#i cannot tell you the amount of pain my legs were in

[pinkblondie]

I heard some of you freaks like bruises🩹

⁽ᶠᵃⁱʳ ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵖᵒˡᵉ ᵈᵃⁿᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵒˡᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶠⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵘᵖ⁾

Paypal ♡ Wishtender ♡

[shotmrmiller]

pornstar au

f!reader x ghost x price :)

2.7k words

tw: teacher-student scenario again, just for the sake of the porn. also, DP. first time writing it, so be NICE!

big thanks to @waves-against-a-cliff for reading what i won't

You sat on Professor Riley's lap after class, his rigid length smearing precum in between your soft, bare thighs as he fucked them. His large hands curled around your waist, long fingers creating tiny dents where he dug them into the supple flesh.

His breath warmed the delicate skin of your throat, as pants escaped his lips. You deliberately pressed your legs closer together— hoping that it provided enough amount of friction for him to finish.

You need this extra credit, after all.

Ghost inhaled sharply when you did, the grip he had on you almost painful.

"Fuckin' hell." His rich groan resonated in your chest. The gusset of your knickers was damp with arousal, both yours and his. The languid drag of his cock against your clothed pussy was so tantalizing, your core ached to be filled.

You were about to urge him to forget intercrural sex— to undress and fuck you already when a sharp knock on the door cuts through the fog in your head; a sudden rush of clarity pouring over you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

Shit.

Your back straightens at the interruption and quickly move to get off of Ghost's lap when he wraps an arm around your middle, keeping you firmly in place. A strangled noise claws up your throat. He cannot be serious.

"Come in," he calls out.

"No. No no no, you can't— you'll be fired, I'll be expelled, Professor Riley, please—" your voice warbles in your panic. His hold on you is as strong as steel, leaving no room for escape or resistance. You're helpless as the doors creep open and Professor Price steps in.

Of course, it's the most pretentious asshole teacher in existence.

"Hey, Riley, have you gotten the ema—" he trails off. His striking blue eyes flick down to your legs. Or more precisely, to what's still in between them fully erect.

"I was unaware you were busy with a...student." The sound of his footsteps draws closer. "Is this what you call detention?" Price leans on the desk with his hip, eyes never straying from you.

Ghost stifles a laugh. "Ask a better question, Price."

Heat licks up your jaw and cheeks when he resumes his thrusting as if there isn't another whole grown man in the room— one who can potentially ruin both his career and your collegiate one.

"Like what, Riley? Want me to ask if I can get a taste?" You look at Price and notice that his eyes are dark, limpid blue rings around the edges— knuckles stained white with how tightly he's clenching his hands. "You've never been a sharing type."

"Well, this sweet toy of mine loves being shared, doesn't she?" Swiftly, Ghost lifts you, his manhood now nestled against the curve of your back. His clever fingers move to your covered center, and draw featherlight circles on your hood, right above your clit. A whimper falls from your lips at the feeling.

"Answer him, pet. Tell Price ya don't mind gettin' this pretty pussy licked by him." He presses down on your bundle of nerves firmly with the pad of his thumb when you take a second too long to answer.

"I, I don't," you hiss when he rubs, "d-don't mind." Ghost gives your cunt a gentle tap.

"Don't mind what?" You swallow the lump lodged in your throat.

"I don't mind getting my pussy licked by Professor Price." His teeth tenderly graze the shell of your ear, followed by a small nip.

"Good girl," he mutters into your hair. Then directs his attention to Price, who's biting his bottom lip— the look he's giving you making your head swim. "She answered, so get down here or get out," he commands.

Ghost clasps his hands under your thighs and lifts until your feet rest flat above his knees. He hooks a finger into the sodden fabric of your knickers and drags it to the side, baring your glistening slit to the cold air of the room, erupting your heated skin in goosebumps. "On your knees, old man, unless they're too creaky to handle this."

Price's lip curls with unveiled amusement. "I was simply admirin' the view, Riley. Don't get your pants in a twist." He lowers himself to the floor smoothly until he's kneeled within inches of your exposed sex.

His prickly beard tickles the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and his mouth is warm and wet as his tongue slides between your folds.

Another former industry giant devouring your passion with the hunger of a starved man at a lavish feast. Each stroke of his tongue spreads the warmth in your stomach, a pressure slowly rising, building—

"Sit her on you," Price mouths against your cunt.

When you find yourself wedged between two burly men, there's not much you can do except surrender to their wishes. That means being lowered onto Ghost— instinctively closing your eyes as you savor the stretch and biting the inside of your gummy cheek at the mildly uncomfortable burn.

Gravity does most of the work as you sink into him in one gentle stroke.

And without reprieve, Price dives right back in. The dull ache from where Ghost's tip presses into the plug of your womb, to the pleasure coming from the attention given to your swollen bundle of nerves.

An intoxicating mix of bliss with pain furling at the edges.

It's so good, teetering on the edge of too much, but when Price sucks lightly on your clit, your body seizes. You scrabble to grab his dark brown hair, blunt nails biting into his scalp as your shatter around Ghost's cock and Price's mouth.

Ecstasy pulses through you like the steady beat of your heart, white-hot euphoria coursing through your veins. There's a ringing in your ears, shrill and deafening, and your breathing comes in ragged pants as you come down from your high.

Your face glistens with sweat as droplets trickle down your temples, hair plastered to your forehead.

Jesus.

Price lapped at the arousal that dripped down Ghost's length, softly groaning at the taste before giving you a wolfish grin behind his coarse facial hair that was damp with your desire.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You relax the tight hold you have on his hair as he tenderly kisses where you and Ghost are joined.

Ghost nudges your ear with his nose, and his deep voice rolls over you like a wave. "Greedy little cunt jus' about cut off my circulation, pet." He shifts under you, sliding even deeper than before, a hiss escaping from behind your teeth.

"I think Price is feelin' a little left out, don't you?" With a shaky nod and a quiet mhm, you feel his lips press against the side of your neck.

"Think you can take us both?" It feels more like a warning of what's to come than a genuine question. The idea of being stuffed by both of them sends a thrill up your back.

Price sits back on his haunches, palming himself from outside his trousers. "Think so, sweetheart?" He rises to his feet and promptly sweeps away everything from the wooden desk, scattering them across the floor. Taking a seat on the desk, he positions himself comfortably, his legs slightly bent and his feet firmly touching the ground. How unfair.

With a hand, Price beckons you to him.

Your legs tremble almost comically after having them in such an unnatural position for so long; tingling when you finally stretch them out in front of you. Ghost's hands at your waist help you stand, wincing when he pulls out of you unceremoniously.

Under his breath, he apologizes and gently nudges you towards Price by pressing his hand on your shoulder blades. "Go on, it's rude to keep him waiting." You're then guided forward as warm hands wrap around your biceps, leading you to stand in front of Price.

You drag your eyes from his down to his groin, where his erection is confined behind the strained zipper. Suddenly, Ghost's toned arms surround you, his hands eagerly reaching for the button on the front. "Lemme help ya out, love."

In seconds, Price's heavy manhood bobs as it springs out, ruddy tip hitting just below his navel. Simon firmly grabs your hand and swiftly turns it, exposing your palm. Without warning, he shamelessly spits on it before wrapping it around Price.

A guttural noise escapes him when you squeeze the thick of it tightly. He bucks his hips in a deliberate rhythm— taking hold of your wrist, ensuring your hand remains in position as he continues to thrust upwards until his cock is slick with his precum.

You can't help but rub your thighs together in hopes of getting some of the friction you're desperate for.

"Not gonna come already, are ya Price? We haven't even gotten started." Ghost ignores his scoff, rapping his knuckles on the desk. "Knickers off and climb up, pet."

You hastily tear off your smallclothes, shucking them to the side with your foot before hopping up on the desk, one leg at a time. Price steadies you with his hands on your waist. As you straddle him, your muscles ignite with a satisfying burn as they adjust the expanse of his thighs.

His voice is soft, gentle even, when he whispers into your ear. "Good?" You gasp sharply when Ghost spanks your arsecheeks before nodding at Price. "Jus' like we practiced, yeah?"

Yeah, just like you practiced. The plug you had to wear throughout the week whenever they both weren't tearing you in half should be more than enough prep. You hope.

Ghost taps the side of your thigh. "Cockwarm him while I get this perfect arse ready."

The stretch is intense as you lower yourself on Price— his cock thicker than Ghost's just not as long— it pushes the air out of your lungs. He bites his lip til it reddens, his eyes fixed onto where he disappears inside of you, fingers digging into the meat of your waist.

Your eyes flutter closed when he finally bottoms out, his girth splitting your swollen walls apart mercilessly.

God, he feels so good.

And then the sting of one thick, lubed finger pressing into your tight ring of muscle smothers some of that pleasure.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." Price tips your chin up with his hand, your eyes meeting his. "Good. Breathe for me, sweetheart." He leans forward to place open-mouthed prickly kisses on your neck. "Breathe, love. You've already taken us before. You did beautifully then, and you'll do beautifully now."

He distracts you from the discomfort by suckling on your skin, leaving red little love bites behind. Then, a second finger, so much bigger than your own. Price hisses sympathetically when you do— a tiny whimper coming from the back of your throat.

This time it's Ghost that breathes into your ear. "Doin' so good f'me."

Then he works a third finger in, and your back arches at the jolt of pain that licks up your spine.

Words of praise fall upon your ears, syrupy and saccharine, dulling the ache. He scissors and stretches gingerly, as he's always done. Ghost takes his time, curling his fingers inside— a slow and steady in and out that eventually has you clamping around Price.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you do. "So bloody tight."

"Alrigh' Price." Ghost takes you by the hips and cants them forward slightly, a cry falling from your lips at the change in angle. "Hold her open f'me."

He does just that; rough, worn hands spreading you open almost embarrassingly. There's a hot and heavy weight tapping your arse once, thrice— and then there's a blunt pressure pushing into your other much smaller hole. Your spine bows at the thick invasion, it burns, it throbs, but smart fingers find your neglected pearl and start to circle it.

The pain is merely physical, it can be overcome. Focus on the touch on your clit, focus on the hands that hold you, the heat that radiates from both of them. The harsh breathing of the man behind you as he fights to keep himself from fucking himself into you unfettered. Strained noises spilled from Price's parted lips as he felt your channel constrict, your sex beginning to get slick with your desire.

Ghost hilts, leaning forward until his barrel chest hits your back, a strangled groan coming from him. You felt unbearably full, about to tear at the bloody seams. Every single nerve from your navel down to the tips of your toes was on fire. You felt a throbbing sensation radiating from the back of your skull.

It was scalding hot, searing. The thin membrane that separated them felt stretched beyond its limit.

"Y'okay?" You can't even tell who asked you that past the rushing of blood that's in your ears. Your head feels too heavy on your shoulders, letting it lull forward until your forehead rests on Price's collarbone.

Ghost's chest vibrates as he speaks, the low rumble sinking into your skin, warming you from the inside. "Breathe for us, love. Deep in, slow out."

Right.

You remember what Price had said the very first time they fucked you. 'Breathing helps to process any pain and supports the nervous system.'

As you inhale deeply, your lungs expand to the point where you can feel a twinge of discomfort. But as you exhale, the tension in your body melts, your muscles gradually slackening.

Ghost undulates his hips once languidly, and while the ache flared back to life, below that was the pleasure you've become well acquainted with, desperately clawing its way to the surface.

A moan slips out of you unbidden.

"Perfect. So fuckin' perfect." Price's praise makes you dig your fingers into his broad shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

Then you're lifted by two sets of hands— one on your hips, the other on the underside of your thighs and brought back down. Fuck.

"Tha's it, love. Takin' us both so well," Ghost murmurs. When you begin to mewl, a clear sign of pleasure, Price plants his feet on the floor, and snaps his hips up. Black spots dot your vision, a euphoria shooting through your veins.

God, you hope your hips hold out.

They begin to move in tandem, one pushing in completely, while the other pulls out until just an inch stays inside.

It's sublime, obscene squelching coming from both your front and back. Once your body gives in to their assault, everything starts to blur at the edges, from your sight to your thoughts. You melt in their hands, softening under their touch as they take their pleasure from you.

They begin to fuck you in earnest, breath punched out of you with every thrust, and when Ghost takes control by grabbing a fistful of your hair, it sends waves of something through your stomach. The loud whine that comes from you is filthy.

"Always meltin' into a puddle over a firm hand, pet. Isn't tha' right?" He asks you as if you could even dream of answering. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth, and throat like sandpaper.

"Ready to make Price come? Choke his cock with tha' vice-like cunt, love. Wrench it outta him, take every drop of his cum, and then take mine."

Who are you to disobey such an edict?

The snarl Price lets out is animalistic when you squeeze him snugly, his thrusts turn jarring as he swells and stills— twitching inside of you, warmth pooling in your belly.

Only to realize that Ghost finished simultaneously.

There's a joke in there somewhere, about a couple finishing together, but you've been thoroughly fucked stupid.

Cut.

Simon takes you home— his home, and soaks you in a warm, bubble bath that smells like something he shouldn't have.

"I bough' it for you," he hums.

His callused palms knead into your sore calf muscles, hand making its way down to press into the arch of your foot.

"Don't go makin' those noises, love."

Eventually, you address the elephant in the room, and his answer makes your pulse race. "Gotta create a soft safe place f'you to land after somethin' tha' intense. Ya need to wind down, catch your breath."

He says it so casually as if it was common sense.

"Here. Drink your water." The bottle in your hands is room temperature, just how you like it.

[bunnivez]

Modern! Zoya…

Her first job was as a tattoo artist. Most of her costumers were women, they would specifically ask for her to do their tattoos; both because of her amazing work and the other… to get a close look at her. Whats better? Zoya is aware of the many women she is pulling (๑>؂•̀๑)

Imagine you two meet randomly bumping against each other and turns out you work at the shop right next to the one she works at!

Or you got recomendad by your friend to go to a certain shop to get your tattoo done, telling you to specifically ask for a woman named Zoya since her work is more professional and she is more trusted to give you great results.

She used to live in an apartment until she got a husky… I mean she it wasn’t like she couldn’t afford an average house but damn, she now has to pay more…

Has a love-hate relationship with her dog TRUST. Often complains of their sudden howling and the amount of hair they shed.

“It’s 1:30AM why the fuck are you howling like that!? You sound like you’re dying!” “Oh my f… You know i’m tempted in leaving you bald so I don’t have to deal with having your hair on the couch.”

At the same time however, they are also her best buddy and friend. There are times where she even lets them sleep with her on bed… For at least an hour before Zoya falls asleep and accidentally pushes s them off the bed in the middle of the night.

Yes she is a messy sleeper, god knows how the heck she ends up with on leg on the headboard and the other hanging on the bed. She snores like a dad…

Like even her huskey got scared for a second and kept barking until she woke up.

Listen, when going out she has this whole badass outfit, rings on her fingers, chains, unbuttoned blouse, a whole ass fit that screams “DADDY”

And then there are times where she just pulls up to the grocery store with an “Idgaf” outfit… Yet somehow she still looks hot. Jorts, a black baggy shirt, socks with the damn sandals or crocs combo (ಠ_ಠ)

Has a tongue piercing and you cannot tell me otherwise. If not, it is definitely her nipples.

