter parade.’”

That did it. Toto actually smiled. “I’m intrigued.”

“Don’t be,” George warned. “You’re not her type.”

“I wasn’t aware I was applying,” Toto said dryly, returning to his screen.

George mumbled something under his breath.

Toto looked up again. “What was that?”

“She goes for older guys,” George muttered. “Like, old. Silver foxes. Once made a Pinterest board titled ‘Men Who Could Ruin Me and Fix My Boiler.’ You’re literally her demographic.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Toto’s mouth twitched. “Good to know.”

George shot out of his seat like he could reverse time with enough physical movement. “I take it back. Forget I said anything. I’ll tell her she can’t come.”

Toto stood slowly, walking to the espresso machine. “Don’t be ridiculous. I look forward to meeting your sister.”

George groaned into his hands. “She’s going to make me regret this.”

Toto didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. The glint in his eye was answer enough.

*

George was already sweating. He’d woken up at 6, texted you twice, called you once, and spent the next two hours pacing the paddock with the same nervous energy as a man awaiting medical results. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. It was that he knew you. And bringing you into the one environment where his professional, clean-cut, PR-sanitised life existed was… brave. Or idiotic. He couldn’t decide which yet.

You’d sent him a photo from the train platform: oversized headphones, your best resting bitch face, and a full iced latte with “to Silverstone we go 😎☕️🎪” written across it. He hadn’t replied. He was already in emotional hell. And now you were here.

He spotted you at the main entrance, standing beside a security guard who looked equally confused and charmed. You were wearing wide-leg black trousers, a cropped top that read “Fuck The Patriarchy But Gently,” a leather jacket draped over your arm, and sunglasses that belonged on a yacht in Cannes.

You clocked George from across the paddock and raised one hand in a lazy wave like you were arriving to a dinner party you might leave early. He sighed, shoulders dropping. “Oh God.”

Lewis Hamilton appeared beside him out of nowhere like some beautiful, chaotic fairy godmother. “That her?”

George didn’t look at him. “Yep.”

“She’s hot.”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m serious,” Lewis grinned. “You’re gatekeeping a whole woman?”

“She’s my sister.”

“She’s giving PR nightmare with excellent bone structure. I love her.”

“Lewis.”

“I’m just saying, if she starts a cult, I’ll join.”

You reached them then, pulling your sunglasses down your nose just enough to make eye contact. “You must be Lewis,” you said, voice lazy, amused, unimpressed.

Lewis’s grin doubled. “And you must be George’s sister. Pleasure.”

You shook his hand like you were interviewing him. “You’re prettier in real life.”

“And you’re exactly as terrifying as George said you’d be.”

George made a sound like he was dying quietly. “Okay. That’s enough. Y/N, do not harass the drivers.”

“Relax,” you said, patting his chest with your iced coffee hand. “I’m just here to observe.”

“Observe what?”

“The circus,” you smiled.

Lewis actually snorted. “I fucking love her.”

George looked skyward like he was praying for strength. Then a shadow passed over your shoulder. Toto Wolff had exited the hospitality suite.

He was holding a phone in one hand, black shirt sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, brows slightly furrowed as he read something off screen. But then he looked up. Briefly. Casually. Just to get his bearings. And he saw you.

You didn’t notice at first. You were too busy rolling your eyes at George’s warnings and letting Lewis link arms with you. But Toto paused mid-step. His gaze lingered a second too long. Head tilting slightly. Expression unreadable but engaged. Then he continued walking, but not before glancing over his shoulder once more.

Lewis noticed. Oh, Lewis definitely noticed. He grinned like the cat who’d swallowed the paddock.

“Y/N,” he said, leading you toward the Mercedes hospitality area. “Wanna see where we keep the good coffee and secrets?”

“Sounds fake but sure.”

George followed behind like a man walking into his own funeral. “This is going to end in disaster.”

Inside, the Mercedes suite was cool, sleek, everything you expected from a team run by men with Rolexes and sharp cheekbones. You admired the design, nodded approvingly at the espresso machine, and immediately made yourself at home in the nearest lounge chair.

Lewis flopped beside you. “Do you have any interest in racing at all?”

“I watched Cars once.”

He wheezed.

Toto entered a moment later, still reading something on his phone. But when he looked up and saw you again, he offered a small, polite nod. “You must be Y/N.”

You stood slowly, offering your hand. “That’s me.”

“Toto Wolff,” he said, taking your hand with one of his own and placing the phone in his pocket with the other. “Pleasure.”

He held your gaze just a fraction longer than necessary.

The warmth of his palm was unexpected. So was the way he smelled - clean, subtle, expensive.

You smiled faintly. “Likewise.”

George was in the corner trying to die as quietly as possible.

“She’s just here for the weekend,” he muttered. “Total civilian. No interest in motorsport.”

“None at all?” Toto asked, letting go of your hand, but not moving far.

You shrugged. “It’s loud. Fast. Aggressively male. Not really my thing.”

Toto smiled slightly. “Maybe you just haven’t had the right tour.”

Lewis leaned forward. “Is that an offer, boss?”

George nearly choked on air. “No. No offers. No tours. She’s fine with me.”

Toto’s smile widened. “Of course.”

But you were already looking at him with a different kind of amusement. Like maybe the circus wasn’t so boring after all. And George? George stared between you, his boss, and his teammate like he was watching a slow-motion car crash. “I should’ve left her in Camden,” he whispered to himself.

[ceilidho]

ceil this is a very random question but im approaching my 30s and feeling really self conscious bc all my friends are getting married or engaged or just generally in a relationship and i am feeling more and more isolated

did you ever feel like this when you get to your 30s or like is this a normal feeling?? sometimes i think i spend too much time writing and reading fanfic about men so that real ones don't match up lol

everyone feels that way, don’t worry! There’s an immense amount of pressure around turning 30 - I know because I spent like 3 years stressing because of it, and the last year was BRUTAL. There are so many expectations to settle down, buy a house, get a promotion, and maybe pop out a kid or two, but I’ll be sooooo honest, the second you turn 30, all of that pressure suddenly vanishes and you’re like oh this is fine. Literally turning 30 was what took away all my stress.

Personally I recommend completely eschewing dating apps because while I think people can still have some luck with them, the golden age of using tinder/bumble/hinge is over. The best place to meet people is actually out in your community - at the gym, local coffee shops / restaurants (become a REGULAR), classes, the park, etc.

Also please always remind yourself that it is SOOOOOO MUCH BETTER. INCONCEIVABLY BETTER. To be single than to be dating some boring dumbass loser who doesn’t cherish and adore you. It is SOOOO much better to be single.

[goomyloid]

Crazy how I found you from your Snowgrave art, and you became my favorite snow grave artist- then I started tracking down this fascinating art of an UTY AU with Kanako and how utterly bittersweet it was I kept wanting to read more. And it turns out you made both. Keep it up!

eheheh yup i forgot about my UTY au… well i didnt, i just decided that i wasn’t gonna actively work on it anymore till i felt like it. i had an entire story planned out, with all the different loops going a specific way (and associative flowers for each one)

for those unfamiliar, i had a UTY au where kanako was never injected with the serum and got to grow up normally. (post one) (post two)

since i may not end up finishing it at all, im ok with sharing what would’ve happened:

after the loop where everything was perfect with clover, kanako wakes up at the start again, and this time around, clover is inexplicably doing a no mercy run. ceroba instructs her to evacuate but she slips away at the last second, determined to face clover, because there’s no way they can really be killing everyone, right?

well, they were. and unlike a lot of no mercy boss battles you see, kanako has nothing special up her sleeve. she tries to fight them, and only holds out for a little while before she succumbs. she’s completely taken aback by their huge shift in attitude; not only is clover cold, but they’re cruel, merciless. it almost made kanako angry. this WASN’T clover. they were incredibly misguided, obsessed with their own sense of justice. kanako was hurt, even though she knew clover couldn’t remember her. it wasn’t fair.

so, as she dies, she knows she’ll just wake up again like nothing happened. who knows what the next clover will be like? will they be good or evil? it doesnt really matter. all she says as she turns to dust is,

* S-sorry, Clover…

* You didn’t… really think I’d be all that strong, did you?

* But you fought me, you… you LOOKED at me like I was the scum of the earth.

* …

* That’s so mean, Clover…

* You’re so mean…

* …

* I-it’s okay, though.

* I’ll be okay.

* Next time… I’ll show you that… you can’t just do whatever you want. I won’t let you throw it all away…

* Even if I have to hurt you.

* See you soon, Clover.

and then the timeline ends.

(before / after)

kanako wakes up again. in her bed, like normal. the next clover could be good, they could be bad. they could stay with her, they could leave her. they could live with her, they could kill her. she can't take anymore. just once. just this once, she'd like to be the one in control. in control of what happens to her, what happens to clover.

so she gets out of bed, heads to her father's lab, and grabs the serum that ceroba had been developing for years.

when clover finally shows up, they look... normal. this could be another perfectly fine loop. they approach her, and she looks at them sadly;

* ... Oh.

* Hi, Clover.

* ... You look surprised.

* You're surprised that I already know your name.

* ...

* I know a lot about you.

* I know what kind of gun you use. I know how good you are at all the arcade games. I know what time you like to wake up in the morning.

* I know there's a side of you

* That deeply hates monsters and wants to destroy them.

* ...

* Haha. Now you look even more surprised.

* Am I completely wrong? Or does it scare you that I'm right?

* It's okay. I don't really care about an answer this time.

(She holds out the syringe.)

* I don't care if you're good or bad.

* I don't care if you've helped everyone or killed everyone.

* Because right now

* Your choices don't matter.

* So let's have some fun

* On my terms this time, okay?

She injects the serum and transforms. it's vastly different from what it was years ago; instead of a haphazard containment of determination, it was refined and repurposed by ceroba after strenuous research. that being said, it's still not necessarily done yet. kanako knows this.

the serum gives her a monstrous new form that clover has to fight against (i never got around to designing this.... i still want to....). she's strong, incredibly strong, and clearly the serum is much better this time around. but still, she drips. slowly but surely, she drips.

she eventually kills clover, and then still dies herself, her body unable to contain the power of determination. thus, the loop ends.

AND THEN. there's one last loop. one last time. after all the Horrors that have happened, it's just kanako finally accepting the clover was never meant to stay with her. she collapses at their feet, sobbing apologies for things she technically never even did. clover is sympathetic, sure, but at the end of the day, they must go. they always must go.

but this time, as they leave, clover finally looks back at her -- maybe her tears touched them, the two of them finally able to have a simple, genuine interaction. they turn to her and say:

"I'll see you again, okay?"

it didn't really matter if it was true or not. kanako knew it very well may not be true. but she wanted to believe. that some time, some day -- not in a loop, but in honest time moving forward -- she would see them again, but she has to let them go. she needs to have faith in them, to find hope in her heart. to let go of that desperation as the primrose wilts, and anemones bloom in its place.

oh yeah each ending had flowers associated with them. i went back and found my doc, untouched since january...

First ending (Sweet Pea)

Nothing ending(s) (Camellia)

Fire ending (Primrose)

Sunshine ending (Sunflower) 

Destruction ending (Alstroemeria)

??? (Freesia)

True ending (Anemone)

but yep that's pretty much it. i like how flawed kanako is here, i think its more interesting than her being the perfect child that ceroba remembered her as. i wish i could've properly finished it but im FAR too deep in the kriselle trenches at the moment sigh. im glad you found it interesting though! oh and uhhh the snowgrave stuff too

[voitier]

HANS - In your Hands

넷 : For one who's lost, another is found

In a world where every single step is recorded and analysed by cameras, F1 racer Jeon Jungkook could care less about his reputation, having decided that with the amount of money he has he could buy the silence of everybody, if he wished.

Behind him, there's a girl losing her mind trying to get him to behave, knowing that her job is at risk if she doesn't cover up his mess-ups in time.

What happens when one of the most influential and world recognised racers falls head over heels for his PR manager, who absolutely despises his "I've got it all" attitude and wants nothing more than to keep doing her job in peace?