Dark or alcohol filled chocolates girly. She isn’t a fan of overly sweet stuff.

Once choked on boba balls.

Honestly she can be romantic at times. She takes you to dates often— if not she plans something you two can do at home. Like cook, watch movies, play games or something.

Motorcycle rides with her are very common, more so with the fact that she doesn’t really own a car… Which she did confess that she may or may not be the best at driving.

Who knows how the heck she managed to stay alive with the many incidents she’s had while driving.. I guess she’s immortal.

Has an electric guitar, she posts videos on TikTok playing it and they get pretty high views! Like 406.1k views or something.

Her reposts mainly contain of two things; brain rots, lesbian.

Takes the most silly pictures of you and posts them on her story.

Source ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

HAHAHSGSBSGAVAWHABE, IMAGINE HER LAYING DOWN WHILE YOU SIT ON TOP OF HER TO DO HER MAKEUP.

Holds you like a stuffed animal when sleeping. It’s actually so cute but it’s kinda hard to break free from her hold.

YOU GUYS PLAY ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS, AND WHOEVER LOSES IS IN CHARGE OF COOKING.

Her cooking is actually pretty damn good! I feel like she is especially a specialist when it comes to cooking meat.

If you are too shy to order your food whenever you two are out, or pay, DO NOT WORRY, SHE LITERALLY IS YOUR SAVIOR, NO KIDDING. This woman gives no fucks at all, too shy to order? She’ll do it, hot your order wrong? She’ll go up and tell them.

Have I mentioned she gets up at 5AM just to do pushups?…

The type to randomly smack or grab your ass, she doesn’t care about the size.

I don’t recommend watching romance movies with her… she will cringe at any kissing scenes acting like she wouldn’t or doesn’t do that with you 24/7.

Not the best at dancing… Girl is STIFF.

I have the feeling she is the type to not admit that she is in pain during her period. She will act all tough and all until she can’t anymore.

(We need more comforting the ptn women on their period instead of the other way around, they also need comfort 😔)

Oh yeah did I also mention she was close to breaking your phone once? It all happened when you were scrolling through TikTok and saw a thirst trap (*cough* Rhea Ripley *cough*) and when I tell you grabbed your phone and threw it… IT HAPPENED.

Says she hates kids but has a soft spot for them actually. They remind her of Horo when she was wayyy younger.

Randomly sends you weird TikToks…. Like it’s so random and she says nothing about it.

She isn’t a fan of dresses, but she once tried it for you and it was a sight. It hugged her curves right and she kept flexing her muscles. If you take any pictures she seriously will kill you. (Especially if you send them to her friends).

If you are out she WILL text and call you every 36 minutes if she can’t come with you. And if she is too busy to pick you up she will face time you on your way home.

Has like so many posters of her favorite bands, korn, kiss, Deftones, ect.

Randomly gives you kisses when you least expect it. They are so random, you could be distracted and she will kiss your cheek, or your forehead, or the top of your head.

If she sees anyone eyeing you while in public she will pull you close and give the person a nasty look.

[generalhumancloudalmond]

Wonderful child

Platonic!Yandere!Muzan x Child!Fem! Reader

You were a wonderful child not only in the opinion of your own mother, but also in the opinion of your new father, whom you and your sister unconditionally accepted. But to tell the truth, first time your new father bothered you. He may not have done anything wrong, but you were a child with an incredibly developed sense of empathy and you felt every change in his mood better than your mother and sister.

That's probably why Muzan thought you were a wonderful child. You never bothered him and when it was necessary, you left and even more, you took your younger sister away when he was not in the best mood, which made it easier him to stay here.

That night, you saw how annoyed he was after meeting with a strange boy, so when you and your mom and sister said goodbye to him, he was leaving for some business meeting. You, unlike your sister and mom, didn't hug or kiss him, just wished him to come back soon and waved.

"Y/n, I don't think you get along very well with Muzan."

You looked surprised at your mom, who was talking to you.

"You hardly talk to him, I understand that you miss your real father, but..."

"No, I get along well with Muzan. He doesn't even mind anymore if I'm in the same room with him when he's busy."

"Was he against being in the same room with you? I mean, you're a calm girl and don't bother..."

"He didn't kick me out, it's just that my presence, at first, often annoyed him, and now he doesn't mind."

You smiled at your mom, calming her nerves, and your little sister repeated after you, your mom giggled. You really were a wonderful child.

However, a good streak cannot last forever and one day it really ended. Now you were lying in bed in terrible suffering. Muzan still hasn't returned, but his money was enough to delay the progress of your illness. The problem was that neither you not your mom had the strength. You couldn't fight with illness anymore, and your mom couldn't watching you cry and moan in pain, couldn't watching your medical analysis get worse and worse every day. Your mother couldn't contact her husband, and therefore she had to make this important decision on her own.

Muzan came back at night and he was furious when he heard that he had an hour to say goodbye to you when your heart stopped completely. Not caring about the force, he pushed your mother away.

Why can't this useless woman even take care of her own child?!

When he entered your room, he discovered your unconscious figure. You were lying on the bed and looked very much like a dead, but the demon still heard your weak heart. With his claw, he sharply scratched your cheek, giving a small amount of his blood.

At that moment, your sweet dream ended, you thought that the disease was terribly painful, but it was worse, much worse. Your whole body was bending in the opposite direction, you even heard the crunch of your own bones, but all this faded against the background of your cheek, it burned with hellish pain, and the skin near the wound seemed to melt.

Your little sister ran into your room after hearing the screams. And froze in horror. Muzan sat on your bed and held you in his arms while you squirmed and screamed. The father was calm, while you beat him with your head in agony, while he held your legs and arms. The girl immediately covered her eyes with her hands and wanted to run away, but the demon stopped her.

"Come here. Don't you want to help your sister?"

She wanted to help you, she has to help you, so she listens him and approaches you. You began to shake less, but blood poured out of your mouth.

"Dad, what can I..."

Abruptly Muzan grabs her by the head and begins to squeeze.

"Y/n will be very hungry when she becomes a demon and you will help her with that."

[teaandransacking]

In response to the Lockwood x reader smut I think that the “we might die tonight” concept is good thank youuuu

Hi! I hope you like this.

fever dream high in the quiet of the night

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x female reader ~ Words: 1600 ~ content: heavy petting, swearing, sexual tension

a/n: let's agree that Lockwood is 18 or over for the purposes of this fic, ok? ok thanks.

The room is very still around you.

You wish Lucy and George were here, but they’re back at Portland Row, recovering from rapier wounds. Barely a scratch, Lucy insisted, but Lockwood won’t have anyone working unless they’re at full health.

That should count you out, really. You’re never at full health around him. He’s as distracting and frustrating as he is magnetic. You could just as likely kiss him as punch his stupidly handsome face. Most of the time you think you’d choose to do both simultaneously.

Lockwood eventually shrugs off his coat. You’re in the third (?) sitting room of this manor house in Surrey, waiting for the clock to strike seven. That, according to your clients, is when the Visitors arrive. It’s quarter past six - you’re always early, and for once, Lockwood is, too.

“Getting comfy, are we?” you snark.

He folds his long body into the armchair, and you have to resist looking at his lap. You could easily curl yourself up on it.

He lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “We should rest while we have the chance. We’ll need our strength later, especially with our reduced numbers.”

You swallow. “Yeah. We’ve got this, though.”

He meets your gaze and nods one, decisively. “We’ll do admirably.” He stretches, and you almost miss it - the tiny wince that passes over his face.

He’s still in pain from the gunshot wound.

It was months ago, but-

Your throat goes tight to think of it. How you and Lucy and George closed ranks around him. How his eyes seemed so dim when he finally opened them. How limp he was.

You must make some sound of disquiet, because his eyes narrow and as always, he sees too much. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

He smiles, a little. “I’ll allow that I don’t know a huge amount about girls, but I do know when when they say fine like that, they’re far from it.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “You’re a massive hypocrite, you know that? You force Lucy and George to stay at home and rest, and meanwhile, your shoulder isn’t even fully healed.”

Something flashes across his face - vulnerability or pain, you can’t tell. “It’s fine.”

“Oh, and now who’s insisting they’re fine when they’re not?” You hiss, stalking over to him.

He stands from the chair, his face murderous. “You do not get to be in charge here. It’s my name on the door. I am responsible for all of you.”

“Yes! A job that, might I remind you, you cannot complete if you are dead!”

The word comes out in a sob and, startling yourself, you crumple against him.

His arms come around you instantly, and he gently tugs you down into the chair, urging your legs up so you are curled in his lap. You panic for a second but manage to arrange your rapier so it doesn’t stab either of you.

“You have a fucking death wish, don’t you, you prick,” you try to snap, but the seeing as you’re half-crying, the words don’t have the desired effect.

“Believe it or not, I fear death much more these days, now I have the three of you,” Lockwood says softly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

You freeze, and something in the air crackles.

You’ve never been alone together like this before. There’s always someone else in the house, or you’re walking somewhere - Tesco, Arif’s shop - and suddenly the yawning pit of need that constantly lives inside you around Lockwood opens its maw and begs.

“Can’t you just stay home just once?” you murmur into the soft, clean cotton of his dress shirt. “Just stay safe, for fucking once.”

“I’d be a pretty poor agency head if I did, darling.”

It’s the first time he’s used the endearment and it turns everything inside you to liquid. 

You lift your face and see that he’s gazing down at you, his dark eyes lust-blown, and he’s so tempting and so close. You slide your hand up his chest, cup his cheek. “Every time we do this, we court death. And I don’t want to die before we’ve had the chance to live.”

He inhales sharply at your words, and then his hands - warm and rapier-callused - cup your face and he captures your mouth a kiss.

It’s soft and sweet at first, then hungrier, deeper. Your tongues tangle. He tastes of bergamot and marmalade and it’s both exotic and comforting, and his mouth is pliable and delicious. You have limited time, so despite the fact you could kiss him for hours, days, you want more.

He makes a sad little sound when you break the kiss, and that alone makes you want to dive back in. 

Instead, you shift upwards, move to straddle his lap. When you next look down at him, his gaze is fixed on you, his eyes as black as night. He looks at you as if you personally hung the moon and every single star, and it’s heady, these feelings he always stirs inside you.

His hands slide down to your hips, pulling your body flush against his, and oh. He is definitely as into this as you are. 

His throat bobs as he swallows, and then he says, thickly, “Dreamed about this. Being near you. Like this.”

Your heart clenches. “Me, too,” you admit. You glance at the door. You’ll have to go out there soon. Endanger your life. Lockwood will protect you with his. You know it without a doubt.

“Hey,” he begins, and then he whispers your name in that low, buttery smooth voice. “Just be here with me. Don’t think about anything else.”

You almost snark back that he finally has a good idea, but this moment is perfect. You don’t want to ruin it, so you dip your head and kiss him, let your hands start to work on the knot of his tie. It slides through your hands, silky smooth, and then you’re deepening the kiss, plundering his mouth while your slip one, two, three of his shirt buttons through the tiny eyelets, then spread your greedy palms over the smooth, warm skin of his chest.

He groans into your mouth, and it’s a powerful thing, to rob Anthony bloody Lockwood of words, but then you find that any possible clever quip is stolen at your own mouth as his hands burrow under your jumper and cup your breasts through the bra. You arch into his touch, and he mutters something like “perfection” against your lips as he caresses you.

You grind into each other on the wide, soft armchair. He’s hard where you’re soft, and the pressure is exquisite. Impatient, you reach behind yourself, under your sweater, to unclip your bra, and when Lockwood feels the cups release and your bare skin against his, he swears, low and guttural, and making him come this undone makes you feral for him.

He pushes the hem of your sweater up, breaks the kiss, and then sets a hand under your bottom, urging you up so he can put his mouth on your breasts. His face is just a little rough from half a day’s stubble, and the tiny hurt grounds you as he lavishes attention on one breast and then the next, while the push and pull of pleasure makes you dizzy. You fist your hands in his hair, and it’s warm and silky.

You arch your back, pressing into his mouth, and all you can think is yes and don’t stop, and he doesn’t. He is nothing if not thorough, but then it’s not enough, and you’re impatient, every iota of you on fire. You unsnap your jeans and almost rip open the buttons, taking one of his hands from your chest and shoving it right where you want it.

To his credit, Lockwood is a fast learner - he can’t have become the UK’s youngest agency head for nothing, you suppose - and he finds your clit after a only few fumbles, quickly learning which movements make you cry out and press into his hands. 

You’ve wanted this for so long that you’re soaked, and it doesn’t take long before that tell-tale sensation begins to coil in your belly.

“Say my name,” he murmurs against the curve of your breast. “Please.”

And he circles his finger over you twice more and you come like that, squirming against him, breathing his name -  his first name - and he sighs as he works you through the orgasm, until you’re shuddering from it.

You drop a kiss on his forehead, and you’re about to ask if you can return the favour, find out what he likes, how he tastes, Christ that’d be hot - and the clock strikes seven.

Lockwood withdraws his hand, pulls your jumper down.

“This is not over,” you whisper.

He flashes that megawatt grin. “Not by a long shot.”

And reluctantly, you break apart and get ready to face whatever is behind the door in this old house. 

But you’ll do it together.

[aroacewxs]

wxs and how they sleep

tsukasa

late, light sleeper. tired of seeing "tsukasa gets all his eight hours!" NO. HE DOES NOT. HE IS BARELY GETTING BY. HE IS RUNNING ON HOPES AND DREAMS AND SPITE AND HOPES AND DREAMS AND SPITE ONLY. he would chide everyone else around him to sleep early and rest up while he sleeps at 3 trying to perfect one line that is bothering him deeply to his core like an itch under your skin. sleeps on his back, that loser. HANDS FOLDED ACROSS HIS STOMACH TOO LMAOOOOOOO. i also feel like he would try sleeping on the floor after hearing that it's good for your back.

he starts the night on his back and his hands folded but he tosses and turns and wakes up on the floor twisted like a Baked Pretzel with unbearable neck pain and mystery bruises on his legs. he wakes up to the smallest bump in the night and takes ages to fall back asleep. at some point after staring up at his ceiling for an hour he decides that it's hopeless and reads up on theatre instead.

it is also canon he snores, so for the small amount of time he IS asleep, he's doing it very very loudly and obnoxiously

emu

early, deep sleeper. drools. the official Snrrkk Mimimi of wxs. emu is the type of person to have bubbles pop out of her nose when she snores. she literally has "z's" floating above her and escaping throughout her window and into the night sky when she sleeps. emu is the type of person to wake up to roosters going cock a doodle doo and leap out of her bed (with her blankets being made instantly in the process). sleeps on her side, cuddles with pillows and stuffies!

i also think emu would fall asleep very easily on any kind of vehicle if she wasn't excited about every little thing that happens on these rides. car? oh my god, look! cows! plane? are you kidding! she's literally airborne! what is there not to be excited about! boat? are you kidding! she's literally floating! what is there not to be excited about! and was that a fish???

it is also canon that she sleep talks. which is so fitting. she really is a cartoon character

nene

late, deep sleeper. sleep talker. sleeps on her side and occasionally on her stomach with one leg propped up, arms up as if she were surrendering to the police. nene falls victim to the 3-5pm eepiness every time, well knowing that she will not be able to sleep later when she's supposed to and ends up playing video games instead.

when she IS asleep though, nene is as still as a rock. you cannot move her. you cannot wake her up. if someone were to shake her awake, she'd be cranky all throughout breakfast. she has to slide out of bed, blankets wrapped around her body, and slowly make her way to the kitchen on her own accord with little bubbles popping around her head, all cartoon-esque.

rui

late, light sleeper. sleep talker. SLEEP LAUGHER. also has the weirdest dreams, some he itches to tell his friends and use as show inspiration, some leave him sitting there, half awake, wondering what the fuck he just dreamt as he blinks away the sleep in his eyes in dazed confusion.

his sleeping position is sitting, face smushed against blueprints on his desk. unfortunately. but if he were to actually drag himself to his garage couch or to his room (im pretty sure he has a bedroom, but doesn't go there because he spends so much time in his work room), he would free fall onto his face and sleep on his stomach and then wake up on his side or a weird twist of sorts.