WARNING: a shit ton of smut but I doubt you will like this one. anyway, grinding, making out, semi-public spaces, self reflection regarding the use of sex and women as coping mechanism.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: my loves. hi. i'm in a terrible fucking mood, so i was like "i will post chapter 4 and gain serotonin from interactions and praise", cause that's who i am, a slut for approval. anyway, regarding this chapter: it isn't pretty, or, at least, it's not meant to be. it is filled with filth, but i ask you to see between the lines, to overanalyse things that seem completely normal, interactions, words, thoughts. they're spiraling, both of them, gradually getting weaker as we speak. so yes, this chapter is 90% smut, but it's also much more than that. enjoy.

3:30 a.m. 

An ungodly hour to wake up to, but the perfect one to commit sins that get blown away by the deep night’s breeze.

The whole team had to leave the hotel at 5, but you had woken up a couple hours earlier to shower and put away all your remaining belongings in your suitcases.  

Everything changed once you had heard the little screen outside your door beep multiple times, Taehyung appearing like he had done earlier that day.

“Hey,” his voice came as a low murmur, respecting the early hour and your need of silence when just woken up. He dragged his suitcases in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He squinted his eyes as the blinding lights flooded his eyes, quickly heading towards the light button to turn the ambience lights on instead. Lights dimmed, body still warm from your shower, you had to fight the urge to curl up on the bed and sleep even more.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, letting the steam from the bathroom curl and unfold all around you as you stood by the door, a fuzzy warm towel wrapped around you. Taehyung smiled softly at you, closing up the space that divided you two by wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You gasped, your whole body going tense before Taehyung guided you to the nearest wall, humming as his nose traced the curve of your neck, the shape of your collarbones, the dip of your shoulder. “We got interrupted earlier. I figured it would benefit us both taking advantage of this time when everyone’s sleeping and we’ve got a nice, private room to ourselves.”

Taehyung’s hands traveled to your hips, dragging up the fabric wrapped around you before letting it fall back to its place. “But say the word and I won’t push any further, I’ll just help you pack everything left to pack. Your choice, Vel.”

You wanted to cry.

Actually cry. 

Because he was offering something you knew you wanted and needed, something that you had been dragging for far too long for your own wellbeing. And if the little encounter in the pool wasn’t a sign of your resolutions crumbling to the ground, this one was definitely gonna be. But at the same time…

“Okay,” you whispered. Quick, hurried, almost imperceptible even to your own ears, your voice coming back to you as the one of someone else entirely. But to Taehyung, your “okay” had sounded loud and clear. 

His cock twitched in his sweatpants, and a whole celebration party was happening in his head. Outside, though, he was like you had always remembered him being: calm, composed, confident. A small smirk had taken place on his lips as the realisation that he was gonna have you back in his arms after years had dawned on him. 

His lips hovered over yours, brushing ever so slightly. “Are we still on the no-kissing rule?” he asked, his voice accidentally coming out more restrained than he had intended to show. 

“Fuck that rule,” you murmured, and in a second his lips were on yours desperate, raw, aching for something only you could give him. You tilted your head back, allowing him to deepen the kiss, his hands finding home at the sides of your face.

If you had known that Taehyung kisses like he’s desperate for air sooner, you would have given him the go already back in college. 

"Tae—" you moaned softly, throwing your head back to the wall with a dull thump.

Taehyung groaned, a desperate "oh fuck" leaving his mouth before he latched his lips on your neck, letting his hands explore your body as he best pleased. He pressed his knee between your legs, applying pressure until you gave him space to slip his leg in. 

Your breath hitched, hands grabbing his shoulders through the soft material of his sweatshirt to anchor yourself. Taehyung's knee rubbed back and forth slowly, drawing out moans and whimpers and cries out of your mouth, your body going completely lax under his touch. You felt yourself clench around nothing as he pressed his painfully hard cock to your thigh, soaking what was of the towel and pants that were touching your scorching hot skin. 

Taehyung's fingers clenched around the towel, letting it fall open with a single tug. "Shit, please," he moaned to no one in particular, hooking one hand under your leg and bringing it around his waist. His hips ground against yours, rolling in a painfully slow rhythm. 

Frustration built quickly inside you. You needed more, anything more. Your face scrunched in what was a mix of pain and pleasure, stuttered breaths and broken moans the only sounds echoing in the quiet of the night.

"Tae, Tae... fuck– get on the bed, now."

Nodding, the brunette didn't wait any longer to follow your instruction, dragging you with him. He laid on the bed, sprawled like it was his— but it didn't matter, not when your only thought was getting on top of him and finally get the friction you needed, not even when you noticed the clearly wet mess your needy body had left on his black sweats. 

You couldn't help but let out a loud cry as pleasure finally spiked in your body, soon muffled by Taehyung's fingers slipping in your mouth. "I fucking love your sounds Vel, but we can't risk anything now."

Drool seeped from his fingers as you sucked them, sometimes your mouth going completely lax as a particular pleasurable wave overcame you and left you shaking in need. 

"Vel," groaned Taehyung, his eyes pleading. "You're gonna make me cum if you keep going like this." Leaning with your hands on his toned chest, you let your hips grind deliberately free now, watching with heavy eyelids as Taehyung had to bite his lip in order to contain his sounds, making the plump flesh of his lips bleed. 

"Shit, fuck it," he moaned, and in a second his hands were on your hips, guiding them to rock rhythmically while he thrusted his hips up in sync with yours, his cock throbbing as it leaked more and more sticky precum that covered his thighs and abdomen.

One hand reached for the back of your head, pushing you flush against his body to attack your lips again, tongues dancing together in a kiss that was everything but romantic — messy, bruising, desperate, your mouths swallowing the sounds of the other as you both finally tipped over the edge, shaking and crying out in pure bliss.  

Whimpering, you pulled back from the kiss, leaning your forehead on Taehyung's who was still recovering from his own orgasm, his breath coming out in irregular puffs every now and then. 

His hands sneaked around your waist, hugging you close to his warm body. You basked into his warmth, trying to calm down the shivers running down your body. 

After a moment, when both of you seemed to be a little calmer, Taehyung asked "You alright, Vel?", his hands grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt and pulling it off him, then ever so gently helping you wear it. 