[vvfiya]

Injured

Backstory; Y/N (21) is visiting her boyfriend (25) and his father, Joel Miller (51) in his new house for the summer.

CW; Blood, Scars, mentions of alcohol, rubbing alcohol, big age gap, oral sex (f), unprotected p and v, safeword, petnames, shy!reader, aggressive Joel??

10:22 PM; Y/N cannot sleep.

It's late at night. Im sitting downstairs in the kitchen, wondering what I could do to pass time. I grab a glass of water and drink it delicately, waiting for my eyes to just- close.

CRASH

My eyes widen. I gasp for air as the sound makes me choke on my water.

'What the fuck was that!?'

I set the glass down and look over at the front door. It's Joel? He's bruised! Covered in scars and blood.. I jump from my chair and run to the door. Joel is limping as he walks into the house.

"Oh my god! Mr. Miller, what happened!?"

Before Joel could take another step, I grab his arm, putting it over my shoulder. I lead Joel to the kitchen and sit him down on a chair. I start to panic, grabbing the bandages and rubbing alcohol from the pantry up top the oven.

I grab some cotton swabs and generously pour a good amount of alcohol onto it. The slightest bit of touch on a wound made him hiss.

"How did this happen!?" I say, with a worried tone.

Joel nods his head. "Its nothing, you don't need to help me.. I got-"

Joel goes mute as soon as I slowly start to caress his beard, cleaning the bloody scar on his cheek. He sighs and watches me clean his wounds.

I was the same height Joel is sitting on the chair right now. I can feel his eyes on my body. When I wiped the blood off of a scar, he clenched his knuckles, slowly moving towards me and resting his forehead on my chest. My cheeks start to heat up, but I have to focus..

I pour some more alcohol onto the cotton swab and move the silver strands of hair out of his face. Before I could tell him, he moves his head up looking into my eyes with his dark orbs. Joels legs were partly open. I was in between them, just in case I needed to get closer for another wound.

I run a hand through his smooth hair and he closes his eyes exhaling as the cotton swab grazes his wound. The alcohol stings him and he grunts, slamming the table, then clawing at my thighs.

I stifle a moan, hoping he wouldn't hear. His touch felt so strong against me..

I motion Joel, moving his head up again. I move the swab to a scar near his eyebrow. It looked like it was cut really deep.. I click my tongue and whine.

Joel raises his eyebrow, "What?"

"The cut is really deep Mr. Miller! This is going to hurt.."

He sighs and nods his head, reassuring me. I place a hand on the left side of his beard, moving my thumb back and forth slowly caressing it. It'd seem to calm him down. The cotton swab hits his scar and he grunts, gripping onto my thighs much tighter.

The stressful pain makes him groan. His head falls to my stomach. I can feel his hot breath on my body as he strokes my thighs.

"Im sorry Mr. Miller.. but, at least the cuts won't get infected anymore?" I add an awkward laugh.

Joel looks up at me with hooded eyes and muffles a chuckle.

I look at the scar on Joels forehead. My hand moves up to his hair, moving the strands out of the way. I furrow my brows, massaging his hair without even noticing it myself.

Joel closes his eyes. I notice what I'm doing and flick my hand away.

"Im-Im sorry. That was highly inap-"

"No. No, it felt nice." Joel cuts me off and grabs my hand, placing it on his head.

His head moves down to my thighs, resting it there. I let out a pleasing sigh as he runs a hand up the back of my thigh. Joel lets out a small chuckle as he gets closer and closer to that one spot.

"You want this don't you?" Joel asks.

My eyes widen and I blush, "W-What..?"

Joel clicks his tongue, "I heard your mumbled little moans, I know you want me to touch you."

Before I could say anything else, I whine feeling a hot pair of lips pressed against the inside of my thigh.

"Can I touch you, sweetheart?" Joel asks.

I nod my head yes and he smirks, bringing my body closer to him. He places his head under my shirt, licking and kissing at my lower stomach as he moves his hand closer and closer to where I need him.

I giggle at the feeling of his small kisses on my stomach. His fingers hit my clit, and I gasp moving my hands back onto his head. Joel smiles against my stomach as his fingers slowly move back and forth. I moan, the knot in my stomach starting to unlace.

"Joel-Joel! please.." I beg.

"Please what honey? What do you need me to do?" Joel asks.

"Does this pretty little pussy need to be licked? Just look at it, begging to be eaten out by me.." Joel shakes his head, frowning at my reaction.

"You poor thing.. I'll make it up to you."

In the snap of a finger, Joel ripped my panties off and dipped his head into my pussy. I moaned at the feeling of his warm tongue against my clit.

“This is-mhm-this is wrong.. I- I’m dating your son!” I cried out but I wasn’t even listening to myself. I knew I wanted this bad. Joel Miller had me stuck.

“Sweetheart, I’ve watched you. I’ve felt your emotions, your pain. I know what you feel when he comes home late at night, the smell of perfume and pussy lingering on him.” Joel says.

Joel moves his head deeper in, licking much more aggressively than before. I whimper as my eyes roll back into my skull. Joel flicks his tongue causing my legs to tremble around him. He laughs into my pussy, vibrations going up my spine. I let out countless whimpers and cries.

I scream out as my orgasm takes over my body. Joel kept licking at my clit, getting more and more aggressive. I can feel the pressure rising upon me. Joel stuck his tongue deep down in my pussy making my back arch. I gasp, trying to push him away.

I lightly hit his head, but he wouldn’t budge. I was slowly starting to see stars as my next orgasm was letting out. I scream out Joel’s name, begging him to stop. As soon as my hand lands on his head, he grips my wrist and stands up. My cum dripped from his mouth wetting his beard.

“You’re such a good girl.. just a moaning mess, begging for me to fuck your brains out.” Joel says.

I suck in my breath before he tightens the grip on my wrist and turns me around, pushing me against the table.

“I’m going to get behind you, and you are going to take my cock like the good girl your are.. got it?” Joel demands.

I shake under his touch, “Yes sir.”

Joel snickers, “‘Yes sir’ You do too much to me Y/N..”

My stomach hits the cold marble. I gasp as Joel’s hands slither down to my thighs.

Joel moves his head down to my ear, “I need you to let me know when it hurts. I can’t hurt you, so you are going to slap the table two times, letting me know you need to rest. Got it?”

I nod my head, “Y-Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” Joel says, smiling.

Joel slowly starts to remove his pants, then his boxers. I was turned around so I couldn’t see, but I could feel what was coming..

I could feel the tip of Joel’s dick on my entrance, teasing me.

“Thank you for healing me honey. Here’s your reward.” Joel says.

He slowly presses my body down on his dick. I roll my eyes back, his length filling me by the second. He lightly moves his dick around, making sure I’m doing okay. As soon as I was ready, he smirks and thrust deep inside of me. His hand covers my mouth, mumbling my moans and cries.

“Come on now sweetheart.. you can take it, I know you can.” Joel grunts into my ear.

I could feel his other hand claw at my thighs as his thrust get faster and faster. My back arches, the pleasure too much. I keep one hand on the table and one hands on his hair, gripping onto it tightly.

Joel hits a part of me that sends me over the edge. I gasp and arch my back harder. My head falls back onto his shoulder. His head dips into my neck as he rubs my clit with his free hand. I could feel my orgasm getting closer and closer.

“No one makes you feel as good as I do. Give me it honey, cum for me.” Joel mumbles into my neck.

I cum onto his cock, but he just keeps going. He scrunches his face up and starts to move a little slower. I could hear his grunts getting louder by the minute.

“I’m gonna cum.. cum with me.” Joel says.

I widen my eyes wondering if I was even able to move anymore. His fingers move at a dangerous speed, hitting my clit and thrusting deeper. I tighten my grip on his hair as he keeps his head in my neck.

“Mr Miller, I’m- I’m cumming..” I yell out.

“I am too. Let it go sweetheart, cum with me.” Joel replies.

I cum the same time Joel does. My eyes roll back as I groan, begging for air. Joel’s seed shot deep in me as he makes me his.

“Good girl, very good girl.” Joel smiles.

He turns me around, kissing me. My eyes widen but I feel his hands graze my thigh. I smile and kiss him back, placing a hand on his beard. I let go of the kiss and Joel just looks at me with a big smile.

“Thank you for healing me, doctor.” Joel says.

I laugh and move a gray strand of hair out of his face. “No problem, Mr. Miller.”

~

ITS SO LATE LMAOAOAO anyway. This was my first ever smut I was like lowkey drunk while writing most of this so sorry for the bad grammar and bad like everything…… but like hope you guys enjoyed!! Remember to smash that like button or whatever.

FOLLOW MY TIKTOKK; @vvfiya ❤️

[interlunium-opus]

Enhypen Hyung Line as Taylor Swift's Songs from the Midnights Album: Jay as Midnight Rain

⎡ Check out other members: Heeseung as Lavender Haze ||| Jake as Labyrinth ||| Sunghoon as Snow on the Beach ⎦

This guy, to me, is someone who takes dating and love very seriously: essentially someone who dates to marry. Pair that with his apparent proclivity to be selfless and his nature that tends towards being empathetic and nurturing, you get him as the other party in Midnight Rain, the one who got his heart broken, the one who wanted a bride.

"I broke his heart 'cus he was nice He was sunshine, I was midnight rain He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain He wanted a bride, I was chasing my own name Chasing that fame, He stayed the same All of me changed like midnight"

So so imagine you two have been best friends for so long and while deep down you two always felt that perhaps your feelings for one another exceeds that of friendship norms, you two always repress it.

While he was ready and eager to take it to a more serious level and settle down, he was far too considerate of your feelings. He knew you weren't ready for a relationship, not with anyone including him. More than fearing the possibility of being rejected however, what deterred him most was in not wanting to put you in such a difficult spot. He remembered how distraught you were whenever you received such confessions – how easily you paint yourself as the 'bad' person for having to reject them or ghost them. So he decided to repress them, satisfied enough with being able to be around you and spend an inordinate amount of time with you.

Jay was indeed correct. Dating has never between something of priority or interest to you. You didn't like being tied down and more importantly, you had great ambitions and were a workaholic essentially having no space nor time to spare. Not even for yourself, let alone for others.

That being said, feelings, no matter how repressed will usually seep through. For Jay in particular, whose language of love revolves around acts of service and gift giving, it was very evident as it was also amplified to great heights by his proclivity to be selfless.

Like he could be running on zero sleep, but he'd still be outside your door early in the morning with your coffee. He could have just arrived in Seoul after a long flight but he'd immediately shop for groceries and stop by your place to cook you a full-course meal as a surprise for when you come home. He could have been sick but would still run out of bed when you called him to go outside and play snowball fights with you. Heck, you could even tell him you crush on someone else and he'd still root for you all the way: helping you to win the guy over no matter how much it breaks him.

But the selflessness eventually grew too excessive for you.

Now, you had always told him off for being so selfless to a fault – that if he kept it up, he was bound to be taken advantage by others. Combined that with the fact that he's very softhearted – he is pretty much setting himself up for a heartbreak. But then you realised that his selflessness and affection towards you was treading that very dangerous waters.

He'd get food take-outs delivered to you since you hate going out during lunch; he'd bring you to dine at expensive restaurants but always beat you to the bill despite your insistence not to; he'd gift you branded items that costs an arm and a leg; when it's busy or stressful week for you he'd take you out to ease your mind but it's always to a resort, spa, etc – all the pricey destinations that somehow already get paid for. As if making your life as pain-free as possible was his life goal, he would strive hard towards it whether it is by spending more of his time or money.

You have consistently told him that you didn’t need any of it, that you cannot give him the same in return but each time, he would shrug it off, saying it was nothing, saying how he never wanted anything in return. This banter would often resurface, again and again, until you've had enough one day and decided to confront him about it. It turned into an argument to which you realised that as long as you're around him, he would willingly let himself razed to the ground for you.

"You deserve someone better," you finally said, "I don't think you'll even try to find one as long as I'm around." "You're my lifeline y/n," head buried on the crook of your neck, his arms tightened around you as he hugged you close, voice weak, "you don't have to love me the same way, you don't have to repay me in any kind, you don't have to do anything else – just be you and be in my life. That's all that matters for me." "I know you Jay, you won't change, ever," you sighed, letting yourself sink in his embrace possibly for the last time, "but I'm not selfish and I won't let you continue giving up what you deserve like this. Please, find someone else – you're meant for someone better."

Fast forward to 5 years later, all the grind pays off and you were more successful than you could ever imagine - reaching the pinnacle of your work.

One evening during a formal networking event, you found your eyes wandering around the bustling crowd, landing upon a familiar tall figure that. It was Jay, already staring back, gaze soft and lips curved into the sweet smile you've just only realised to greatly miss. Almost on auto-pilot, you smiled back, lost in the moment before suddenly getting wheeled back to reality by your director, who was eager to introduce you to yet another person of importance.

You soon discreetly slipped out to the balcony, overwhelmed by the amount of socializing you have done tonight – finding solace in the quiet and darkness of the night. You were soon interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You put on your best customer-service smile as you spun around, ready to put on the extrovert facade and begrudgingly indulge in yet another tiresome round of small talk – only to see that it was Jay who looked amused at the way your smile drop.

"I don't know if I should be offended that you immediately dropped your customer service smile when you saw that it was me or be grateful and take it as a sign that I'm special enough that you're not putting the facade up for me too," he raised his brows before his expressions softened into that of resignation, "you haven't changed y/n. I mean, apart from looking more beautiful and getting more successful, that hermit is apparently still alive inside of you as evidenced by you escaping like this."

"Nor you. Apart from losing the baby fat and having a much sharper jawline, you still show up looking like old money," you quipped, shaking your head dismissively as you eyed him from top to bottom, “I bet what you're currently wearing have yet been released.”

"You know me well, it's for next season."

“Bet it costs a fortune too?”

“Well, without you – my voice of reason – I’m floundering my cash like a fool,” he shrugged, wiggling his brows.

“Oh wow, look at you. Gone for 5 years to the US and coming back as a full-fledged flirt huh?”

“Or maybe, turning more honest?" he smiled softly, taking a few steps closer towards you, "I've missed you."

You stared back at him in silence, revelling in those soft gazes, "I've missed you too."