You nodded, feeling your body relax and melt onto the comfy bed and the warm sweatshirt that smelled of coffee, your eyes dropping closed as you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

"I'll pack the rest of your things, you can rest," were the last words you heard before you shut down completely, letting the comforting smell lull you to dreamland. 

4.47 a.m.

Taehyung’s hand laid protectively on your lower back, warmth radiating from his freshly showered body. He nudged you outside your room, his hand an everlasting presence even when he dragged all your suitcases out the door and locked it shut. 

A few doors down the hallway another door opened. There, Jeon Jungkook walked outside his hotel room with a couple of suitcases, the rest of them probably already in the lobby waiting for him. His eyes lit up as he spotted you, but they quickly flickered to your lower back, where Taehyung’s hand was still laying comfortably. It was only for a second, really, the movement of his eyes almost imperceptible, just long enough to let his brain register what he had seen, and then they flickered back up again. 

He stood there for a moment, locked in place as he watched your fingers wrap around Taehyung’s wrist, squeezing for a brief second to signal him to let go, all while trying to cover it up by wrapping your hand around the handle of one of your suitcases and dragging it towards the doors of the elevator that opened as soon as you had hit the call button.

“Wait– Y/N!”

Jungkook watched frozen in place as you blatantly ignored him, not even sparing him a glance as you got inside with Taehyung and let the doors close. Right in his face.

His stomach clenched in something he could describe only as a mixture of guilt and… anger. Yes, he had fucked up, he shouldn’t have had dismissed your words as something futile, but he was willing to talk it out. And what did you do? Ignore him. Even when you said that you would speak to him after your appointment with the physio you didn’t, and if he was left to feel like shit it was only your fault. 

Not his, never his.

7.28 a.m.

“Quiet, they’re looking for me.”

Jungkook knew that what he was doing wasn’t morally right: not only because having sex was his way of not thinking about things that bothered him – in this case, the blatant way you had been avoiding him for the last 24 hours – but also because he had no fucking clue of what the blonde’s name was. And to top it all, they were hidden inside a “STAFF ONLY” room of the airport, probably filled with cameras, too.

He didn’t care, not as much as he was sure he would once the horny frenzy left his brain, leaving him to rethink all the life choices that led him to this very moment. Right now, all he could focus on was the bruising grip he had on the girl’s hips, guiding her body to meet his thrusts halfway, grabbing a fistful of her flesh as a warning when she got too vocal. He didn’t want to get caught, understandably so. More importantly, he didn’t want to get caught by you. This had to be his dirty little secret, a self indulgent sin that existed only in the moment to just drown out the voices screaming inside his head. 

Jungkook looked at the girl once – hands against the door, her cheek flush against the painted surface, lean body begging for more. Her thick, long hair bounced back with every thrust, every now and then covering what was visible of her already half hidden face. 

Jungkook didn’t do face-to-face positions, especially not with casual hookups he randomly met. They were too intimate, too raw, too real. Definitely not something he would want with some random model or actress or anyone of that sort. 

But this? Having them splayed against a surface, face hidden away from him? This was optimal: no random eye contact, no intimacy, no real people connecting through their actions. Just his body and the girl’s body. Nothing else, nothing more. This was safe. 

The girl whimpered softly, eyes fluttering shut. Jungkook groaned as she squeezed him tight, clearly losing a battle against her own body that was tightly tensed in anticipation.

“Want me to touch you?” he rasped, his hand already traveling to her inner thigh. The girl shook her head no, moaning a weak “No need to, I can cum like this.”

Jungkook hummed, slipping his hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her body flush against the door. He hummed satisfied as the girl immediately complied, his hand leaving her body to land on the door, right beside hers, the new angle allowing him to push himself deeper and deeper, until each thrust had him buried to the hilt. 

His brows furrowed, lips shut tight in concentration as every muscle in his body locked up. Just a little more, a little more, a little—

Jungkook shuddered, a breathy moan escaping his lips as he came, head thrown back in relief. He stayed like that for a couple seconds, letting his body come back from the… high? Well, kinda. Normally he would feel differently: more relaxed, more blissful, more satisfied. 

But right now? None of those could describe the mediocrity of what he was feeling. Instead, he was left feeling a huge amount of relief. Sexual relief? Probably, but it almost felt like he was relieved that it had ended. 

For the first time, Jeon Jungkook truly felt like he had just emptied his body almost in a mechanical way, just like anyone would feel when emptying their bladder, for example: it was something almost robotic, totally indifferent to the human sphere of emotions, an action done just because it has to happen in order to function correctly. 

Fuck, maybe you were right. 

His throat closed up, forcing Jungkook to cough to try and lessen the knot that had formed. No, you couldn’t be right. There had to be another explanation. Right? 

Of course, of course there had to be one. Jungkook was awfully quiet as he pulled his pants up, fixing his appearance to appear as normal as possible. He gave the girl another look. There had to be something that subconsciously set him off wrong. There had to be.

Only… he couldn’t find what. Objectively speaking, she was hot, and her voice wasn’t annoying nor were her moans fake. She wasn’t too much work, and she seemed to be completely aware that all they had was a quickie, nothing more nothing less, that it probably wouldn’t happen again and that she couldn’t talk about it with anyone.

Truth to be told, she was the perfect hookup partner, probably the best he had had in months.

So, what was wrong exactly…

He sighed, a bitter taste filling his mouth, much like uneasiness had filled his whole system. 

Before he left, he muttered a polite “Thank you,” then crossed the threshold and never looked back again. 

© voitier 2025

series masterpost here

[spencerreidsprincess]

The set up| Spencer Reid x reader

summary: Spencer didn’t expect to meet someone like you at a bakery

warning: Emily being a perfect wingman, cute nervous Spencer, cute pure fluff!

spencer wasn’t the kind of guy to go out for sweet treats before work. he liked having a order and going out of his way to stand in a line for a donut wasn’t something he would typically do. but when Emily asked him to pick her up a donut at the local bakery before work, it was what he was doing.

so what was Spencer doing at 7:00 am in the morning? standing in line of the ‘The Sweet Spot!’. Emily raved about this place. it was ran by a single girl who was able to make donuts or any other kind of pastry early in the morning and it would be sold out by the end of the day.

he checked his watch. the line was going by pretty fast considering there was only one worker. he scanned the bakery. it was decorated with pink walls, pictures of donuts or any other baked good.

when we walked up to the front counter he was shocked. he didn’t expect to find a short, (your hair color), beautiful eyed girl with light freckles covering your face. you smiled waiting for Spencer to tell you what you needed.

“uh…hi” Spencer stuttered. cursing himself for looking like a complete idiot. “Uh…sorry. can I get two of the lemon filled donuts, and one birthday cake pops?” Spencer asked a she looked at the display case.

“sure you can!” you said with a smile as you went over and grabbed the treats. while you were bagging the items you stopped and thought. “Do you happen to know an Emily? She orders the same thing almost every morning” you said as you looked up at him. Spencer smiled.

“She was actually the one who sent me here. she talks about this place all the time” Spencer said with a smile. you couldn’t help but laugh with a small tint of pink that covered your cheeks.

“Of course she does. You must be Spencer” you said with a smile. for weeks Emily was trying to set you guys up and all Emily would do was talk about him. he was cuter than you expected him to be. she had short brown hair, a beautiful facial structure and pretty eyes. and you also knew he was a genius.

“How do you know?” Spencer asked as he furrowed his eyebrows as he pulled out his wallet. you blushed as you pushed the bag towards him and smiled.

“she talks about you. the genius?” you ask with a tiny laugh. Spencer laughed as he took out a twenty.

“Yep, that’s what she would say” Spencer said as he looked up at you with a smile. if only he really knew what was truly said about him.

“That’s gonna be 7.32$” you said with a smile as you read off the number that was coming from the cash register.

“Here you go, and keep the change” Spencer said as he handed you the twenty. hands touching slightly a little longer then normal.

“Thank you so much” you said with a smile, he gave you one last smile before he walked away. you were so going to have a talk with Emily after this.

looking for more? Here is the second part:

First Customer

[generalluxun]

Speaking of queen wasp they were two red flags in that scene when Marinette wanted to bond Chloe with Audrey like the first was Chloe asking Audrey why don't you love me.

The second wasn't something noticeable until I saw that someone posted it but before Marinette made them bond Chloe was actually looking at Marinette like she was asking for advice mind you this is a girl who on a normal day she wouldn't even care about Marinette at all in any way.

Okay, people talk about 'rock bottom' but Queen Wasp is in fact Chloé at rock bottom. It was a key moment and *no salt just truth* Marinette pooched it badly. It's believable she would. It's *very forgivable* she would. They just *never went back to it* which is the real problem.

Consider the situation at the end of Queen Wasp:

Chloé is in her room, alone. Her mother is leaving with Marinette. Chloé wasn't even going to see her mother off, plead her case, anything. She had given up.

Who knocks on her door? Marinette Dupain-Cheng of all people. Chloé isn't even mad, she just looks sad and maybe a little afraid even. She follows Marinette, well behind her, and timidly. *Chloé Bourgeois following Marinette Dupain Cheng*

This girl is lost.

As someone else pointed out, Chloé's bags are packed. Marinette is the one who decided this, clearly. Chloé is docile at the moment. Marinette is calling the shots. Marinette's goal at this point is Chloé's departure in her place. I don't think Marinette had bad intentions here. Chloé has wanted to be with her mother since forever.

Marinette makes her little speech about love and family and sidesteps for Chloé. This is where things do off the rails.

What does Chloé say? Take me with you? Can I go to New York? Let me show you I am exceptional too?

No.

'Why don't you love me, mom?'

Marinette did not sign up for this. She can't *comprehend* this. A child having to ask that, even thinking of asking that is alien to Marinette.

Then Audrey's reply 'Of ... Course I .... Love you ' and Audrwy has to *turn her head* to say the last words. She can't say them looking at Chloé. She even *chokes* while saying them in the English dub. Not teary choking, 'I'm going to throw up' choking.

To quote Marinette elsewhere: 'This is a disaster!'

It's not what Marinette expected, it's not what Marinette knows. This isn't some happy teary end of episode rekindling. Chloé is just standing there, poleaxed, rejected again.

Marinette improvises, only without a lucky charm. She gets them *both* mad at her, so they 'bond' over being mean. Chloé was at her most vulnerable and Marinette Dupain-Cheng showed her that her mother's attention *was* important and *how* to get it, by being awful.

If Marinette had done nothing at all, it is entirely plausible Chloé would have turned out differently post Queen Wasp(her devotion to her mother was broken at that point) If Marinette had even stopped when the first ploy had failed(just showing up and talking about love) things might have improved. It would have been one final nail in the coffin of Audrey-Chloé bonding.

It was trying to push it, to make the world conform to her own experiences, that made things turn out like they did. It's a character trait Marinette has. It's entirely plausible in a 14 yr old Only child of upper middle class parents.

The show just never went back to revisit it and have Marinette connect the dots. It was such a *great* setup that never paid off (and even if it were to pay off in the future, the timing element is completely gone. You don't get an 8yr arc in a kids show)

That was the canary in a coal mine for everything that followed in S4/5.

[noxiatoxia]

How To: Spot a Danganronpa (2) Beta Sprite

Hi! I'm unsure how many people are as interested in this as I am, but I wanted to write a little guide for people curious if a piece of merch or promotional material they come acrossーor some other in-game assetーis actually using a beta sprite.

For clarity, this guide focuses on SDR2 in particular. DR1 beta sprites undergo a much different process, as do V3's (from what I can gather). I focus primarily on SDR2 as it is the game whose characters' beta sprites are reused the most, and are also the most readily identifiable.

Simply put, there's actually a very easy way to tell, and that is: line weight.

Let's look at some examples, and in the best places to spot when looking for beta sprites.

1: Hands

Hands, as long as they're integral to the sprite, are a magnificent place to start. Below are two sprites of Komaeda: The final version from SDR2, and the beta mistakenly reused in DRS.

There's multiple differences between these two, but there's one really obvious one: Komaeda's hand.