"There is something else that is unchanged," he muttered softly and his gaze softened.

"Don't tell me you still buy those-"

"I still love you."

Suddenly, the whole world went quiet and you feel all choked up – remembering the self-sacrificing Jay that you hurt from years ago. Truth is, it was only after Jay left to the US years ago that you belatedly realise how your feelings for Jay all those while also went beyond friendship norms. It took you his absence to realise and confront but by then, it was far too late and you eventually accepted that letting him go was your biggest life regret.

But here he was, standing before you, professing how his feelings had never dimmed. How he still loved you. You knew the you from years ago would have immediately jumped into his arms, telling him how you were sorry for being so negligent and ignorant of his feelings and of depriving him of his too from your side. Unfortunately, as if the stars are never aligned for you both, it was too late this time too.

"There you are."

You two whipped your head towards the direction of the voice and you found your boyfriend, Sunghoon, standing by the door, "I was starting to get worried when I couldn't find you anywhere inside-" he muttered softly as he took his blazers off and wrapped it over your exposed shoulders, knowing how susceptible you are to the cold. He snaked his hand over your waist, pulling you close towards him possessively. You could see the surprise and confusion in Jay's eyes and it was starting to gnaw you from inside.

"Jay is it? I've heard a lot about you," Sunghoon smiled amicably as he turned his attention to Jay and offered his hand. Jay, always so amiable and diplomatic returned the gesture, smiling and shaking his hand firmly, "Yes. It's nice to meet you. I must have been gone for too long, I didn't know you two have become an item."

You swallowed thickly. To anyone, that voice and the gaze may have looked normal but as someone who knew him well, you could hear the sadness and dismay in his tone and gaze. "We've been together for two years now," Sunghoon gave you a slight squeeze, "actually, we should all go out together sometime. I am pretty sure there are a lot of things you could tell me about her since you two were best friends for a long time."

"yeah, we were indeed best friends for a long time," he beamed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he shot you his signature soft gaze, "I'm just happy that she is in good hands now."

Not long after, as Sunghoon ushered you back inside with him to catch the Executive Director's closing speech, you turned around briefly to bid Jay goodbye. He was still staring at you while leaning back against the bannister and as you met his eyes, his lips curved into the softest, most genuine smile though the glistening eyes told you otherwise. As if registering your guilt, he mouthed, "I'm happy for you," with a hand on his chest as if to emphasize it. 

That expression and gesture would forever haunt you – resurfacing during the midnights when you tossed and turned, serving like living reminder how you had hurt someone who has been nothing but kind, generous and loving to you, not once, but twice.

[13as07]

Object #5

(Akatsuki)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to m-joice]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 4,538

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Characters include: Pain/Nagato, Konan, Sasori, Tobi, Kakuzu

Itachi too but he's living his best NPC/background character life

Choking/Slapping

Dry humping

Name Calling: Whiney, Bitch

Death /Violence Threats

Little heated at the end (obviously ^)

———————————————————————

My body aches as Nagato shifts me around, freeing one of his arms to open the door to the hideout. The aches are courtesy of our travel home, the cruel heat of the sun, and Pain's last bit of time to have me to himself.

Our long-term trip was nice and rather enjoyable even if he was the normal brick wall of nonexistent emotions. I like it when I get time alone with Pain, he's a little less 'I want the world to burn' and a little more 'I want the world to simmer'.

But, that's done for now, which makes me a bit nervous. Almost a month away from the other members means a lot of pent-up needs and the promise of them filling their needs cruelly, in any way necessary.

The thought makes me stiffen and causes my fingers to dig into Nagato's shoulders deeper. "We are not even through the door yet, what could you possibly be upset about?" He grumbles, arm back around my leg once the door swings open.

"I'm not upset. I'm just... worried, I suppose."

"Worried about what?" He asks, his tune still bored and a bit annoyed. I'm shifted backward, Pain using me to push the door closed. "Princess, you're upsetting me," he continues to grumble when I don't answer. Nagato takes a slow pace down the hallway, his footsteps silent so as to not startle the other members. "I cannot fix a worry I do not know about."

     "Just your... employees," I mutter, burying my head into his neck. His chain necklace is warm for once, the metal weighing on my nose because of my placement.

     "They are not employees."

     "Then what are they?"

     My question is ignored, silence feeling the imaginary space between us. Pain has picked up the habit of carrying me around on his back, insisting it's because he wants to travel further before dark or the occasional excuse that I get tired quicker than he does.

     "Why are you worried about the members?" He mutters after a while, stopping at the hallway intersection. Nagato's head swirls back and forth, shifting his decision between heading towards his office or stopping in our room first. "Princess, I am about five seconds away from making sleep outside. Why are you worried about the members?" Pain's patients are almost nonexistent at this point of the day, his anger bubbling the longer I take to answer.

     "We were gone for a while and they get a little... needy, is all. I mean, they're always needy when we leave for some personal time but we were gone longer than usual."

     "It was not personal time," Nagato mumbles, finally deciding to head towards his office. "It was simply some time away, a break on your body."

     "Wasn't much of a break last night," I mutter, picking my head up and scanning the hallway. Sooner or later one of his members is going to pop up. They're all usually home by now unless they're on an away mission.

     He's 'displeased' by my comment, proven by him dropping his hold on me. Despite that, his hands shoot up to grip my wrists, helping me slide back onto my feet. "I will take of it."

     "Like, stringing Hidan in a tree - take care of it, or?" I ask, balling his robe in my hands, continuing to let the terrorist lead me forward.

     "I will inform them at dinner that you are off limits," Nagato huffs out, my questions picking at the minimal amount of patience he has at the moment.

     "Explain?"

     A deep sigh escapes the man, just a hint of his body deflating alongside the noise. "I will give you forty-eight hours. I will tell them you are not to be touched, and then I will limit them."

     "Limit them?" I push, tugging on the cloth in my hold so I can run my hands under Pain's shirt.

     His movement stalls, but not before his hand snakes backward to grip my wrists, stopping my plan to feel his skin against mine again. "I will give you a week of no physicality. Your mouth is more than capable of handling them. Is that a suitable time frame for their needs to even out?"

     I hum a yes, enjoying the sight and feeling of Pain's fingers knotted alongside mine. "Thank you."

     "Be silent, your voice is becoming annoying." The command is harsh but soft enough that I almost miss it when Nagato opens his office door. "I have work to do. If you will be silent you can be a pretty object for me to look at. If a sound spills from you, I will leave you to the members to use until dinner. Am I understood?"

     I nod my head, yes, trailing into the small room after the annoyed man. The room is dark, at least until Pain flips the light switch, flooding the room with the soft yellow of its lightbulb. "Find somewhere out of the way to sit," he mutters, dropping our bags on his desk before rummaging through them. "Perhaps you can read your new book as I work."

     Again, I nod yes as I curl up against his side, watching him search for one of my newest gifts. "Good, be silent, be out of the way," he mutters, shoving one of the books into my hands.

     It's the one on origami I begged him to buy. One of the booths we stumbled upon during our trip was covered in little paper statues, piquing my interest. I saw it as a waste buying the folded papers especially when the person running the stand was also selling 'how to' books, hence why I got my way.

     "Now, out from under my feet," Nagato orders, shooing me away. I do as I'm told, finding a space in the room to curl up in and start my new read.

                        ————————————

     A knock on the door fills the room, pulling both Pain's and my attention. Despite his insistence that I stay out of the way, I've slowly been tugged into his lap by the unattached man himself. As he looks over different scrolls and papers I don't understand I've been folding scrap papers trying - and failing - to make a swan.

     A warning glance is sent my way, a nonverbal command to once again stay quiet and stay out of the way. I do as expected of me, focusing back on my book as I attempt to fold the paper correctly this time. "Come in," Nagato's voice echoes, his arms loose but still very present around my waist. Konan must be the one who knocked.

     I'm proven right when the door swings open, the all-business woman standing in the frame. "Welcome back, Pain," she mutters walking into the room. She settles across the table from us, a silent staring contest going on as Konan refuses to acknowledge me and Pain refuses to speak until she does.

     Like always, Koana loses. A soft, "Lapdog," is muttered in my direction with a paired glare. It's good enough for Nagato, who goes into a ramble about whatever the hell he did while we were in the Leaf and Sound villages.

Their conversation becomes background noise as I mess with the sheet, my impatience and anger quickly bubbling as I fail at getting the swan to come out right again. Nagato's hand shifts up, cupping my face to massage my jaw which I hadn't noticed was clenching.

"Dumb dog, pay attention" Konan mumbles, ripping the paper from my hands. Her eyes flicker to my book for a second before they settle back on the sheet of paper. My sights trail over her fingers, watching the way she folds the paper. I don't know if I'm more pissed or happy when she tugs on the paper, shifting the page into a proper swan.

Once again her attention shifts to my book, flipping through the pages before she settles on a page. Her eyes scan for a second before she steals another sheet from me.

"As I was saying," Nagato says, arms falling back to my hips. I drown him out, finding it pointless to pay attention to a conversation that'll give me more questions than answers.

Instead, I pay attention to the paper lady, leaning forward to see what page she landed on. Go figure, it's the dog folding technique. Konan is still focused on the conversation, not even bothered to pay attention to her hands as she folds the paper.

Despite the lack of focus, the sheets turn out exactly like the example picture, ticking me off even more. I shouldn't be surprised Konan is good at origami, after all, she is the paper ninja.

Throughout the unofficial meeting, her eyes flicker between Nagato and me, making sure I'm paying attention to the slow movements of her hands and how she folds the paper. By the time she gets up to leave, five little paper statues cover Nagato's desk.

"Pain," she mumbles, nodding her goodbye before turning towards me. "Useless Mutt," she mutters my way before turning on her heels to leave. She leaves behind her folded papers; a swan, a dog, a butterfly, a frog, and a flower.

     Nagato sighs, head resting against my shoulder for a second before he turns back to his work. I go back to my scraped papers, slowly folding them in the ways Konan showed me.

                        ————————————

     The dining room is tense, the weight of Pain's orders about me hanging in the air. Despite his orders, Nagato toys with the hem of my dress, his boner pressed against my butt as I sit on his lap. I'm not too surprised, his body has grown used to me warming his dick during our meals and for once I'm not.

     The room is mostly silent, besides the sound of Itachi and Deidara in the kitchen making dinner. Everyone - besides Sasori - stares at me, everyone soaking in the uncomfortable atmosphere. I swear the sexual tension in the room is thick enough to choke someone.

     Sasori's eyes are focused on my hands that toy with the fingers Pain hasn't settled on my thigh. "Puppet?" He calls, glancing at his leader before settling on my fingers again. "Give me your hand."

     I let out a hum, turning my attention to the puppeteer. "Why?"

     I don't get an answer. Instead, his eyes flicker around as he shifts forward, being careful to wrap up my hand and not touch Pain. Sasori moves slowly, tugging my arm toward him before resting it on the table. His fingertips slide over my skin, shifting the position of my arm how he wants it.

     My eyes trail after his movements, curiosity sparked at whatever the puppet master has planned. Sasori's hands duck down, snatching Nagato's attention. Pain's hand tightens on my leg, shifting it further away from the puppeteer. Besides that, Nagato leaves me be, letting Sasori do whatever he has planned.

     Sasori's hands jump back up, clenched around a box of markers. He settles the box on the table, snapping the lid open before he looks through the colors. He settles on one, a mossy green.

     The room fills with the popping of the top being tugged off the marker, jump-starting the room into normalcy. Conversations pick up, everything from Pain being filled in about recent missions to the weather.

     Focuses shift away from me, breaking some of the tension in the room, and putting my body at ease. I settle against Nagato's chest, watching as Sasori hovers his marker over different parts of my arm. The tip dips down, pressing the cool ink into my skin as he trails it over my arm. A continuous line twirls over my skin, starting from the dip of my elbow before ending in a rolled line across my wrist.

     Ori mumbles to himself, flapping his hand around to help the ink dry as he focuses on the marker box again. I watch him toy with the colors before tugging two of them out, both slightly different greens from the line pressed into my skin.

     Pain glances down, eyes settling on Sasori's fingers gently skirting over my skin as he adds different-sized oval shapes to the line. Nagato's attention doesn't stay there long though, it snaps to the box. He tugs the box over, eyes scanning it before settling it back in place. The big 'washable ink' label faces us, helping me make Pain's actions make sense.

     Sasori doesn't seem to care - or notice. His focus is on the ovals, adding details to make them look like leaves. "Two colors?" He says, placing the greens back into their spots.

     "Um... orange and purple, I guess," I mutter, watching as he tugs out different shades of my answer.

     Ori continues doodling on my arm, trailing different circle-themed shapes against the vine. Now and again his fingertips rub against my arm, smudging and rubbing away the lines he doesn't like. "I am bored, speak puppet," he orders, eyes glancing at me for a second before they fall back to his project.

     "Pain got me some new books while we were away," I start, watching for a reaction. It's hard to tell what Sasori likes and doesn't like hearing about. A hum is sent my way as he focuses on filling in the off-brand circles that I've managed to figure out are flowers. "I'm excited about one of them. Well, I'm excited about all of them but the one I'm going to read first is about - "

     "This is an unamusing conversation. Talk about something else," he grumbles, getting a pointed look from Pain, one that Sasori doesn't see, but definitely feels. "Please," he adds, his marker being pressed into my skin a bit harsher.

     "While I was away we took a detour to the Sound Village. I got to see a weird snake-looking man. His eyeliner was on point though," I ramble, describing the man Pain had a very heated conversation with. That seems to pique Sasori's interest, just enough that his eyes flicker up on occasion as I speak.

     When the puppeteer is done with his work, my arm is fanned again to help all the ink dry. The trailing vine is coated in differently shaped leaves. Different shades and designed flowers decorate my skin too, in the orange and purple I requested. "How pretty," Ori mumbles, rubbing his marker-tinted fingertips over the art. "Don't ruin it," he orders, eyes set on me.

     "I won't," I answer, getting an approving head nod in return. My eyes trail over the design, causing a smile to tug at the corners of my mouth. What a nifty little artist the puppet master is.

                        ————————————

Itachi's crow waddles around my shoulders, its beak knotting in my hair as it tries to eat it... or maybe it's trying to pluck it, I can't tell. Nonetheless, there's a crow in my hair and a crow-themed boy standing near me.

My little bubble of paradise with Nagato has been popped, leaving him doing something with Konan as I'm left to my own devices. Seeing how tense some of the members are, I've decided sitting on the counter as Itachi washes the dinnerware is probably my safest bet until Pain is back in the building.

So far that's been true. He's on the outskirts of my little world, hands submerged in the sink as I read one of my new books out loud, nodding his head along as I read to him. Occasionally Itachi will murmur, asking me to repeat something he didn't hear or correcting my pronunciation of I word I jumble up, reminding me that he is listening and I'm not wasting my breath.

"Dolly!" Tobi's voice rings out, cutting off my sentence. Itachi's eyes glance towards me before landing back on his task, leaving me to deal with the childish man on my own.

Said man-child is quickly in the kitchen, his body constantly shifting because of his inability to stand still. "Tobs," I call back, scanning the pink paper bag in his hands.

"I did what you said," he says, shaking the bag as he moves closer to me. "I've been waiting forever to share these with you."

"You did what I said?" I ask, setting my book down before I shift on the counter.

"Yes! You said next time I find a sweet treat I should bring you some so you can try it. So, on my last mission, I stopped and got us some jelly beans to share," Tobi rambles on, setting the bag down before he pulls out a couple of bags of jelly beans. He continues to ramble, running around the kitchen in search of a pair of scissors and a bowl.

"That sounds cool, Tobs," I coo, smiling at his little information dump even though I don't understand half the things he's saying. "Thank you for thinking of me."

"Of course, Dolly," he chirps, settling the now jelly bean-filled bowl in my lap. "The pink ones are strawberry flavored. They're my favorite."

"Oh ya?" I ask, digging through the bowl. I pick up a few of the pink-colored ones, popping a few in my mouth before tapping on Tobi's mask.

He's reluctant as he lifts it, his movements slow as he uncovers the bottom of his face. After I drop the remaining ones in his mouth, Tobs snaps his mask back in place. "The orange ones are, well orange. White is melon, purple is grape, the like tan looking ones are peach, and the yellow ones are banana flavored."

I hum in response, picking out a few beans of each color so we - well, so I can try them. Our circle repeats, a few of one color for me, taps to Tobi's mask, his slow shift of the obnoxiously orange face covering, and a few for him.

"Which one is your favorite?" He asks, chewing away at the last favor we tried.

"I'm not sure. They all have their positives and negatives," I answer him, scooping up some more of the sugary snack.

"Or maybe you're just not a jelly bean fan," Tobi giggles, shaking the candy out of my hand before he mimics my previous movements. He picks up some of the snack, picking at them in his palm before plopping them in my mouth like I was doing to him. "I'll get us a different treat next time I'm out. We'll find the candy really, really like."

"Whatever you say, Tobs," I giggle out around my mouth full of jellies.

"Maybe next time I'll grab a box of pocky sticks," he mutters, focused on sorting the beans by flavor. "I'll get all the different flavors for us to try."

"Alright, Tobi." The answer is good enough for Mr Happy-Go-Lucky, who's back to prancing in place as he snacks on and feeds me more of the sweet treat.

                        ————————————

"Why are you never where I need you to be?" A voice rings out, paired with a hand gripping my throat. I'm tugged out of the chair in Nagato's office, where I was curled up to try and read my book again.

The book tumbles to the floor as I'm lifted, another fit of yelling aimed my way before I have time to process who or why I'm being yelled at. "I swear you're the most useless Penny I've ever owned. Why can't you be where I need you?"

It's Kakuzu yelling at me because, of course, it is. I swear the man probably ran around the hideout yelling at me while I was away with Pain, even though I wasn't physically around to piss him off. I'm just the scapegoat for his anger problem.

"Zu," I whimper, trying to wiggle my fingers under his to loosen his grip. It's not as tight as usual, Nagato's little speech at dinner keeping the assassin at bay enough not to leave proof of his disobedience.

"Why are always so whiny? Hm? Why are you such a whiny bitch?" He grumbles, using my throat to lift me over the chair and resting me against his chest. "Forty-four more hours until I can stuff your mouth and stop all that whiny shit," Kakuzu taunts, hands falling to my thighs, gripping them and forcibly rubbing me against his erection.

"Zu," I hiss, clinging to his shoulders and tightening my legs around his waist to try to stop my forced movements. It doesn't work. If anything it encourages him more to dry hump me. "Kakuzu, you heard Pain. Knock it off."

"Tattletale," he groans, shoving my hips into his, leaving himself pressed under my skirt, but stopping the forced grinding.

Somewhat stopping the forced movement. Kakuzu starts moving, causing me to rub against him as he walks around the chair. He plops down in it, making sure I shift and I'm slammed against his dick when he sits down, temporally satisfying his needs.

"Pervy old man," I mutter, shifting so I'm kneeling over his lap instead of having myself pressed into his groin.

Kakuzu's hand swings forward, a warning slap landing on my cheek. It's gentler than normal, again his attempt to be able to deny anything I might tell Nagato, but pain still aches across my skin. "I swear, if you're not whining, you're bitching," he groans, shoving my hips back down so he's against me.

Despite the ridged man being, well, ridged, his fingers still prod at my tingling skin, toying with it. Whimpers spill from me caused by the forced burning under his fingertips, making Kakuzu twitch in his pants. "Penny," his attempt at cooing comes out cold and dark, almost a dare to insult him again. "Even though you are the most useless thing in this world, I have something for you."

"You bought me something?" I ask, tilting my head into his hold now that the burning pain has gone numb.

     He chuckles as I scan over his bare face, enjoying the rare sight of it. My fingers jumps up, softly tracing the stitches on his face as the sound of his cocky laughter fills the room. "Of course not. You're not worth spending money on."

     "Oh," I hum out, letting my hands tumble to his shoulders. I know it's not in my best interest but I push the collar of his shirt out of the way, tracing the stitches wrapped over his shoulders. "Did you make me something then?"

     Again, his cackle rings out, hands tightening around my hips to shove me further up his clothed shaft. "You're not worth the effort. I stole your present off a dead guy."

     My thoughts flicker around, everywhere from old coins out of circulation to the dead guy's femur. Kakuzu's laughter only grows from the look on my face, the sound as taunting as ever. "Would you like to see your gift?" He finally asks, his voice coming out as a hiss because of he attempts to silence his chuckles.

     "Yes please," I answer, shifting my touch back to his face. It doesn't stay there long though. My fingertips trail up to Zu's loose locks, his hair down for the day since Pain didn't assign any new missions at dinner.  It still surprises me how soft Kakuzu's hair is. Though since it's wrapped up in his head coverings most of the time I guess it's not that surprising.

     He moves around under me, shifting more than needed so I tumble around his lap as he digs through his pockets. When Zu's hands are placed in front of me, they're both balled up in fists. "Pick a hand, Penny."

     The words frighten me a bit, partly because I don't know what to expect, but mainly because Kakuzu never plays fair. "Left," I whisper, getting rewarded with a smack to my cheek and another round of howls from the assassin.

     Once again the skin of my cheek stings and aches as Zu rubs it. "You should have seen your face when you realized you failed. It was not as terrible as usual. Perhaps you're not as useless as you seem."

     His hands duck behind my back, shifting around to set up for the next round of our game. My heartbeat seems loud in my ears as Kakuzu settles his hands between us again. His glowing green eyes scan my face, a sinister smile resting on his lips as he awaits my answer. "Um... right."

"Are you sure?" He mutters, his eyes tense as he looks down at me.

"Yes," I whisper, snapping my eyes shut in preparation for another failed round. Instead of Zu's big hand making contact with my cheek, a hard and chilled circle is pressed against the sore skin.

     Slowly I flutter my eyes open, being met with unamused Kakuzu. "You're a lot more entertaining when you fail," he groans, the hand not pressing the mystery item to my cheek moving to grip my right wrist.

     Zu's movements are as rough as always, forcing my wrist upward before shoving the items on my finger. My eyes shift down, looking over the smudged and chunky gold band around my middle finger. "You got me a ring?" I mutter, nervously glancing at the assassin. He's never nice, especially this nice without a 'but' added to the end.

     Kakuzu shifts, slouching in the fluffy chair. I'm moved again, rubbing against his hard-on once again as he stretches out. "I killed a rouge for their bounty and stripped the jewelry off them," Zu mutters, his hands toying with my skirt, shoving it up and down my thighs. "The pawn shop I took it to said the ring was fake gold so it's no use to me. Do not get it wet, I don't need a lecture from Pain about turning you green."

"Yes, Sir," I mutter, leaning forward to crash my lips against his. It's a dumb move, a move that'll tempt Kakuzu even more to crack his flimsy obedience to Nagato, but if I give the cold-hearted man some positive reinforcement, maybe he'll do nice things more often. "What do you want in return?" I mumble, refusing to just wait around for the other shoe to drop.

"I told you, the ring is worthless, it would have ended up in the trash," he grumbles, his eyes stuck on my lips as his legs move in circles, rubbing himself against me. "Though a few more kisses would be nice unless you're going to be a loose-lipped bitch and tell Pain."

"Oh, so it's a 'shut up' gift," I tease, trailing kisses across his knitted face. "You just gave me the ring so I wouldn't tattle on your desperate old man humping."

Kakuzu's hand shoots forward again, this time gripping my face, forcing me to look into his liquid emerald eyes. "I could break your fucking jaw or snap your neck, those would be officiant 'shut up' gifts."

My eyes shift, looking at the wall behind him as I tilt my head in his grasp. "Or we could make out."

"Ya, that's what I thought you meant," he grumbles, dropping his hold on my cheeks to shove me against his torso. "Now, stop bitching for once."

"Yes, sir."

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[fatratinatophat]

Promised you guys your Scraps and Goob headcanons since that poll won so here they are!

If someone wants to steal these, you're more than welcome to, I'd prefer getting credit if possible. If someone ends up using these for a comic or fanfic or something I'd love to see it so pls tag me or PM me I love reading my silly things :]

Scraps made Goob because she wanted a fellow Toon that would share her interests and hang out with her since the others weren’t really particularly crafty and didn’t share her interests

Goob just randomly showed up in Gardenview one day, both employees and other toons were extremely confused but the company decided to monetize on the free toon. His random appearance is also why he’s not on almost any posters

Goob was originally her height but he ended up growing a lot taller than her, Scraps is not happy about this development

His sharp teeth were also unintended, growing in randomly as he got bigger, Scraps was very confused

She originally planned to make his arms like the rest of his body, but underestimated the amount of fabric it would take to make him, so she improvised with long strips of rubber and red and blue felt to make his hands, which is why they look out of place

His arms are also filled with poly beads (pretty sure that’s the right name, it’s the beads put in things like weighted blankets and heavier plushies to weigh them down) because she ran out of stuffing too

Dog and cat coded, you can guess who’s who

Both get zoomies cause I said so

Scraps WILL sit in boxes and circles on the floor, you cannot stop her

Scraps purrs and kneads when they’re both just hanging out instinctively

Goob is tall, Scraps is short

Goob is extremely clumsy, and this causes him to get rips pretty frequently, Scraps usually sews him up, whenever a spot starts to look too strange cause of all the sewing, she will cover it with a custom patch

Scraps is made of construction paper with her hands being Pom poms, her parts have to get replaced quite frequently, Goob helps her with this

Goob is usually very calm and non confrontational however, if someone is bullying Scraps and ONLY Scraps, he gets slightly violent and will slap whoever was talking to her rudely, this hurts quite a bit because of the poly beads in his hands. Nobody dares to say anything rude to Scraps when her brother’s nearby (Except the rare Shrimpo insult when he forgets)

The two of them are basically attached at the hip, rarely ever apart for long periods of time, let alone at all

Neither of them can feel pain because they’re made of craft materials, they can feel what’s happening to them though it just doesn’t hurt

When either of them lose all their hearts in a round, they don’t die they just simply are incapable of moving anymore (Ripped off arms/legs, etc)

Phew alright I’m done, might edit this in the future if I get any better ideas to add but here they are, all the headcanons I have so far for these 2. Can you tell I think about them too much?

Below is ur promised doodles (They’re very low effort they’re not good also do me a favor and pretend I drew Scraps’ head right in the first image, ok?)

[loveyourlovelysoul]

I am just a random nobody online, but I really want to let you know that you are not alone. Please never think not even unconsciously that you're not enough or deserving to ask for or receive the help you need to receive. You totally are enough and you will receive it too. Maybe it won't be from the people you are interacting with now but don't give up on hopes and on searching for help even somewhere else, and keep asking for it too, even more than once if you think it can be necessary: at times people (even the ones around us the most) cannot really hear our call, so instead of closing off when we feel unheard we can ask again and be even more clear about our needs, maybe wording them differently and giving them (and our fears/anxieties) the right importance like even just saying "I'd really need a hug right now: please, can I get one from you?". Keep voicing your needs with no fear of being judged. Let yourself be vulnerable in front of those you feel like it's okay to. In the end someone will answer and fulfill your needs, even just partially (to start with).

Honestly I am not a doctor or a professional figure in any sense so I cannot really give you answers or proper solutions or prescriptions (these should be done on you specifically), but I hope you can at least feel a bit of comfort and understanding in these words. It's really heavy and painful to go through bad stuff, especially when they seem to keep coming and never stop: the trauma mount that these create really feels too much to bear with, especially if you feel alone fighting against it all and trying to survive to the escalade/dismantling of it; all that can really play with your nerves and cause deep emotional imbalance and stress that shows in your body too, since mind and body are heavily connected. Try to listen to your body when this happens: I think it wants you to find outlets for that huge amount of energy that anxiety and stress may be causing you to store within yourself when you spiral/overthink/overstress (it may be a reason why you may esperience a burning feeling or may even tremble or breathe heavily or even stomachaches or shoulders/back tension: your body is trying to respond to your mind's impulses and give you signs about them/help you let things out/survive).

Idk if you already know of and/or have tried any technique to distract/"ease" yourself when you start spiralling (so to gain again a little control over yourself and to process your anxiety in a different way: eg. *alternate* nose breathing, 5 things focus or walking back and forth in a room alone or in nature, talking to yourself out loud -not inner talking- or singing, yawning/drinking, moving your eyes in the 4 directions -slowly-, hugging/touching your legs/body or anything comfy for as much as you need while you hyperventilate -if you reach that point- until it feels better, journaling, yoga...), but I hope you keep taking care of you as you can, and do anything that helps you to feel less stressed and get the lowest amount of external negative/overwhelming inputs (eg. not staying much online/looking at the news, trying to get away from other's people problems at least for a little; maybe you can try doing other things that can help you relax all your senses as well or focus on another sense instead of eg. sight to "calm" it, like listening to calming music with your eyes closed).

Keep taking as many breaks as you need and go slow. Do not feel guilty for not doing much. Try to not rush anything as the need to get away from/push away something, even a feeling, "asap" will just make it more present/important and everything may get worse (at least in my personal experience it was so, I cannot tell without a doubt about you ofc). It's almost impossible to not do that at times, I know, but with patience and time, and talking with yourself as if you were a scared child reminding yourself you're still safe despite the very overwhelming feeling and finding ways to stay present like touching solid stuff around you/feeling the ground/holding something near your stomach, you'll be able to (again it worked for me, not sure for you as we're all different). I also hope you'll soon find the right people able to really help you as you deserve and that can give you the right suggestions and support. Please, do not give up! I am cheering for you<3

[fairy-verse]

I don't know if my inbox just straight up ate this ask, or if I accidentally deleted it, but luckily I'm smart and save all the questions in a word document when I answer them, so hah! I still got it.

If you want more in-depth descriptions of the different races, then please send individual asks for them.

evethepoptwist asked:

What do season fairies work for like what do they harvesting for, what do they make for their own little inventions and crafts, or how do they take care of animals by their own ways, depending on each seasons other than singing, dancing, laughter, etc. And can you tell us more about trolls, flower people, and mushroom people, and what do they do for the living? Since we barely know these guys other than talking so much about season fairies and the big folks

It is important to remember that the fairies mostly just create and work for the fun of it. Once they’ve made anything they require to survive for the seasons they do not belong to, then they’re free to just craft and create things that they love. They will harvest whatever food they can find within their respective season, and oftentimes trade with each other should they desire anything that belongs to the other seasons.