The finished SDR2 version has much finer detail in the palm. The line weight is thin, while in the beta version, the line weight is thick with little pen pressure.

This can be seen for many characters. Take these two photos of Koizumi, one the final sprite and one the beta:

As you can see, the final version has much more detail to the hand with varying line weight. The beta version has 0 line weight differences, and little detail.

There are more differences between the two than just this, but this is the quickest way to tell.

Now, please be wary this isn't always true. For example: here is a beta mistakenly used for Komaeda's UTDP card, compared to the final SDR2 sprite:

These sprites are indeed different, but the hands are the same. So while this is a very handy (heh) trick, please do not use it as the end-all be-all...which leads into the second thing to look out for, and how we can easily identify this particular example.

2: Ears

While the hands might be the same, look at Komaeda's ear.

Not only is the line weight completely different, there are also clear detail differences. For example, there is almost no detail to the upper inner ear (above the strand of hair) in the beta sprite, while the final sprite does have detail.

Similar are these two sprites, first the final from SDR2 and an earlier beta used in DRS.

Both look very similar, but the most noticeable difference is Komaeda's ear.

Though small, you can clearly see line art differences in the top part of Komaeda's ear.

3: Hair

What if both hands and ears are out of the question? Well, a very big one is the details in the hair. Depending on the character and how early the sprite is, hair is either the easiest way to tell if it is a beta right off the bat, or virtually useless.

Nevertheless, it's as I laid out earlier: beta sprites lack line weight. So, if you see a sprite that lacks line weight in its hair, take note of it. Let me show an example.

Below is the final sprite of Nanami used in SDR2, and next to it is an official piece of merch that mistakenly used a beta sprite.

Do you already see the differences?

Where the lines are supposed to tapper off in thickness to create a sharp edge, the beta sprite lacks this, and instead the line simply ends bluntly.

This can be seen in an Owari sprite, too.

Although, what's interesting about this particular Owari beta is the lack of texture that all Danganronpa sprites usually have. Her beta sprite here is the only time I've seen this happen, though.

The conclusion: beta sprites lack normal line-weight variation, so try looking for spots that would normally require sharper lines such as the ears, hands, and hair.

Sometimes, however, there will be outlier cases. Maybe only the line art of the eyes changed, or they added a button to the character's shirt. But in most cases, using this trick will help you spot a beta sprite.

But, please try looking! If you ever see a sprite on a piece of merch, promotional material, or any other official source, try looking for these little differences. They still happen to this day!

Just today, as of posting this, dangan_official released this tweet:

...With a beta Monomi hiding in plain sight:

Shading differences are actually pretty rare in most sprites, even betas -> finals. But this Monomi sprite has several differences to the final SDR2 sprite in its shading, where many spots were erased for the final sprite.

This is the same beta Monomi sprite that was misused for UTDP, most likely.

I hope you all find this interesting/informative. And please let me know if you ever come across one yourself!

[d-lanx]

See I think after the bad blood match, Drew really should have gone off the deep end. Every time Punk screwed over Drew or Drew lost against Punk, he got more and more insane.

And then he came back and just went after the bloodline, gave up on that halfway through, did a bit with priest and has kinda just been flitting around a bit. It was hella anticlimatic. I was expecting a much bigger crash out considering the apocolyptic meltdowns he had during the feud. He'd scream at the crowd and one time he quit the wwe, it was great.

Tbh I think they should have put him in a feud with someone like Sheamus. When those two had a promo right after Sheamus came back (the burger after burger promo), Sheamus was trying to get through to him like an intervention. They were taking it really seriously with how insane Drew was being, like it was actually something disturbing and concerning. I reckon they should have committed to that. Sheamus is distrubed by the monster his friend has become and then do something there. With Drew completely going off the deep end, hurting his best friend and him grappling with that in his mind. On one hand he's so self righteous he attacks anyone who disagrees with him or tries to stop him, and then on the other hand it's his bff, and he has to reconcile that and decide just how far he's willing to go to prove a point. I feel like getting him to a place in his character where he's starting to doubt himself would work as a good way to lead into another feud, because it would force his character to be like "what am i doing? where am I going next?" which then forces the writers to go "what are we doing? where is he going next?" and they can reorient themselves and figure out where to take it next. Rather than just stick him in a feud with whoever's available who has history. Just because they have history, doesn't necessarily mean they're the most appropriate person to go after.

They did such a good job in the immediate aftermath of bad blood selling the effects of the match, with Punk collapsing on the ramp and showing up on raw covered in bandages and doubting his career, and then only coming back for war games because his bff paul heyman had begged him to, therefore starting the ball rolling for him to get back to normal schedule in wwe and have matches and feuds again. So he got a chance for his character to be lead back in in a way that made sense. But they never did that for Drew. He just showed up on tv outta the blue and started attacking the bloodline. And really, his character needed that "leading in" more. Because he lost. Punk got his happy ending and his character would be able to move on much easier. But they'd established Drew doesn't take losses well as it is, and then he lost the whole feud and Punk moved on and he was left on his own. His character was clearly a little fucked in the head, and that loss should have destroyed him. But it didn't for some reason. So the writers got unsure of what to do and Drew gets left in limbo.

I just feel like it would have made more sense to do a feud where instead of asking "who does he have history with? who is he mad at?" they should have said "what's going on with his character?" Answer: he's gone mental. Show it! He said his wife thinks he's become a monster. Ok so why does his bff Sheamus seem unbothered by this transformation when just months ago he was holding a whole ass intervention on raw? There was just no follow up for Drew after bad blood.