The animals care for themselves, but some fairies will take extra care in aiding them through life to ensure their survival, though it all depends on how much they love said animal. Most of the time, they will simply flutter around them and bring them as much luck as possible. Fairies possess an extra amount of luck compared to other beings, after all!

The trolls are night-dwelling creatures that hide in caves, holes, and makeshift homes that they create out of fallen trees, moss, sticks, and mud. Sunlight will turn them to stone, which is a painful process that cannot be undone. They prefer deer, moose, and rabbits as food, but have acquired a taste for humans, too. Fairies are mostly seen as tasty sweets to them. They have been known to create clothes and weapons, and they can speak to each other, though this is through grunts and growls. Most of the time, they fight amongst themselves and prefer solitude to companionship.

The flower people were born from the magic of the Luna tree on the Isle of Luna, and from said tree, they are granted immortality. They rarely leave the island, as what often happens to those that do so, is that they fall in love and will inevitably be cursed with heartache for eternity. They are the same size as fairies, and legend has it that they’re all blessed with the ability to communicate and manipulate the nature around them. No one fully knows what they do on the island, as no one has been able to cross the mist surrounding it.

The mushroom people are essentially just mushrooms with stumpy legs and arms that wander the forest floors. They will squeak, though no one yet knows if this is a form of communication or not. Sometimes, they may sit for hours and days without doing anything. They are popular pets among the fairies, especially the spring and autumn fairies.

There are also:

The Stonemen will appear as boulders, rubble, and mountains when asleep. The sleeping sisters are believed to be Stonemen who fell into a deep slumber many hundred years ago, and some think they will cause havoc once they awake again. This theory hasn’t yet been confirmed. Stonemen in general are peaceful and stationary, though when awake, they have been observed to find pleasure in watching fairies play together.

The small people/monsters look just like the big folk, only the size of fairies. They live in holed out trees and tiny houses on the forest floor. There are not that many of them on Fairy Island, as they’re not native there. They’ll live simple lives, preparing for winter, sewing clothes, creating fun projects they can play with, and sometimes even trading with fairies.

Gnomes are odd winter creatures that have their eyes hidden by pointy hats in the colour of either, red, blue, or green. They live in holes in the ground, though said homes look very cozy, often with a fireplace, a place for a kitchen, a big bed for the whole family, and such. They only come out once the snow lays thickly on the ground, and then they’ll collect sticks, frozen berries, and other trinkets they can find on the ground. Very little is known about them, though they’ll sometimes trade with the winter fairies.

Monster fairies can often be found close to Big Folk villages, and sometimes even in them. They like to settle within their attics for warmth, though there are still those who prefer to live in the forest away from them. Most can be found in Willoway Forest, though there are those who live in the Singing and Kval hills. They often steal food and clothes from the Big Folk. These fairies are the ones that look like variants of Papyrus, Toriel, Asgore, Temmie, esc…

Human fairies/Fae are in small numbers and can only be found within Ink’s domain, as he is the father of their race. They have blacked-out eyes and silvery blue wings, and they should never, under any circumstance, be trusted to make a deal with. Luckily, it’s difficult and extremely rare to ever meet with any of them.

[inkyquince]

This is a kofi commission for @letstalktea! They sweetly requested Harper being a right little creep over his hermaphrodite reader and a professional letter regarding your health turns very very unprofessional.

content warning. implied somnophilia, medical malpractise, petnames, masturbation, cum stains on the second letter. hermaphrodite reader. dubcon, harper being a nasty. sadly the cum stains on the letter is pretty hard to see.

transcript:

Dear Mx, 

I wished to send a follow up letter after our last appointment that took place last Friday. After your dizzy spell in my office, I am satisfied with the results of the tests we run on you, with your permission. 

The results were quite clear and you will find enclosed the details of the test, but most importantly the medication I wish for you to start taking. You will be required to come in as soon as convenient to pick up the prescription from my office and then the pills from the chemist. You will start noticing the effects around two weeks after taking them and hopefully you will start feeling much better, in more ways than one. 

Sadly there are some side effects that we are more than prepared to help you with. You will notice that your body is more sensitive, especially certain areas, such as your fingers, lips, ears, feet, chest and genitals. You might also notice your libido may increase, or certain areas might swell. We shall talk about it more when  you come in, but all of these side effects are well worth it. 

I will admit that on a more personal level, rather than professional, that you gave me quite the fright collapsing like that. You have lived in this town long enough to know better than to do that by now. I cannot even stress the amount of sleep I would lose if I knew you were out there, liable to faint, be so vulnerable and alone and open for the taking by any man with ill intentions towards you. 

I could barely contain myself seeing you passed out in my office… 

It is as if you are unaware of your own affect on people. I would love to pick your brain about that. Maybe take you in for an examination. Maybe even have you over at my asylum, just for a short stay of course. For your own good. 

Don’t worry, you wouldn’t have to interact with the rest of the patience. Just you and I as you recover and allow me to examine you everyday. Of course we’d make sure that you can happily keep up a routine, and your studies in between the exams. I, of course, will still be busy with the hospital and the other asylum patients, but we both know that if I could, I would spend an overwhelming amount of my time by your side. As your doctor, of course. 

Also I don’t want you to think that any of the tests would be painful, not at all! You’ll be more of a little lab mouse, and we aim not to hurt those little darlings. You’re more delicate, with those big eyes that look so innocently at me even as we both know that your innocence has been long since tarnished. As if you’re trying to make it up to me. As if saying “See, Doctor Harper? Right here for you to dirty up yourself.” Darling thing. You’re a very special patient to me and you use that, don’t you? Trusting me with your vulnerable body and leaning into my touch as I examine you. Sometimes I like to think that you’re just pretending to be asleep, and you’re encouraging me with those spread legs. Allows me to flip up that skirt or tug down those trousers to look at that cute lump in those panties. 

You’re such a rare specimen, how could I ever resist? Not when that cock is so happy to see me. You’re always so stiff the moment I play with it, as if you’re encouraging me. See, Doctor Harper, see? That cunt of yours welcomes me in, the second I start touching it, spreading those lips to admire how you glisten. Always so wet and excited, pussy greedy for anything I can give it over and over and over again. 

Best of all, you’re so relaxed when you leave. You can’t tell at all, can you? The way you’re less stiff, your gait carefree. I know for a fact you left with a smile after I played with your tits. 

You turn me into who I was a long time ago. You always do. No matter where I meet you, just a glimpse of your skin, your lips, your throat, and I’m not better than who I was. It almost makes me wish I was your schoolmate, fingering your helpless pussy in Science. Or better, I ask to take up shifts for the nurse at school and you can spend all your free time in my office, letting me play with your cock as you lay there, begging me to ease your stress. 

The moment you step into the asylum, I don’t think my composure will hold out. You’re my little mouse, scurrying through my halls, my office, my rooms. How would I ever resist you then? I should just strip you bare, but I don’t want anyone else seeing you like that, little cock flaccid between your thighs and nipples hard from the cold air. People can see you when you’re aroused, begging for something to fill you up, but not while you’re vulnerable. All exposed. That’s for me only.  If you want I can stay overnight. I don’t usually but I can only think about seeing how much I can ruin you with the few hours I have. Fill you with cum and jerk that limp cock, barely able to cum anymore. I want you crying for me, from overstimulation and love, my mouse unable to take anymore but I’ll make you. I want you wearing my underwear in our therapy sessions, I want you to want me so much you can’t even wait a full hour before climbing into my lap and kissing me. 

We’re going to need practice. It is humiliating but I want to tell you. The few kisses we’ve shared, I could barely contain myself. Your lips are so soft and it makes me nearly cum each time. Just once I pressed my cockhead against your lips and just watched my precum smear over them, how it slowly dribbled into your mouth, and the way my cum painted your face after just a few strokes? I thought it would calm me, but it just made me hungrier. A taste. 

I can’t do this anymore. I will remain my professional self, I will. Just let me fuck you on my fingers and then my cock. Let me keep you, little mouse. 

Which comes back around to our meeting later. 

We’re going to do a urine test that I wish to personally oversee, just in case you haven’t eaten anything that could interfere with the medication we wish to put you on. There will also be a physical test, also done by me. I can’t wait to see you bare again. Just to make sure you’re physically healthy for our planned regime. 

So, see you tomorrow and maybe pack a bag. 

Remember, if you lose your way, I can send someone to help you make your way over. 

Signed

Harper

Doctor Harper 

Kofi

Patreon

[youaremyhome]

Pieces of the Night: Morning Dew, Sunrays & A Bad Moon Rising

Warnings: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader, 18+ NSFW, smut, HEAVY non-con/dub-con, drug use, possessive behavior, DARK. Read at your own risk!

Notes: 4.1k words. part 3 of the series that is slowly taking over my waking thoughts.

You know you aren’t in your own bed when you wake up.

The smell of musk and cologne are dead giveaways without opening your eyes, the body heat radiating at your back another one.

Besides that, you can barely think of anything else except for the painful throbbing at your temples. You groan in the back of your throat, hand covering your eyes and pressing in to ease the pressure. You feel like absolute shit and you vow that you are never drinking tequila again. The memories of last night are blurry at best and totally blank at others.

Glancing over your shoulder, you're greeted with the back of a head, dirty blonde hair ruffled as his bare back rises and falls with light snores. Memories struggle to resurface, just flashes of Rafe kissing you, hands groping you desperate and rough.  

Delicately, you slink your body out of bed, but once you do it's a mistake because holy shit your body hurts. It’s an all-over ache, muscles shivering like you have the flu. Legs protesting as you start to move about the room, a twinge of pain zipping up between your thighs.  

You almost want to go back under the warm covers, only the thought of facing Rafe sober is not an option for you. So, you gather up your belongings hurriedly.

The top you borrowed from Andi is missing and your panties but you don’t want to run the risk of him waking up, so you pick up a shirt from the floor. You also put on a grey zip-up since it’s chilly now in Chapel Hill and you don’t know how long it’ll take you to get back home, you’re sure he won’t miss it.

You don’t look back when you slip out of the door.

🌙

“I still cannot believe you slept with him!”

“I heard he’s big! Tell me it's big!”

“I’m just happy you finally got some dick.”

You roll your eyes at that last comment made by Louise, sticking your tongue out childishly. You’re all sat around the dining table, nursing hangovers over copious amounts of coffee and junk food at 1 pm.

“Yeah, but by Rafe Cameron?” Daniella tsks. “The guy's a psycho. I saw him punch out a dude for no reason.”

“Who cares?” Andi pipes up. “It’s not like she’s dating him or anything.”

“Still,” Daniella rubs at her eyebrow as she looks over at you. “I don’t trust him.”

“Dan, it was a one-night stand. He’s probably forgotten my name by now anyways.” You smile, patting her hand to pacify her worrying.

The girls hounded you for information about last night when they discovered you in bed, making coffee in exchange for the sordid details. They giggled over your wobbly legs and dark hickeys, listening intently as you told the story of last night. The modified version. How you and Rafe started talking, dancing, doing coke together before leaving with him. You’re nervous about the reactions that would ensue from the truth.

The truth: you don’t remember last night. And the parts you did; you’d rather forget.

Forget the dizzying effect he had on you, the shameless way you had moaned for it.

You don’t remember specifics, just the sensations throughout the night. Being incredibly drunk to let off stress, loose and languid with words and movements. Then the soft head buzz from the cigarette and being so close to Rafe. The shine of a key. An entirely new sensation, one you’ve never felt before. Like…floating, in a sky of warm water. Strong arms buoying through the waves, towing you from a loud living room to a quiet bedroom with a snap of his fingers.

Hushed words shared across your skin, the heavy pleasure of him inside you, fingers molding into your form. You had the bruises to confirm those hazy memories.

Not wanting to concern them, you let them believe you were soberer than you actually were. They fussed over you too much as is, the mistakes you made were wholly your own.

“Are you going to California?” Andi’s question snaps you back into the conversation. Oh, they were talking about winter break.

“Actually, my parents rented a house somewhere called the Outer Banks?” You take a sip of your coffee, trying to remember what your mother had said. “Supposed to be beachy and lowkey, I’m sure it’d be fun.”

Later and alone, you think of Rafe, wondering what he’d say next time you see him. If you see him. It was a large school with too many parties to choose from. He was a frat boy that probably has had countless one-night stands, last night couldn’t have been any different. And you were fine with that. Rafe seemed too intense for you anyways, a dark aura about him that intimidated you when you thought too much about it.  

If you’ve managed to not have met him until now, what are the chances of seeing him again so soon?

🌙

Staring out the wide picture windows of the living room, you watch the water lap at the sand before it recedes. It’s impressive that there are so many houses right on the beaches, three to four-story homes stacked on stilts to withstand the tides. Brightly colored siding with wrap-around pouches for each level, sand-dusted stairs leading to the water, cottages on steroids with towers and windows.

It felt like you were dropped in the middle of a Nicholas Sparks book.

A few windows are open to let in the fresh breeze, smelling the salt and hearing the waves ripple. The vaulted ceilings echo the cries of seagulls, the cozy coastal design making you want to melt into the couch.

You’ve been in the Outer Banks for a few days, the view of the ocean so unbelievably close was breathtaking each time you saw it. It was quiet here, warm tranquility that had you lazing around the house. Not doing much other than spending time with your family.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with us?” Due to the open floor plan, when you look over your shoulder you can see your sister take water out of the fridge. She throws a teasing smile. “Promise to be patient.”

You snort, remembering the last time you went golfing with them. It ended with the two of you arguing to tears and abandoning the game.

“Oh, Lauren leave her alone.” Your mom tuts as she walks in, followed by your dad.

“What are you going to do today?” Dad asks, smiling gently.

“I don’t know, might walk the beach or something.”

“Well, just be careful. And put on sunscreen, and –”

You don’t really listen as mom continues to talk and gather her things, already heard the same demands being made for the past week. Regardless, you nod along to her words until they’re leaving out the front door, calling out ‘love you’s and ‘good luck'.  

Though you love your family dearly, it's nice to have some alone time without your parents hovering over you, or Lauren wanting the latest gossip.

After you change into a sweater and shorts, you head down to the garage where there’s various outdoor equipment for free use. Picking the baby blue bike with a wicker basket will be perfect for a peaceful ride around town.

It’s mild and sunny, the direct hit of the rays warming you while the breeze cools you, admiring all the houses scattered about. After a while, shops begin to pop up, the coastal style similar to the surrounding residences. Passing by cute restaurants and even a sheriff's office that you mistake for a house.  

You’re so busy taking in the scenic view that you don’t see the jagged rock that punctures your front wheel, quickly losing control and toppling over.

“Argh!”

It’s too late to catch yourself, your cheek skids across the pavement, kneeing the ground hard as the bike crashes alongside you. Groaning, you hoist yourself up to your butt, waiting for the world to stop spinning. You gingerly touch at your face, hissing and pulling it back to see bits of blood smeared on your fingertips. You mutter as you move your knee around, concluding it’ll be fine, just bruised.