Ok now I'm just fantasy booking, but what if Drew came back, launched random attacks on every single person he hated. Just on sight, multiple people per episode, no focus on any one person, maybe even switching between brands. The roster get mad about it and are like "do something or the whole roster is getting together to kill him" so nick aldis & adam pearce are on the verge of a meltdown cos they're shows are being ruined. They go to Sheamus and are like

"hey, he's your bff, and even when you had that spat when you came back, he still supported you during your match, so he clearly likes you. so you go talk to him"

So sheamus is like "ok yeah" (cos it's not like he has anything better to do. they mostly keep him on the midcard when he is on tv) and he goes to drew and is like "oi, you're not the person i was became friends with. you need to get your shit together. punk's gone and he ain't gonna fuck you and you can't keep taking out your anger about it on everyone else" and then drew is like "watch me" and tries to kill sheamus and then is like "what have i done!?" and then BAM. you got a feud. Sheamus is like "I'm gonna make you remember who you are even if I have to knock through your thick skull to do it". Obviously that's a shitty write up, but you know what I mean??????????? Everyone just got really cool with insane drew real quick considering the last punkintyre promo was literally held in a cage with security for safety. And even that security had been following them both individually around the arena all night so they wouldn't start shit. And we're just meant to believe they were fine after that??????????? They spent so long hyping up their insantiy, especially Drew's, and then did nothing with it.

the way wwe did nothing with drew and la knight after the rumble debacle and the rumors going around that there was real heat between them backstage, to say nothing of the fact that they had already feuded ten years ago in tna, which wwe can mention by name since they’re working together. i can just hear commentary being like “this is a rivalry that goes back a decade, that transcends companies, these two Genuinely Hate Each Other”. not to mention the fact that they are THE two best talkers on the roster. that could have been the summerslam match we got this year, but instead we get a celebrity tag match for drew and knight isn’t even on the card. i hate this fucking company

[maskerat]

"Waltz of Discolor"

art I've made for this fanfic of mine.

[thedapperraven]

“Ain’t it warming you, the world gone up in flames?”

Hozier, NFWMB

“I would burn the world to bring some heat to you”

Hozier, Hymn to Virgil

[formulafanfics13]

oh my god… vampire charles please. i have a whole agenda about vampire charles, i need a smut about it 🙏🏽 i trust you and you only

Eternal thirst - CL16 🔥

Masterlist

summary: You knew there was something otherworldly about Charles Leclerc the moment he looked at you. The charm, the stillness, the eyes that burned too hot. You didn’t expect to end up in his bed. You didn’t expect to beg for him. And you definitely didn’t expect the teeth.

warnings: (18+), vampire!Charles, human!reader, explicit smut, biting kink, blood drinking, fingering, oral (f receiving), rough sex, supernatural stamina, mild bloodplay, orgasm control, choking (light), possessiveness, power imbalance, dirty talk in French and English, hypnotic manipulation (mild), fang kink, marking, reader gets a little obsessed, Charles is already obsessed, strong predator/prey undertones, overstimulation, neck fixation

You should’ve known the second he touched you. His hand, warm but somehow cold beneath the surface. His grip, just a little too strong for someone so lean. The way he looked at you like he already knew the taste of your skin.

Charles Leclerc was not normal. He was beautiful. Ageless. Too calm. Too confident. And now you were in his bed.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, voice thick with restraint, curls falling into his eyes.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”

His mouth twitched. Just a little. “I can hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I want to hurt you.”

Your thighs clenched. “Then do it.”

That���s all it took. The control snapped. He had you on your back in seconds, hands dragging your shirt up and over your head, tongue licking a slow, wet stripe between your breasts.

“You smell like sin,” he whispered. “Like something I’ve waited centuries for.”

You moaned as his hand slipped between your thighs, finding you soaked. “Look at you,” he breathed. “Already wet for me. You don’t even know what I am.”

“I don’t care.”

He grinned. Sharp. Beautiful. Dangerous. “You will.”

He kissed you. Hard. Then bit your lip. Not enough to break skin. Not yet. But the tease was there. His fingers slid into you, one, then two, curling just right. You cried out.

“That’s it, mon ange. Let me hear you.” He pumped slow. Deliberate. Watching your face with eyes that gleamed red for just a second too long.

You didn’t flinch. You pulled him down and kissed him again. When he pulled his fingers free and licked them clean, you thought you might come from that alone.

Then he went lower. And everything blurred.

His mouth on your clit was sinful. Precise. He moaned into you like your taste had healed something in him. Tongue flattening and curling, hands pinning your hips down like you’d dare escape. You came once. Then again. Then screamed when he bit your inner thigh, just enough to graze skin.

“I can smell your blood,” he growled. “It’s perfect. Sweet. Mine.”

You whimpered. “Please. Please, just bite me.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I do.”

He hovered over you, cock hard against your thigh, his voice low and starving. “You’re going to feel everything.”

“Then do it, Charles.”

He bit. Your neck. Deep. Real. The pain was instant, white-hot, then pleasure. Searing, all-consuming, overwhelming. Your body arched. And he fucked into you like he was claiming every cell.

Hard. Deep. Endless.

You were dizzy from the blood loss, from the stretch, from the heat in his eyes as he moaned against your throat. “I’ve wanted this,” he panted. “I’ve dreamed of this.”

You couldn’t speak. Could only hold him tighter as he slammed into you again and again, groaning in French, his hand around your throat now, thumb stroking gently as he owned you completely.

“Tu es à moi,” he whispered. “Only mine. Forever.”

You shattered. He didn’t stop. Not until he’d filled you. Not until you were shaking, blood trickling from your neck, thighs trembling.

He kissed the bite. Then kissed your lips. “You’re not going anywhere now,” he murmured. “You understand that?”

You nodded, dazed. And smiled. “Good.”

Because neither was he.

[ryuutales]

"Next time, don't follow my speed, okay? Just be yourself. I want to adjust myself to your rhythm too."

[mageknife]

hey does anyone else ever think about archon!dorian and lose their minds

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the ask prompt game...

Spirk #17 to distract

"Report," Kirk ordered. The word buzzed low against Spock's ear, quiet and audibly tense.

"Less than two minutes until they reach our location, Captain," Spock replied promptly. "Commander Scott will need at least another eight before the transporter is operable again." His voice was equally hush, despite their perceived solitude. He had seen carelessness take far too many lives during his time in Starfleet; he would not allow it to take his captain as well - and, illogically, Spock could not quite dispense of the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of his neck.

"We'll need to bluff it," Kirk decided, looking grim.

His gaze was strangely intense against Spock, full of rioting emotion, and, almost, Spock wished to look away. He did not. Instead, he nodded, holding steady eye contact.

The odds, Spock knew, that Kirk's gambit - whatever it may be - would succeed were... poor. The guards had, after all, seen their faces. But Kirk would keep fighting right until the bitter end, and Spock, of course, would be right beside him.

Solemn, he vowed, "I shall follow your lead," though he knew Kirk would not have doubted it. Still, the unnecessary words were well worth the way the tension around Kirk's eyes melted away, the somber set of his mouth slipping instead into a golden-edged smile.

Almost wonderingly, a soft chuckle fell from those lips, incongruous in their surroundings and entirely treasured. "What would I do without you?" Kirk asked, reaching up to exert gentle pressure on Spock's bicep.

I pray you never need find out, Spock made to say, getting only so far as drawing in breath before the sound of distant footsteps drew them both from their quiet moment, snuffing the words before they could take shape. "Eighteen seconds," he said instead, after rapidly adjusting his calculations. Faster than anticipated.

Kirk nodded, some unreadable emotion hiding in the soft crease between his brows.

"Forgive me, Mr. Spock," Kirk said softly, and Spock did not have time to question what he meant before Kirk was pulling him down by his shirt, dragging their lips together with great urgency.

Quite suddenly, Spock found that his mind was entirely blank. Strange heat flickered through his whole form, and his universe narrowed to only Kirk, all soft and human-warm, who was pressed flush to his chest and kissing him.

One, then two seconds stuttered by in which Spock thought no thoughts at all, struck utterly motionless in the face of such unexpected attentions. He only felt, swept away by the sensation of pliant lips against his own and warm fingers stroking through his hair, gently mussing.

The very first thought to break to the surface was simply, Jim. A wave of emotion flooded in with it, astonishment and affection sweeping over him in such quantities that he felt nearly lightheaded.

The second was, We will be caught, and Spock jolted as something near to panic rose up inside his gullet, urging him to take Jim into his arms and run.

The third, however, was not his own; it was pressed into his katra from the outside by Jim's careful fingers, his clever mind slipping easily past Spock's shields. Play along, he said, projecting deliberate calm through their connection. Still, Jim was unpracticed in telepathic arts, and beneath that false serenity Spock could feel a tangle of guilt and determination, bitter and writhing.

The truth came to Spock in one fell swoop.

Jim's gambit... was this.

His lips and his hands, which pressed themselves so tenderly to Spock's skin, were not for him.

It was not love which had drawn his captain into his arms, but mere utility. Jim had realized what Spock had not: though they could not hide themselves, they could, perhaps, distract from themselves.

Two men attempting to look inconspicuous would only draw suspicion. Two men locked in a romantic embrace, however, may be overlooked - or even deliberately ignored. Few were comfortable with looking closely at the private passions of strangers, and fewer still would see reason to. Those searching for them, Spock hoped, would not. There would be no logic in halting an escape attempt solely for a kiss, after all.

Therefore, in order to escape unnoticed, they must be convincing.

They must seem, to any observers, to be completely and entirely immersed in one another, with no care for anything going on in their surroundings, and no fear of discovery.

Two lives, purchased with a kiss.

It was entirely logical, then, for Spock to part his lips, inviting Jim's tongue to dip inside of the wet cave of his mouth and meeting it with his own. If a groan rumbled deep within his chest, it could surely only help their cause; there was no need to swallow it down.

This disguise would, Spock observed as Jim's tongue flicked gently at his mouth, be far easier to maintain than it had any right to be.

It was a terribly simple matter for a man in love to behave as though he were a man in love.

The difficult part, then, would be remembering that it was a ruse. Already, heat bubbled deep within Spock, aching want suffusing his every neuron. Every faint brush of flesh sent golden tendrils of telepathic energy sparking across his skin, and it was all Spock could manage to hold himself back from pressing hungry fingers to Jim's meldpoints and sinking into that wonderfully enticing mind.

Instead, Spock slipped a hand beneath the hem of Jim's shirt, rucking up the cloth until he was tracing patterns across a smooth expanse of golden skin. He flexed his hand, allowing his nails to scratch carefully along Jim's spine, and did not permit himself to consider reaching upwards, to Jim's face - or worse: downwards, beyond the waistband of his pants.

He wondered if Jim would have chosen this, had he known how very much Spock wanted.

Perhaps it was selfish of Spock to allow it.

Still, he could not force himself away - not when Jim's life was at stake. The kiss was his lifeline, and so the kiss must remain.

The touch of their minds, however, did nothing to aid Jim. It was solely for Spock's benefit, taken from Jim without his knowledge or intent.

That, Spock could end.

If Jim was to unknowingly place himself into the hands of someone who wanted more than he would wish to give, then Spock would take it upon himself to be his protector - even if the one he must protect against was himself.

And so, Spock opened himself to every offered touch, and girded his mind against every stray thought, until not a single wisp of golden energy could find its way past his defenses.

When Jim's thigh nudged its way between Spock's legs, Spock spread his stance wider, allowing him to press closer, and did not let himself feel. His hands grasped and squeezed at the soft flesh beneath them, drawing quiet gasps from a pink-flushed throat, and no pleasant hum buzzed against his fingertips, carrying with it the flavor of human emotion. Jim nipped at his lips and pet at his hair, and Spock pressed every scrap of yearning deep down within himself to where they couldn't emerge.

Eyes closed and spirit aching, Spock kissed him.

_____________

from this ask game

[nixotinix]

Year one scarecrow pls and thank you for the requests. ♡♡♡

THE mistress of fear in my inbox? yowza WOWZA! okay, nix, just play it cool, just draw the art,,,,

thank you for the request aah! they are still indeed open for any and all DC characters :)

[vampiric-fangirl]

^ me when i have religious trauma and self-worth issues that revolve around believing i am nothing more than a weapon to be used so i attach myself codependent style to the first person who shows me kindness/gives me attention/makes me feel like i'm worth something and devote myself to becoming perfect for them and supporting them and serving them and making them happy in every way i can for the rest of my existence (if they die, i will feel like i have not only lost everything but also myself, entirely). because that's the only purpose i can ever imagine myself having. because i have religious trauma and self-worth issues.

for better or for worse.