You hear a rumble, and as it gets closer you lift up your head to see what car and its passengers are to witness your terrible fumble. It’s an old Volkswagen van and surprisingly, it’s pulling off the road and stopping.

Two boys hop out, beachy and blonde as they jog over to you.

“You ok?”

“Nah, bro, she just did a 360 with that thing!”

“It’s called being polite, man.”

“Polite my ass, it’s a stupid fucking question. The girl has blood on her face!”

“JJ, don’t be a dick –”

“I’m not, just stating a fact –!”

“I’m ok,” You finally say, breaking their bickering.

Both boys turn their attention back to you, the one with the bandana leaning down to help you up. Once on your feet, you brush yourself off, more scraps along your legs from the gravel.

“That shits ruined,” The one with the red baseball cap states, nodding down to the bike.

You curse as you see the busted tire, toeing at it with your shoe. Totally ruined. You sigh, mind running through what to tell your parents, the cost it would be to fix it.

“Do you need a ride back home?” Bandana suggests with an easy smile.

Maybe you shouldn’t get in a van with two unknown males but they have an open air of friendliest that has you agreeing. They introduce themselves as JJ and John B. The van is comfy and bounces with each little bump, but the ride is made fun by the way they fight like an old married couple, laughing on the way. When you turn up to your road stretched with houses, JJ lets out a low whistle.

“Should’ve known you were a kook,” He utters but gives a quick wink.

“Huh?”

“Oh, never mind, a touron.”

“He means a tourist,” John B clarifies after a smack to JJ’s chest.  

“Oh, uh, yeah, I am.” You awkwardly reply, not sure if it's good or bad slang for you.

Parking in front of the house, you all jump out. John B lifts the bike out and carries it to the inside of the garage. JJ follows leisurely, a blunt hanging from his lips as his eyes roam over you.

“There’s a kegger tonight,” He blows a thick cloud out. “You should come.”

You don’t know these boys but they seem completely harmless, so you grin. “Yeah, that sounds great. Can I bring my sister?”

“If she looks anything like you, hell yeah.” His smile is mischievous and cute, that southern accent working like a charm on you.

“See you tonight, then.”

You wave them off after getting their numbers, watching as their van lumbers off on the sandy pavement.

When Lauren and your parents get back home, your mom’s concern over your scrape clouds her mind over the fact that you totaled the bike. Once the pleasantries are over, you excitedly pull Lauren over to a hallway where your parents can’t hear.

Wigging your eyebrows, you whisper:

“You up for a party?”

🌙

The Boneyard, as the guys had called it, is a beach with big pieces of driftwood that surrounds a bonfire. There are plenty of people milling around, the light of the fire sparkling off the sunset waves. You feel like you're a freshman again, going in blind with one companion in a sea of strangers.

Your sandals get heavy with itchy sand as you walk, the bonfire giving little warmth as you tug at your sleeves over your hands. Lauren leads you to the keg on the other side of the circle where John B is sitting with a pretty blonde as he serves others beer. JJ is close by talking adamantly with another boy, a girl laughing at his ridiculous motions.

“Hey John B,” You wave cheerfully and then gesture to your right. “This is Lauren, my sister.”

“Hi,” Lauren smiles as he fills up her cup.

“Hi, Lauren The Sister! This is my girlfriend, Sarah.” John B and Sarah share a knowing smile, his finger tugging at a scrap of fabric tied to her neck.

JJ comes bounding over, breaking their sweet moment, and calling out your name. “You made it! With your hot sister too!”

Your sister bashfully smiles and there are more introductions made, Kiara wigging her fingers in greeting and Pope shaking your hands politely. Kie immediately starts chatting with you and find you both have a great love for the environment. You love her spunky attitude, going off on different tangents together. You can tell that the group is close-knit, making jabs at each other one minute and the next telling the great adventures they had over the summer. They’re a bit younger than you and you wonder how they were able to buy all of this alcohol.

As night settles over, more people crowd the beach, music flowing through the open space. Lauren has moved to a different group, saying she met them earlier at the golf course. They dress differently, with khakis and bright polos like they’re middle-aged men. You stay with John B and the others, liking their rowdy and humorous vibe, snickering with the girls when one of the guys does something stupid.

Sarah convinces you to shotgun a beer together, though you're not good at chugging and end up sputtering, liquid dripping down your chin. They laugh and hoot in comradery, lessening your embarrassment and you holler with them.

“Yo, Sarah, what's your bitch ass brother doing here?” JJ asks, his arms hooking over yours and Sarah’s shoulder.

Sarah sighs annoyed, her eyes darting around until they seem to find her target. “He knew we would be here.”

It's human nature for you to search for her brother though you don’t know what he looks like. But two things happen at once.

1. Sarah scoffs, “Rafe can never leave us alone.”

2. You see Rafe Cameron.    

Which can’t be possible, can it?

You're in the middle of a small beachside town you’ve never heard of and he’s here? There has to be a mistake, a doppelgänger of Rafe from afar and your mind is playing tricks on you.

There he is though, hair strands brushing along his eyebrows, pink lips parted and nostrils flared, board shoulders pulled back. He’s wearing a grey Henley and dark jeans and he’s walking straight for you. Foolishly, you freeze in place with wide eyes like watching a car crash. Worse, you're the one about to be hit and all you can do is stare at the unstoppable object coursing to you.

You feel JJ’s lips at your ear, breath tickling it as he asks if you’re alright, arm sliding down so his hand can squeeze your arm comfortingly. He says your name again, and a second voice echoes it.

“What are you doing here?” Rafe looks just as confused as you, but with irritation bleeding in as well. With him up close now, his eyes solely focused on you. His eyebrows slightly furrowed as his tongue rolls down on his bottom lip, eyes darting down to your arm and then back to your face.

You can’t help the heat that builds in your chest remembering that tongue on your skin, those teeth that seemed like they wanted to puncture you.

“You know this kook douche?” JJ’s astonished question has you breaking out of your trance.

“We go to the same school…” You trail off, giving Rafe a shy smile.

“Oh, I know Y/N very well.”  

The implication is clear. You're not ashamed of having a sex life but the way Rafe says it has humiliation licking at your face. You can’t unglue your eyes from Rafe’s, willing tears not to come from his leer at you. Grimacing, you cross your arms together, your body reclining back but Rafe follows you like gravity. When JJ feels you shift in discomfort, he stands tall and shoulders his way in front of you and Sarah.

“How about you go back to daddy’s house and stuff your nose with coke, hmm?”

Rafe’s gaze unlocks from yours to sneer at JJ. “At least I have the money to afford it you dirty pogue.”

JJ shoves Rafe and yelling commences as John B and Pope are hasty to join, blocking you as Kie comes to tug at you, whispering furiously what happened? Clearly, your new friends don’t like him, there’s bad blood between them, so quietly you tell the girls, “We slept together. Once.”

More frenzied questions are thrown your way but you’re too overwhelmed to answer. With the shock of seeing Rafe fading away, you frown at the animosity he has for them. You had assumed when John B and JJ talked about it, that it was a hometown rivalry, the old tale of rich versus poor. But with the way Rafe is priming for a fight, it appears to run deeper than that, something you wouldn't be able to understand as an outsider.

Doesn’t make it any less stupid.

Rafe is completely engaged now with JJ and John B now, Pope holding Kie and Sarah back as they’re all shouting. Racking a hand through your hair agitated, you turn and walk away, listening to the words of kook and pogue repeat over themselves.

You walk down to the shore, cold water seeping into your sandals. Arms crossed tightly to your chest, your mind whirls with the pure odds of vacationing in Rafe Cameron’s hometown. The weird coincidence of him being here tonight. This is not the same Rafe you met on Halloween night or the week before, sure he wasn’t the friendliest but he seemed to listen and you liked that. This was the Rafe Daniella warned you about. Your thoughts block out the shouting, so perhaps that’s why you don’t respond to it when it gets closer.    

“Hey! Hey!”

Fingers wrap around your upper arm, spinning you on the spot and coming face to face with an out-of-breath Rafe.

“Where in the hell are you goin’?” Rafe grounds out through clenched teeth.

“What and stay for that pissing contest?” You ask sarcastically. Pulling your arm down to try and dislodge his grip. Instead, he jerks you closer. “Let go of me.”

“I – what happened to your face?” The switch from anger to worry is unsettling, lowered eyebrows rising up on his forehead. His hand comes up to brush his fingers at your cheek, a ghost of a touch. You push his hand away, glaring up at him.

“A bike.”

He sighs, hard. “Listen, you need to stay away from them. They’re pogues, they –”

“I don’t care! They’re people, Rafe. They’re nice. And you can’t tell me what to do.”

“So, so – what? You're just gonna sneak away like you did that morning?”

For once, a bubble of guilt pops in your stomach for leaving him like that, with no phone number or anything. You give up on moving your arm, it's starting to hurt. Slumping your shoulders, you divert your gaze to the ground.

“It was one night Rafe. We were both drunk and…”

“I wasn’t.”

“And high, so, like –” You stop, scrunching your eyes closed in bewilderment with a shake. “What?” Shooting your eyes back to him, the careless demeanor you find disturbs you.

“I wasn’t drunk. Or high.”

It takes you a slow moment to comprehend his words. You sputter out air, a panic-filled laugh pushing its way out.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No…” He says deliberately, smile creeping up. “…But I’d sure like to fuck you again.”

You ignore that. Letting it go through one ear and out the other. Your mind is too busy running through your database of facts about that night.

You were drunk. Rafe got you high. Took advantage of you. But why then –

“Why are you telling me this?” You breathlessly ask.

“You think your new friends would like you if they knew what a real kook you are?” He hooks a thumb back to indicate to the others, sitting along the driftwood.

You can see JJ waving his hands around, punching at the air with animated faces. John B and Pope are playing along, laughter resonates with the wash of the waves. They’re good people, you knew it within hours of meeting them. You want them to like you, to accept you as one of them, but you’re only here for vacation.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m leaving after New Years and never coming back.”

Especially since you're here, you think it's in your best interest not to vocalize that.

Rafe nods understandingly, tongue in his cheek as he contemplates you. With his grip squeezing more, he pulls out his phone, the artificial light casting a blue tint on his pale skin. Rafe’s smile is mean when he turns the screen to you.  

“Then you won’t mind if I show them this?”

The world standstills as you look back at yourself. Except you’re not yourself.

The bright flash from the camera illuminates a warm radiance across your naked skin that’s laid across black sheets. Hair swirled around you like a dark halo, face turned to the side, eyes closed with arms up over your head, and from the loose curl of your fingers, you know you’re asleep. Blackness borders the lines of your body like it's edging to engulf you whole but your skin beams its way through. The angle is above you and tilted back an inch; hickeys on display, nipples softened and legs parted open for a peek between your thighs. Most disturbingly, large amounts of white splotches stain across your chest down to your thighs, though you assume it doesn’t go further because the picture is cut off at your knees.

“Really do look like an angel with all that white on you.”

You don’t think to do it. The palm of your hand just happens to smack him. The sting doesn’t bother you, only fuels your hurtful indignation and you bare your teeth at him. A part of you happy as Rafe works his jaw back and forth, his skin reddening, eyes as dark as the night filled ocean.

“Delete that right now! Right now, Rafe!” You push at his chest, once, twice. “I cannot believe you took that picture you fucking perv –”  

“I rather save it as my lock screen.” Rafe spits out. “Show your pogue friends. Think they’ll still like you if I do? Huh?”

Rafe shakes your body, your neck whiplashing from the power behind his hands. Your hair is a mess, strands stick to your face as you breathe out harshly. You let your head rest back as Rafe looms over you, eyes locked in a death stare.  

You don’t know what he wants from this. Just the simple pleasure of being a dick? Of thinking he can blackmail you with one picture? It doesn’t make sense, but right now, all you care about is getting away from him.

“They know you better than I do.” You say carefully, heart pounding at your sternum. “I say one word to them and they’ll be on my side.” It’s your turn to smile mean. “In fact…JJ! Pope! John B!”

Crying out their names in anguish, you renew your struggles against Rafe. You're on the outskirts of the party, the open air carrying your voice like wind. Their turns head and in a flash, they’re up and running towards you. Too shocked from your cry for help, Rafe’s hand loosens and that’s all you need. Quickly you dart around him, tears in your eyes as you run to them, feet slipping through the sand, making you stumble a few times.

JJ and Sarah lead the pack, JJ taking the brunt of your force from running straight into him. Your body wouldn’t stop running until it knew you were clear from danger. Leaning into JJ’s side, his arms wrap around you softly as everyone’s voices jumble in alarm, John B and Kie yelling insults at Rafe to go away.  

“He – he’s threatening to show you a picture of me…” Your voice is shaky and high, unable to look at them and crushing your face into JJ’s shirt. More tears fall now that you’re away from Rafe, shivering from the adrenaline pumping through you. You don’t elaborate, though you don’t think you have to as multiple voices soothe you, hands rubbing at your hair, your back.  

Laying your cheek on JJ’s bicep, your face turned away from the protective circle they’ve created, you watch as Rafe boils in rage from afar, knowing he’s outnumbered. Arms bulging with clenched fists, mouth a thin line, body vibrating with anger. Your eyes meet. With tears running down your face, you smile. Stealthily, you raise your arm and flick him off.

[shmowder]

It was such a treat to read your Yulia hcs!! Earlier you'd made a post wondering what your writing feels like to others. Sometimes I'd liken it to bubble gum - like a big gumball I just want to bite into and chew for a long time (don't worry, it's a magical gumball that doesn't lose its flavor).

The Yulia hcs were like a pastry with powdered sugar and cream (no doubt this is influenced by you mentioning the pastry at the beginning) - something delicate. Like snow falling in a snow globe and like a warm hug at the same time. Lovely ♡ I appreciate that you always take care to mention her leg as well.

I love both kinds of food!!!!! Thank you for taking the time to write my requests :) <3

-

Ooh, ships! I haven't ventured very far into any Patho ships tbh! I know the big one is Daniil x Artemy ofc. I'm really hoping that the Marble Nest and P1 will help me connect with Daniil more. And I do enjoy Artemy x Aglaya.

What I meant was more along the lines of what personality traits in a reader would make them a good match for those characters? Uhh I cannot phrase this to save my life. In your Victor x reader fluff, you said that a stubborn confident reader would do well with him, so something like that!

But you basically answered my question anyway ^^ "Someone who can stand her enough to live together" for Yulia lmfao. Your description of Peter and Yulia is killing me. This too is #girlrotting.

I'm interested to see how Yulia x Eva plays out in P1 or if it's just mentioned in passing. Somebody on reddit described Eva as "a dreamer without a dream" - I barely know her but that seems to match up with what you're saying and I LOVE that phrase.

I see both of your Bad Grief visions and I've actually seen some vaguely shippy Victor x Grief art before.

I'm not too invested in any ships. If you want to know something terrible... I've briefly entertained the idea of Big Vlad x Artemy........ if he didn't always call Artemy "my boy" and if other characters weren't frequently accusing Artemy of being like, owned by him or whatever, then I wouldn't be like this..... it's the guard dog trope. Obviously this would have to be in an alternate universe where Artemy's dialogue choices didn't strongly imply he's not on board 😆 Well, there's my cursed opinion of the day.

🐿️ anon

Oh! I'm sorry, i must have misunderstood your request then.

Here is what I think the "ideal" Reader for each character would be:

Katerina Saburova

Someone who would never lose faith in her no matter how dire her state becomes. To see her value hidden beneath the role she failed to play, the responsibility she failed to fullfill and the Misteress she couldn't amount to.

To understand her pain, take it from her shoulder and carry it before her collarbones crack. Wipe her tears and tell her it will be okay, allow her the small relief of medicine and never judge her because her cruel harsh mind already does that.

She knows she is a mess, she knows her addiction to morphine is wrong. Moments of lucidity sneak up on her from time to time, the guilt suffocating and the shame like razors dragging down her throat.

She is aware of what the town people whisper behind her back, of her ruined reputation. Don't become one of them too, please, more than anything she needs a friend right now.

Someone to love her unconditionally, but also someone to take the difficult steps her in stead. To hold her and comfort her as withdrawal set her nerves on fire and her nails dig into her skin.

To make her forget about this damned town or her barren womb, grant her a moment of genuine peace, a facade of normalcy. Take her outside, let her remember the smell of fresh air, pluck stray dandelions to gently tuck between her hairstrands, keep her warm in your arms as the chilly autumn winds breeze by.

Remind her how life was before all of this madness, who she was. Katerina can't even recall her own hobbies or interests, she is lost and only she can save herself.

So at least be there for her, show her that there is more to life. Be gentle, never cruel. Be patient and never judgmental. Be loving and never afraid.

-

Yulia Lyuricheva

As pathetic as it might sound, Yulia just wants one soul who will stand her enough to spend time together, to live in the same house and share bread and a bed.

She is often quiet around other people, she learned to be. She had to. Being too much was her curse for this lifetime, apparently. Ever since she was young, she quickly understood how saying the wrong things would tremble down the fragile foundation every relationship is built on.

Yulia likes most people, believe it or not. How can she not when everyone is so interesting and unique? Every single person is the accumulative of all the choices and paths they picked during their lifetime. A coin toss of fate during every decision, red strings weaving into a whole person, scouplting their personality out of clay from their history and experiences.

Most humans are interesting and rather adorable. She enjoys observing them, making notes, and connecting the dots. Appreciating the work of art, mathematics' creation.

Each of them like naive children in a playground, pretending to know what they're doing as they wear their adult clothes and go to their adult jobs. Pretending there is some inherent meaning in it all, as if life isn't one big joke, and a rather tactless one at that.

Yulia couldn't fool herself like them. She couldn't play make-believe. She ran by facts and hard evidence, numbers never lied and the grim reality was that humanity's whole existence is just one big coincidence. A blep in the universe, a speck of dust amidst the galaxies and stars.

People didn't like being reminded of those facts, that every birthday is simply one inch deeper into the grave.

Damn her cursed tongue and restless mind.

Therefore she watered herself down, remained content with being an observer. Never causing harm or annoying others, mild mannered and keeping to herself. Isolating, suffocating, forced to be the only victim subjected to the dark corners of her mind.

When the abyss started to whisper to her back, Yulia turned to smoking.

She wants someone who would want her, all of her. The good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. Someone to admire her brilliant mind while remaining strong in the face of her occasion episodes of apathy. Someone who will understand or at least sympathise why she hasn't cleaned her room in weeks, why old coffee mugs are rotting on the table, why she barely opens the windows in her home.

Why she simply cannot bother to exist on some days, dissociating as she blankly stares out the window, or at a wall or an equation drawn on the chalk board.

Why the clocks in her residence require frequent repairs, courtesy to being smashed against the wall in a swift motion when their ticking starts making her ears bleed.

Could someone even stand her when she cannot stand her own self on most days? Could someone love her as she is? Or is she really irredeemable, cursed since birth.

She may seem smart, but she is prone to rather stupid impulsive decisions from time to time. Indulging life risking experiments out of curiosity because she might as well go down in her own style rather than wait for time ungratefully reap her soul.

Someone who will get her out of bed on the days where the idea of chewing food seems too exhausting.

Yulia doesn't want someone who will gift her meaning and a purpose on a silver plate, rather she'd like for you to kindly hold the candle and shine the light so she may find her way herself. It's been years, and she's gotten used to living in the dark.

Be sympathetic but not overindulgent. Be forgiving and not vindictive. Be her shoulder to lean on but still let her walk on her own two legs. Steady her steps but do not lead her or attempt to diverge her path.

Peter Stamatin

He might make it seem like he needs a muse, that a shiny new thing is what will get him out of this rut.

But it won't, all the nymphs of the forest will look dull after one night, all the gems will lose its shine after one touch.

What he needs, is to wake up.

To stop mourning things immediately after their birth, to not borrow grief from tomorrow and keep reliving it each day.

What he needs is the mundane, the human animal basic requirements. To remember he is a mammal deep down, he isn't a concept nor an abstract collection of ideas, he isn't a ghost watching people pass by, he is flesh and blood.

Someone who will bring him back down from his journey up in the clouds, who will steal him back from the stars, from all the gaint things bigger than life itself that he got accustomed to befriending and haveing one sided conversations with.

He cuts his own thoughts before he finishes them because he lost interest, he stops mid sentences because he grew bored of the words coming out of his own mouth.

He will complain and throw tantrums, but you must prevail his trails and stand your ground. He will dramatise things and get mad, he will cry and break down, he will act as if you're plucking his heart out of his chest and crushing it in your hand.

You must prevail.

Remind him that he will survive. Sure, he can get mad, but he must stay alive. Peter needs an intervention, someone brave enough to risk upsetting the crowned prince of humanity's best of the best and tell him it's bedtime.

To drag him away from the blank canvas he has been staring at for hours, to hold him accountable for skipping meals or rotting in bed for weeks without going outside.

Someone to reteach him the basic maintenances task of being alive, the ones he neglected and gradually forgot as he couldn't bother to remember he too own a human body that requires care. That his brain is an organ that requires fuel and breaks as much as it is visions-plagued maze.

Take him with you to bathe, gently lather shampoo in his hair as he stiffly sits in the lukewarm water while watching the yellow rubber duck float by. Guide his fingers when it comes time to apply conditioner and let him remember how the texture of his own hair feels like, watch him rediscover how nice it is to let water wash his worries away.

Peter needs the simple pleasures in life, his soul requires a soft served ice cream cone, a cheap candy from a corner store, a hummed melody you made up while hanging your clothes to dry.

The mundane, the ugly, the eggs with burnt edges. Food that is merely food and nothing else, drinks that are simply drinks rather than magical twyrine mixtures that let him hear whispers he will never be able to decipher or understand.

Be firm but never controlling. Be a teacher but never condescending. Be a human, most of all, a real human being to show him that he is too.

-

Bad Grief

Grief can't decide if he wants someone to see the good in him or if that would cause more harm than good. He has a role to play and he's very good at it.

It is a necessary evil. The gangs will exist with or without him, it's better that he leads them and makes sure they never cross the line than someone else who might not be trusted.

A cause surprisingly more noble than anyone would ever expect of him. This life has fallen directly into his hands, every road led him down his path as if it was custom made for his measurements alone. It was always suspicious, how well things fell into place, how convenient fate was at times.

Does he need someone to see the good in him? peak behind the curtains and view him at his most barest forms? Not really. He is content with playing this role for eternity, a glorified shopkeeper, he can keep the jig up for many years to come.

But is it what he wants? is that what he really wants from life? to surrender to fate and simply take it laying down? He pushes these swarming thoughts away, as if they won't return at dawn.

You didn't fear him, either someone with a death wish, a brave fool or an apathetic idiot.

But he felt weird under your gaze, as if your eyes could see through him, through the facade. You never reacted to his empty threats or intimidation attempts, neither did you acknowledge the fact he is a criminal much. You weren't here to challenge him or take his throne, neither were you here for a favour or to obtain something illegal.

...you were merely here for him? To what... chat?

He did think you were a fool for a while, he won't lie. ulterior motives or not, you were walking into a den of criminals each morning just to what? Talk to him about the weather and how cold autumn is?

You weren't part of the script, clearly an unfated encounter that you deliberately went out of your way to have with him each day.

Until one day, he noticed the lack of any ticking sounds as you approched him. Your usual pocket clock seemed still in place from the chain dangling from your pocket, which could only mean one thing.

"Hand it over dollface."

And you did, as if you anticipated this request.

He fixed it for you, fingers moving by sheer muscle memory alone, a skill he thought he had long forgotten.

Bad Grief wants someone who isn't afraid to be free, who comprehends the role he has to play, who doesn't condemn things they do not understand.

Someone who isn't trying to save him or make him change from this life of crime, but also someone who is brave enough to walk by his side on the streets, to hold his hand in public, to not bend to the whims of the public's opinion.

The air is really chilly, would you like his jacket? ....don't ever call him a gentleman again, he just doesn't want you to freeze to death, that's all.

Grief would love someone who walks their own path, someone who will make the first step for him because deep down he is frozen by fear, too cautious for his own good. Too aware of what's at risk, of what could happen.

Of how much he could endanger you just by knowing your name, just by people seeing you at his side. You do realise what you're sacrificing? the opportunities which will never be presented to you just because you decided to be with someone like him? It's your funeral.

But he really is touched, that someone will see him worth all of that. Bad Grief had to ensure he remains useful to people all his life, that the townfolks need him more than they hate, that he is a necessary foundation that could never be uprooted without the entire structure collapsing.

Even the authorities know that, the Saburov understand his usefulness in keeping the criminal structure plates at bay, how he sets the rules and decides where to draw the line. A mutual beneficial relationship built of begrudging respect and fear.

He needs you to understand that he must. He digged his own grave, he was lead here on a leash by life. It was this or death. Don't look at him with distant, don't let fear cloud your judgements.

Be brave, never afraid. Be direct and always sincere. Be smart and clever but never cautious or cowardly. Be moral but never vendective.

-

Most important of all, the ideal reader would be different to each character based on what they value most. Someone like Aglaya values personal freedom above all and would fall for an independent Reader with their own convictions rather than blindly follow the herd. Someone authentic and brave.

While someone like Alexander Saburov would rather be that person for the reader. Preferring that you're more dependent on him and believe in his notions and principles, having faith in his justice and righteousness. To rely on him to tell you what's right and what's wrong. It's important to only indulge within limit and never stray too far from the path of what's wrong and right.

On the other extreme, Andrey also values freedom but it is his own freedom he cares most about. Your freedom shouldn't challenge his too much nor ask him to change his ways, if you love him then you must love him for who he is because he doesn't plan on changing for anyone. Morals are treated as another cage that suppresses his freedom rather than human decency.

-

My own writing tastes like a gumball to you- I know you meant it as a good thing but ouch. Does my writing really seem childish and overwhelmingly sugary? Ah-

It's not a bad thing, it's just not what I was aiming for either. At least you seem to enjoy it so yeah. I hoped my style would seem more... poetic to you? Sincere?

I'm grateful regardless. I liked the pastry comparison in Yulia's story, however. It fits the vibe I was aiming for.

I hope your day is amazing, do please take care of yourself.

[giggly-squiggily]

Since I’m absolutely losing my mind simping for him, here’s some ler Kurama HCS!

Ler Kurama who chuckles sweetly as he tickles someone.

Ler Kurama who says “now, now, no trying to hide from me. You’re quite cute when you’re laughing like this.” When his lee hides their face.

Ler Kurama who is so evil with anticipation. He’ll wiggle his fingers above their tickle spots until they’re curling in on themselves and whining for it to either A) stop or B) start already

Ler Kurama who likes to tickle Yusuke as a stress reliever (and let’s be real, Yusuke doesn’t much mind it either)

Ler Kurama who inadvertently follows the “ler goes for their own death spot first” rule and always goes for Yusuke’s legs when he starts.

Ler Kurama who somehow cannot be caught and having the tables turned on him (except for Hiei bc they’re about equal in strength)

Ler Kurama who ALWAYS wins tickle “fights”

Ler Kurama who sneaks a vine to wiggle against Kuwabara and Yusuke’s sides when they’re bickering in public. “Not now, you two. Remember where we are.”

Ler Kurama who is somehow the biggest instigator of chaos amongst the four of them??? If the two humans even put so much as a toe out of line, he looks at Hiei and the two nod in complete understanding.

Ler Kurama whose teases are so freaking evil even though he’s got that serious tone. “Aww, you’re quite amusing. Now, what happens if I were to try here? Or here? Oh, dear. That one seemed to really start you up. Perhaps I’ll stay here for a minute.” (EVIL)

Ler Kurama who has a LOOK that tells Yusuke and Kuwabara that he’s not goofing around and he will not hesitate to wreck them right there.

Ler Kurama who constantly checks in on his lees to make sure they’re comfortable and not in pain. He stops as soon as they’re ready, and never wants to push them too far.

Ler Kurama who gets caught up in the fascination of tickling the boys more often than not. “The human body is so intriguing.”

Ler Kurama who tenses when Hiei places his hands on his thighs with a menacing grin. “It sure is, Suichi. Why don’t we discover if the great Kurama shares the same weakness as these two hooligans.”

Ler Kurama who finally gets paid his due…

JWJSJWJSJKWKSKSKSMS AHHHHHH 😍😍😍😍😍😍 DUCKY THESE ARE MAGNIFICENT!!! I personally headcanon Kurama to be such a ler, so these are MAJESTIC!!! 🥰🥰🥰 Thank you for sharing!

Because you’ve gifted me such a delightful set of Ler headcanons, and because you’ve ended on such a great transition; allow me to provide some Lee!Kurama in return…

Lee!Kurama who’s laugh is so soft and prince like and will be damned if that changes.

Lee!Kurama who breaks near instantly the second someone touches his knees/the terrible spot beneath his thighs.

Lee!Kurama who covers his face when laughing and struggles to remain composed cause it tickles like crazy and he doesn’t wanna kick anyone in the face ajznnans

Lee!Kurama who also has a ticklish neck- soon discovered by Yusuke who wanted to see where he hid his rose in a hair.

Lee!Kurama who can tease like nobody’s business but if you call him a “cute little fox” he gets beyond flustered, cheeks red and unable to make eye contact (Don’t even get me STARTED if you sing-tease at him)

Lee!Kurama who was the untouchable tickle monster until Hiei finally figured out what tickling was (I headcanon he isn’t all that familiar with it until he spends a good amount of time with the boys) or Yusuke and Kuwabara teamed up. Now he’s got somewhat of a challenge to deal with.

Lee!Kurama who’s ears are so sensitive he can’t stand someone blowing air against them (*cough*Hiei*cough* *cough*Yusuke*cough*) If you puff even slightly he’ll squeak and get all giggly and just- Ahh!

Lee!Kurama who’s more sensitive to firmer tickles along his thighs and legs. Hiei once squeezed the ever loving hell out of his knee to try and make him wince only to earn a series of snickery laughs and yelps.

Lee!Kurama who loves tickles cause he doesn’t get them all that often and it feels nice cause it’s a change up from the daily grind of bruises and wounds ala battles or whatever. He loves how close they make him feel to whomever he’s tickling or being tickled by.

Those are the ones off the top of my head wjsjjwjsns but YEE KURAMA AHHHH! 😍😍😍😍😍